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Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room. He kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Jacques, are you dead? Jacques, do you hear me?’ Melusine put her cheek to his lips, and felt the faint warmth of his breath. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact.
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