” Anna stood up. "I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is, I scarcely know. ’ ‘He does not call himself my father, for he calls himself nothing at all,’ Melusine told him, her tone violent with fury. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again.
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