She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. Presently. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. She never knew what became of her farmer after that. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green. "He just asked for his coat, which he wanted under his pillow. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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