He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. “Well——” She stopped short. “Julian, I don’t know how to put this. That glove is still preserved. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. ‘Why did he make me French, Marthe? Why did he give me this name of Melusine, and say I am born of Suzanne Valade?’ Martha looked at her, but her lips remained firmly closed. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. “If I were to marry now,” she said, “it would be with a sense of humiliation.
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