" So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. I don’t know. Sheppard superior to her station. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound.
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