“Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. “Thank God,” he exclaimed. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course.
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