Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. ‘Sapristi,’ he shouted angrily. ‘Jacques, are you dead? Jacques, do you hear me?’ Melusine put her cheek to his lips, and felt the faint warmth of his breath. I must have been very wound up. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face.
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