Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. “I wonder why I am always hungry nowadays. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. “Dear me!” he said.
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