You came to me, you wished me to speak to Anna. I hope we may never find her again. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. There he sat as before, with the heavy fetters on his limbs, and beside him sat his three companions, who had since expiated their offences on the gibbet. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful.
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