She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. 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. And with his daughter?’ ‘He wrote to Jarvis from an inn in France, saying that he had married Mademoiselle Valade, and that his baby naturally belonged with her father. They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway.
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