He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. Immortal! You were in the beginning, and all the men in the world who have known what love is have worshipped at your feet.
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