In Paris, in July, a raging mob had stormed the Bastille, provoking circumspect aristocrats to uproot themselves and take refuge abroad. "I have hurt you because I would not trust you. “How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, do not go about playing the Don Quixote like this. "Hush!" said she, in a low, but agitated voice; "would you earn this purse?" "I've no objection," replied Blueskin, in a tone intended to be gentle, but which sounded like the murmuring whine of a playful bear. ’ ‘You mean the one that you refused to feed?’ demanded Gerald, seizing this promising cue and adopting a mournful note. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned.
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