‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. “Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs.
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