He waited the pleasure of Monsieur. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. Melusine whirled. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. He heard me; but he never came in to ask what was the matter.
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