The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. Accordingly, he began to retrace his steps, and pursuing the course he had recently taken, scaling the two towers, and passing along the wall of the prison, he descended by means of the door upon the Lower Leads. "I yield to fate.
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