"You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. ’ Melusine glared.
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