But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. . " "Then this is not my child?" exclaimed she, with increased astonishment. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female.
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