There were shadows under his eyes. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand.
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