" "This is folly," cried Jack, controlling himself by a powerful effort. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. Advancing towards them, sword in hand, Jonathan so terrified the hinds by his fierce looks and determined manner, that, after a slight show of resistance, they took to their heels, leaving him master of the field.
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