The report of his detention caused an immense sensation. ‘Not in the open street. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again.
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