At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. Melusine did not try to fight her captor, for that would only make him angry. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done.
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