At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. She could not stir hand or foot. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. " "I'll ring for one," replied Kneebone, rising accordingly; "but I fear my servants are gone to bed. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence.
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