But after that it was easy. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. ‘Merci, dieu. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. A jolly night we made of it, as you may suppose; for four such monarchs don't often come together.
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