She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. The heavy weapon thundered against the door; and it speedily yielded to their efforts.
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