The girl was in the game now, and that narrowed the circle. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. You must think it over.
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