"My child! my child!" exclaimed Mrs. “You’re mad, Sebastianus. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. "Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them.
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