"It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. ‘You will release me at once, imbecile. " "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild.
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