Immeasurable disgust possessed her. ‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. 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. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing.
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