“I’ve got it. As he anticipated, he was here comparatively screened from the fury of the wind; and when he gazed upon the roaring fall beneath him, visible through the darkness in a glistening sheet of foam, his heart overflowed with gratitude for his providential deliverance. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament.
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