She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place.
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