She closed her eyes as if asleep, her hands folded neatly on her abdomen. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. He awoke, strangely content. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes.
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