One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. “I had lunch very late to-day, and I did not get home in time for dinner. The bodies had been found in the river without their heads, which were busy decomposing in a ravine. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused.
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