Leaving the panel wide, Melusine dashed to the library door and flung it open, racing into the hall. "By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. Tombs were desecrated, beautiful statues toppled, and the colorful shops that she had been enchanted by along the canal had been closed or burned.
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