“Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. ‘Tell me, my boy. Wood. . As soon as the latter beheld him, she uttered a loud scream, and fainted. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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