"Kidnapped, and sent to France by one uncle, it was my lot to fall into the hands of another,—my father's own brother, the Marshal Gaucher de Chatillon; to whom, and to the Cardinal Dubois, I owed all my good fortune. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors.
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