‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. Because for the punishments je m’en moque. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them.
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