His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. His figure was uncommonly slim even for his age, which could not be more than thirteen; and the looseness of his garb made him appear thinner than he was in reality. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. The area in front of the jail was completely filled.
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