Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation.
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