’ The idiocy of it all irritated Melusine. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. “Bring any new songs you may have.
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