’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ burst from mademoiselle as she jumped up. “What do you think you are doing?” He asked. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil.
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