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spoke to me of it with deep emotion.
We separated. We did not meet again.
I wandered about the streets. Where should I sleep? That was the question.
I thought that No. 19, Rue Richelieu would probably be as much watched as
No. 15. But the night was cold, and I decided at all hazards to re-enter
this refuge, although perhaps a hazardous one. I was right to trust myself
to it. I supped on a morsel of bread, and I passed a very good night. The
next morning at daybreak on waking I thought of the duties which awaited
me. I thought that I was abut to go out, and that I should probably not
come back to the room; I took a little bread which remained, and I
crumbled it on the window-sill for the birds.
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