"He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her.
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