CHAPTER XXVI. We did not know where to send … in case you died. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad.
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