He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. “How dare you? You are trying to kidnap my babies!” Clotilde demanded. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. "Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort.
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