The buboes broke and God took Lucia's mother. It was not a difficult affair. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. ’ Melusine heard a note of triumph in his voice and turned, a questioning look in her face. .
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