Prison was beastly. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. "Ja," replied the skipper.
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