“I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. But for me it doesn’t matter.
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