It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. ’ ‘Forgive me, but if that is the case, I don’t quite see why you should run away. "Put it under my pillow," he said. That is why you came here, isn’t it?’ ‘Alors, now we know who is the spy, Monsieur Gérard. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. ‘How fascinating. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. You’ll end up dead, that’s what.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ2LjE3Ni44MSAtIDE5LTA1LTIwMjQgMTA6Mzk6NTQgLSAxMDM3MTczNTY1
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