Book the Third - The Track of a Storm
13. XIII. Fifty-two
(continued)
"Fifty-two."
"I said so! A brave number! My fellow-citizen here would have it
forty-two; ten more heads are worth having. The Guillotine goes
handsomely. I love it. Hi forward. Whoop!"
The night comes on dark. He moves more; he is beginning to revive,
and to speak intelligibly; he thinks they are still together; he asks
him, by his name, what he has in his hand. O pity us, kind Heaven,
and help us! Look out, look out, and see if we are pursued.
The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and
the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit
of us; but, so far, we are pursued by nothing else.
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