The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. Perhaps in the beginning the women made fools of themselves over him.
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