Taking off his stockings, he then drew up the basils as far as he was able, and tied the fragments of the broken chain to his legs, to prevent them from clanking, and impeding his future exertions. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. He was, however, instantly beaten back; and the fury of the mob was so great that it was with difficulty he could effect a retreat. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. Nigel, you have not forgotten!” “No,” he said, with a little bitter smile. He knew she had been weeping. It was as though he were personally aggrieved.
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