A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. I had to go at a moment’s notice. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down.
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