Rowland's purposes were, however, defeated in a manner as unexpected as appalling. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. For many of them it will smirch us forever.
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