She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. . " Quitting the night-cellar, the trio soon arrived at the riverside.
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