Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. But it was now too late to turn back, and, nerving himself for the shock he expected to encounter, he ventured after his conductor. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. She saw his lips yell, “Stop.
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