But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. “Broken-in people! I suppose the world is just all egotistical children and broken-in people. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris.
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