"He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. Melusine grasped the hilt of the sword she had been carefully holding, and came out into the light. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. I've my own reasons for disliking this job.
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