A moment afterwards, the street was illumined by a blaze of torchlight, and a tumultuous uproar, mixed with the clashing of weapons, and the braying of horns, announced the arrival of the first detachment of Minters. “Listen,” she said. While this was taking place, another and more serious interruption occurred. Burn your palette and your easel. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered.
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