"Kidnapped, and sent to France by one uncle, it was my lot to fall into the hands of another,—my father's own brother, the Marshal Gaucher de Chatillon; to whom, and to the Cardinal Dubois, I owed all my good fortune. There was just a minute’s hesitation before they gave her a room. You're a friend of the young man?" "If you mean did I know him before he became ill, no. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. In that sense, my strategy worked. If he keeps his word, I'll keep mine.
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