Fear nothing. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. That is why I called myself Anna.
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