She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. By-the-bye,” he added, in a suddenly altered tone, “I hope, I trust—that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one here?” “I—oh no!” Anna said, a little faintly. It is easy enough to sing these little chansons in an original way—it requires a very different sort of ability to succeed on the stage.
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