He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU5LjE0NS4xMjUgLSAyMy0wNy0yMDI0IDAxOjI4OjAwIC0gMTMyNjkxNzU5NQ==
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