I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled. That capitaine has arranged it all. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind.
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