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 himself that it was he who had transformed and purified her, that it was he who had returned her to the world so peaceful and so strong,—and he proudly raised his head.

The vanguard of picnickers had already entered under the vault of the woods, and they were breathing more at ease.

Lucy, clinging to the aunt, walked close behind her. The judge’s wife was entertaining her. She was a Prague lady whose husband’s fate had brought her to this nest. She was longing to return, and she was talking of her Prague acquaintances and of familiar places. She spoke rapidly and in abrupt sentences. The aunt barely had a chance to get in a word or a short sentence. Lucy was silent. She was fatigued, partly from the heat, partly from the occurrences of the last few days. The feelers of the whole local ant hill had touched her all over,—Oh, those terrible moments! She felt like a thief hiding with his booty, while the steps