"Devil!" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, "how many years will you give my son before you execute your terrible threat?" "NINE!" answered Jonathan sternly. What he told the vicomte I was not privileged to learn. It is the only way. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips.
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