They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. Too many. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country.
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