But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. “What has she told you?” “Everything. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay.
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