The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. ‘Do not beg my pardon. After the first courses however she scarcely noticed him. ’ He sighed, spread his hands quite in her own manner, and fluttered his lashes. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head.
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