"I'll gibbet the rascal. From then until four in the afternoon there was nothing to do—the whole island went to sleep. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. Nevertheless, one day Sebastian looked at her and said, “Your smile today is delightful, my Lucia.
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