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Entering the workshop, he found the blacksmith occupied in heating the tire of a cart wheel. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. The intense darkness added to the terror of the storm. Spit of your mother. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. Wasting no time, he crossed straight to the shutters and opened them.
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