I do swear. The night was now profoundly dark. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. Leonardo had told her it would happen, and warned her to make use of it. I would not think so of you, Marthe. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible. Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree.
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