Her face expressed nothing. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. ‘But it is not on the horse at all, Jacques. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. Don't ask any more questions.
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