The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. “One can’t tell. "Kidnapped, and sent to France by one uncle, it was my lot to fall into the hands of another,—my father's own brother, the Marshal Gaucher de Chatillon; to whom, and to the Cardinal Dubois, I owed all my good fortune. Jonathan's wicked threat is fulfilled at last. Think of those days in Paris.
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