CHAPTER XXVII. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. ’ You used to declare that you hated the name. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. ” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. I will be as silent as the grave.
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