"N'ETES VOUS PAS DU PARADIS?"
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his lofty head for the tearful benediction of the Mother Superior; and quitted the innocent comnunity of religious women, in whose convent he had found asylum; the Angelus chiming him a soft and solemn farewell, as, in the late leafless autumn, while the black Danube was swelling with the first rains of winter, and the forests were strewn with the yellow leaves that covered the grave of his dead sorrel, he went out from the solitudes of Monastica back to the living world.
