Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. He resolved to judge for himself. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. But he did not find the sword of monsieur le major, for this sergeant would have recognised it and told me that I am arrested again.
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