” “Have you been getting enough sleep lately, Martin?” He almost tripped. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. She had finally managed to start breaking him down. When the prisoner was brought into this room, he was again questioned; but, continuing contumacious, preparations were made for inflicting the torture.
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