The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Part of her felt like laughing insanely at how badly she had been duped.
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