And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. The pavement had been hastily picked up, and heaped across the end of the street, upon which planks, barrels, and other barricades, were laid.
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