32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. ‘So now you will please to go away and leave me to my business. Man's fate is in his own hands.
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