As he hesitated, unable to make up his mind what to do for the best, a heavy rumbling on the cobbles penetrated his absorption. Wild's figure. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. —'They can't, I tell you,' says I, in a bit of a passion; 'it's unconstitutional. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss.
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