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Jean del' Peyra was standing scraping a staff to form a lance-shaft. The sun shone hot upon him, and at his feet lay his shadow as a blot. He was too much engrossed in his work to look about him, till he heard a voice call from somewhere above his head- "Out of the way, clown!"
Jean del' Peyra was standing scraping a staff to form a lance-shaft. The sun shone hot upon him, and at his feet lay his shadow as a blot. He was too much engrossed in his work to look about him, till he heard a voice call from somewhere above his head- "Out of the way, clown!"
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