Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

8 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

-----EXPERIENCES OF A DETECTIVE.…

--LONGING, j

[No title]

------<--A MAKER OF ANCESTORS.

Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu

< A MAKER OF ANCES- TORS. A ECEL Leroy was an artist. He was 25, with a sufficiently crood CDinion of himMlf. mtnv dreams, and not a little simplicity hidden under I a certain confidence of manner. He believed himself indubitably destined to gain the grand prize of Rome. He had even had his name in as competitor for two years in succession. The first year of want of success had hardly broken his belief in himself it is so rarely, be sa:d, that one aucceeda at the first attempt. The second trial, which had the same result, caused him some lugvbrious reflections. He had reckoned on bis prize" to get him out of a pain- ful position. Ettly an orphan, without fortune, he had lived like many of his fellows from day to-day, trying thirty-six different line" of work, from a portrait of the concierge to the tops of christening boxes, but all had brought him meagre cheer. He had contracted debts. These debts he felt certain to be able to py. He would be able to live from his grant money at the Villa Medicis; he would discharge his obligations by the sale of his pictures at the Salon; he would return to Paris "free from all money cares and set up as a painter d la. mode. Yes, the thing seemed to go of itself only, as in the fable, the jog was broken, the milk was spilt. The competition came to an eud, and another than he gained the prir-e. He was thinking of these not very joy- inspiring things when a knock came to the door. A gentleman entered. He was about fifty-five, bright eyes under bushy eyebr.-)w-, marked features, bony, the chin and upper lip I shaved with cate, reddish beard much mixed with wfiite; put on with great care, his clothes showed hardly a crease; diamond studs in his shirt. Maroel bowed, and the stranger returned the Maroel bowed, and the stranger returned the salute with a little nod. He was occupied in examining, comprehensively and rapidly, first the atelier and then the painter. The bright eyes seemed quite satisfied with the examination. The studio was not luxurious, however, and the artist, rather puzzled and disp'eased at tliis silent and unpolite entrance, assumed a rather haughty air. "To what must I attribute the honour of this visit, Monsieur ?" said he. For answer, the gentleman with the diamond studs drew out a little pocket-book in Russian I leather, and took thence a visiting card. It was the card of a great picture dealer introducing to the young painter Mr Terence M'Donagh, of New York. An instantaneous change came over the feelings of Marcel. He strongly regretted not to have put on his easel a picture almost finished, quite fitted, he thought, to tempt a rich picture fancier. "You speak English, I understand," said at last the visitor. Marcel reddened slightly, and said—"A few." An imperceptible smile showed itself an instant in the comers of the shaved mouth. Then speaking very slowly and raisibg his voice the stranger said, I didn't want to have an interpreter I like to look after my affairs myself. When you don't understand, stop me; I will write. Will you go to America to- morrow ?" Marcel leaped from his seat. "To America— to-morrow ?—it is impossible." Why ? You are not a woman, and you haven't thirty trunks to fill with frippery. Put some clean linen in a valise. You can get any- thing you want in Now York." "I do not understand, monsieur." Do you want me to write it ?" and already the American had taken out his gold pencil-case and prepared to write. No, no that which I do not understand is for what you wish to carry me away to America." "You interrupt," replied the American. Follow me closely; look at me, and I shall know if you have caught the sense of my words. Your profession is to make pictures. Good. I want a lot of pictures done. By taking a painter out to do them I shall save 33 per cent. duty, and I don't want to spend money uselessly. I didn't think of you at first; one of my friends had employed a specialist, but the specialist is dead. Do your eyes tell me you understand me ?" Yes." Very well. The dealer says you are in debt. Ah! you are vexed he told me that; he told me as well that if you are not exactly a genius, you had enough of talent for what I want you to do. Don't get yourself into a way because he has said that. It will take up time and there is none to lose. You are to make me old paintings, very black portraits of my ancestors." Marcel thought he was dealing with a madman. The madman smiled. It was the smile of a man who bad all his senses about him. "Does that astonish you? There is nothing astonishing in it. Everybody has ancestors, only everybody doesn't know them. That is my case; and I desire to make their acquaintance. I have built a bouse; it is an exact copy of a chateau in the Loire I forget its name. It is very fine it has cost me a lot of money, 250,000 dollars. There is a grand ball with a wood compartmented ceiling, painted an d gilded. There are, besides, in this hall thirty-two panels which will contain thirty-two portraits that you are to make. The dealer tells me that they make old as well as new portraits in your pr^fepsion. You will put a loti of black in your colours. Spore nothing. WWn one revives bis ancestors it is the least thing one can do to treat them well." Marcel, who had had difficulty all through to keep from laughing, let himself out at last in a laugh so lond and so prolonged that the American in no way disconcerted, allowed himself a. smile then, when the young man had recovered himself a little, he continued— Yes, I know it must appear very funny to you, but what is serious is that for each panel you will be paid 1500 francs. You won't need more than six or eight months to do the lot. You will have no expenses. You will come back and pay your debts. If you are discreet (I promise you to be so on my part), no one will know the kind of work you have been doing in America. AU that I ask of you is to work quickly, to shut yourself up at Idlewild (that is the name of my country place), and to let nobody see what you. are doing." This unheard-of, ridiculous idea, which had caused so much merriment to young Leroy, o&me nevertheless to be realised. Terence M'Donagh, when be had resolved on a thing, generally managed his end. Marcel did not need to concern himself about any. < thing. Thanks to the suggestions of the picture dealer, an enormous case filled with costumes, armoury, and old vestments of all sorts was at the station in We midst of the other luggage when the hour for leaving arrived. During the voyage out, which was rather a stormy one, the American was kind and attentive to the young painter, and somewhat mote com- municative than usual with him. Terence M'Donagh had had a bard time of it hi his youth. By and-bye, in company with a friend, who after* f' wards became his partner, he discovered and worked a silver mine in Nevada. His fortune was now tabulous. This man of enormous re- venues had personal tastes the most simple, and < liked better to serve himself than to be served by others. I Fortune,' he said, came to us very quickly once it began to come. One could say, however, I tbac its progress was marked by the Christiaa if names of my six daughters. The eldest was simply called Kate, in the time when Mrs M'Donagh made my shirts and dressed them, The second, when we bad a domestic, was called Blanche. Then very soon my wife, with her first silk dresses, had acquired a taste for the romantic and sentimental; so the four last bore names more and more grand-Violet, Maud, Ethel, and Imogen. Terence M'Donagh was intelligent enousrh to 1;lugh at his own weakness, but he did not renounce it for all that. Look here," he said, in an easy moment, to Marcel, the pride of name, the sonority of titles, the blazons, the fine escutcheons are the toys of old Europe that we want, as children want theirs. We envy the good fortune of those who possess them, but I hope, all the same, never to see my daughters married to Italian princes, unfortunate as these unions generally are, and I mean to offer them, instead, the nobility of the past." Arrived in New York, the young painter was speedily deposited in Tdlewild, one of the prettiest nooks of the marvellous country through which the Hudson runs. "Now, set to work," said his employer to him. I am off to embrace Mrs M'Donagh and my six daughters." Once installed in the chateau of which he was the sole occupant-the good woman who was charged to look after him lived in the lodge at the great gat,he found himself somewhat em- barrassed in beginning work of so novel a kind, and more than once he repented of having under- taken it. The historical ideas of Mr M'Donagh were somewhat vague. His fancy hovered between several nationalities, hut it was arranged to begin with the Crusades (to which Terence firmly held), then on through the Henry VIII. period and the Stuarts, as not failing to supply the picturesque. What remained undecided was the date and the reason of the emigration of the noble ancestors to America. In reailty, the grandfather of Terence was an Irish journalist, who had landed in New York at the beginning of the century without a farthing, but with a pronounced taste for whiskey. The ancestry pourtrayed should, of course, have quitted the mother country for a noble cause, religious or political. Mfircel pro- posed to make one of them a Roundhead, but Mr M'Donagh stuck to a follower of Charles I., for I the sake of the costume. The hours of work passed rapidly. The gallery formed a superb studio. But Marcel felt the want of society when over with his day's task, and together with the feeling of solitude and dulness which an occasional run into New York, where he did not know a soul, did nothing to dis- pel, there was no other way but to wo k with iury, to get on with the ancestors like steam. What troubled him was the want of models, and lie had to content hitcself with engravings and photo- gAphsofold pictures. Marcel leaped several genera- tions to arrive more speedily at the Stuart ancestry. The costume was in good condition. He tried it on him, and found himself a rather good-looking fellow in it and he posed before a great mirror set at the desired angle, and made himself serve as a model. A short note from Mr M'Donagh apprised him that a portion of the family was coming to the i-hateau he begged the painter to keep the door locked, aud not to betray his secret. It was evi- dent be had not consulted his wife or daughters in this matter. One day while Marcel was finishinga portrait, the resemblance to himself of which he tried to modify by a luxuriant head of fair hair (his own was black and cut short), he heird a rustling of dresses, and the handle of the locked door was softly turned. Then there were whisperings and little stifled laughs; then a firm, not to say imperious, band struck three sharp raps. Marcel kept firm. He had, however, a strong desire to open it was long since he had seen a woman's face. The old person that attended to I him did not count. The imperious hand knocked again, and a voice, a little impatient, cried, Open It was a young and fresh voice, agreeable to hear, in spite of the tone of com- mand. I cannot; the orders of Mr M'Donagh are explicit." Then I will send for a locksmith and get in by force." By what right The right of my own family; I am mistress here." "You will state that I have resisted," "I will." Marcel (who was dying with curiosity) opened without more ado. Each looked at the other with curiosity and surprise. Marcel saw before him I two lovely young girls—the one dressed perhaps I over elegantly, the other very simply in deep mourning and these two young girls opened their eyas in amazement at the sight of a cavalier of the time of Ubarles I., holding a palette in bis hand. The young elegantly-dressed lady advanced with head erect, but the comicality of the situation-struck her all of a sudden. She began to laugh, and the fine cavalier followed her example. "Pardon, sir," said she, but who are you, and what are you doing ? I call myself Marsel Leroy, inarlemoiselle I am making ancestors for Mr M'Donagh." The young girl ceased her laugh at once. "My father is his own ancestor," she said sharply. This was, then, one of the M'Donaghs Marcel looked at her more attentively she was very pretty, a handsome blonde. This miner's dauehter, born in a time of poverty, had the bearing of a queen. Djubtless the young girl in mourning, who smiled but did not speak, was her lady com- panion she aiso appeared to be pretty, but Marcel hardly gave her attention, dazzi d by the radiant appearance of Kate M'Douagh. Miss M'Donagh made him tell the wholp story, and on its conclusion laughed indulgently at the paternal weakness. The works already finished were then examined. But "are you not to give any female ancestors? A gallery solely masculine will look somewhat dulL" I am quite of your opinion, mademoiselle, but what can I do," insinuated the painter, without models?" "We shall be models, shall, we not, Minnie? Let us see what you have in female dresses." The house was no longer silent. Mrs M'Donagh with her youngest children arrived a few days after her daughter. Mr M'Donagh was in the Far West with his daughter Blanche. The pretty Kate was mistress of the house, her mother being in somewhat low health. Things went on ad- mirably for some time. Kate had chosen a costume of the time of Queen Elizabeth, in which she was dazzling. Minnie was got up in a Quaker dress of the time of William Penn. Kate and Minnie were perfectly at their ease. They had great pleasure in talking with the young artist. Kate had evidently seen the world more than her friend had. She was accus- tomed to homage, and & certain coquetry was not unknown to her, which, however, existed in no degree in her friend. Marcel explained this to himself very naturally. Kate was very rich. Minnie, he was' persuaded, was I very poor, an orphan probably, and acting as lady Companion to Kate. -They; had perhaps been i schoolmates, which would explain their great ¡' affection as if between equals. Often the two young friends came together, but at times the one t arrived without the other to give a short sitting. J Sometimes, also, days passed without Mareel seeing his gentle models. They had many people at the chateau, or they went to New York to make purcliaat*. These days appeared intermin- able to the young man. He began to ask himself i if be was not in love. In love ? be, a painter, without a penny, with the daughter of a mil- II lionaire? If he was enamoured of the brilliant Kate, he was not less so with her modest friend When she was seated to him as model for the Puritan ancestresll lie saw in her a beauty be had "j not previously perceived. Marcel's curiosity increased regarding his model Puritan, Profiting by a short Jilenco one day, when Minnie was "posing," be said, a little abruptly, "You and Mademoiselle M'Donagh were at school together, were you not I" "Yes, for some years', but I was there before she came. I was quite little, and had no mother. The mistress of ihe boarding-school, a far-off cousin of my father (who at that time with difficulty gained a livelihood), proposed to educate ma, and to make me afterwards her assistant. Without that I should hardly have been educated in a boarding-school so costly." He was not deceived then. She was without fortune; she had her living to make. And you have no fMr," hazarded Marcel, that vacations passed in princely luxury shall be a bad preparation for a lite of work ? Pardon me if the interest which my model inspires in me renders me indiscreet." reddened—in fact, she was a little sur- prised and perplexed, but she collected herself immediately, and a smile cause to her lipi. "No, I have no fear." There was a slightly embarrassing silence. Minnie had become serious. She continued— I have vary often thought, especially since I became an orphan, aud since my father's death has left me mistress of my own destiny, that young rich girls, like my friend Kate, for example, passing a life so empty, so occupied with trifles, and so little leading to desirable tili,igr,-Ul! lest a true marriage, as so rarely happens, may come to snatch the worldling from the world-are very much to be pitied." "They have the air, if I can judge of all by one example," said Marcel, laughing, "of being perfecly content with their lot. What says Mademoiselle Kate to this ?" "She laughs at me, as you are doing, M. Leroy, and she calls me 'strong- minded you may perhaps, indeed, deride me as a Socialist who has not yet attained her majority but in my opinion a great fortune is a trust, and tho millionaire who does not seek to relieve misery is a criminal." "But," said Marcel, what do you object to in your friend ? Her father's fortune if not her's." No but she has much influence over her father. If she said, 'Give me every year a sum for a hospital, or etidosv any charitable work I can manage,' her father would do it. She would thus employ herself she would relieve misery, and all would not hinder her being still a woman of fashion." "You are severe on your best friend," said M&rcel, a little coldly. "I have no wish to be severe," replied the young girl very sweetly. "I love Kate with rJl my heart. I know her to be capable of generosity and devotion. Her faults are inherent In her position. She believes she is courted solely for her money, nnd mistrusts everyone, thinking, too, to play with her cloud of suitors, while xemaining absolutely mistress of herself." There was a little coldness in the interviews with Minnie for soma days. Kate, when her turn came, was all amiability, ger,ting the painter to speak of his past, of his hopes and ambitions. S'ie listeneshe encouraged him, and avowed that her greatest regret was not to know as much as she would have liked in matters of art. Marcd began to lose his- head already, in spite of his resolution. She a c,,qil,tte she coldly mitle" of herself, amusing herself with the insect which fluttered round the fl>ime! Miss Minnie could keep her counsels for others he had no need of them. A hint came to him from another direction. One morning early Mtte-cel went to take a turn in the garden before beg nning his work. The young painter felt quite happy, and explained this emviable state of mind by the freshness of the morning air, not wishing to attribute it to the prospect or the sitting wh;ch .was to be given that day the last sitting, Itb. for the portrait of Miss M'Donagli was almost finished. Hallo cried someone to him. It was a child voice. Seeing no one, he looked round about.hitn, when a mocking laugh made him look ur. On a low branch of an apple tree Miss Maud M'Donagh, aged 11 year?, was seated munching an apple. "rt?ilVeia said she "it is very good." "Thanks, mademoiselle I do not like green and acid fruits, like little girls who mount into trees. Maud coutmned to bite the apple. "I eat apples because! choose. I would not like to be of your country, where your little gijli say Papa Mainma, like a doll I had last year." "And who has said that little girl of my country are like mechanical dolls ? K- te." Ali, Marcel o-ine near. Maud's bright little eyes twinkled. Ah, that interests you now You won't lecture me any rhore ?" }J, y°U ar'1 I will not." bat is to say if 1 Hpeak to you about Kate. I wish Kate was married she is twenty, and that s very old. All Kate's sweethearts ere very nice to me when I hpeotk of her to them, but one day I shall have sweethearts for myself." Mnrcel made a movement of surprise and anger — 1 All Kate,$sweethearts Oh, if you are going to be angry," said the littl- one, you shall know nothing." Wiiat is there to tell ?" said Marcel, in spite of himself. "I know," said Maud, still biting at her apple, ,tnafc yxn al'° fond of Kafce- Kate told Minnie that. When Minnie asked her if she woui'l con- sent to become Aira Marcel Leroy, she laughed, and Minnie got very serious. Then Kate got serious too (I was just above them in a tree, and I heard every Woni). She said that she did not believe in people having nothing more than a paiette to otfer in exchange for millions that she could, perhaps buy a prince's crown with hers. Then I heard nothing more, for Minnie went away angry and Kate followed her to make friends again. Marcel went off deeply wounded, and left Maud to her apples. Marcpl was still nnder the feeling of vexation when Miss M'Donagh came to give her last sitting. She found the painter very much occu- lied in examining some canvases covered with first sketches. "I see, M. Leroy, that you have been working between the sittings. There are quite a number of respectable ancestors now." "Yes, Mademoiselle, the work advances, but there is still a terrible deal to do. I was engaged in calculating approximately the time it would yet take me to finish my ta-k." "You long to leave u.,i? said Kate, with an expressive look of her beautiful eyes. It would be ungrateful of me, Mademoiselle, to say yes American hospitality has very many charms, and when it is practised by a young lady who has all the qualities and all the- graces for it, exile is rendered supportable." "My father will 'be Very :;r)rry to have inflicted on you so painful a stay," said Kate, much piqued Marcel laughed. "Monsieur your father, shall put on one side the balance ot the dollars he owes me and on the l'i regress of exile, and he shalf surely find that he pays largely the one with the other. I have been very happy in accepting his offer. It drew me out of a momentarily difficult position. On my return to Paris, it may bo possible, thanks to my pencil, to begin life again seriously—to start housekeeping." Perhaps you are going to get married ? Kate said, biting her lips. Siie had, perhaps, said more than she intended. How indiscreet I am You are right to many, and as soon as possible. If I were a man, and in your place, I would do the same, so as to have someone to vent my ill-humour upon, some one to dress my linen, and to lay bv my cents." "You hardly make marriage poetical, 11 You liii-dly make marriage poetical, 0 there is marriage and marriage. I am think- ing of those in your world •" Which can value sometimes the shameful bargains between millions and titles," he said. Kate locked at him with lofty grandeur. I do not understand. Am I in the pose ?" The sitting did not last long. Maud came running in to announce that papa had arrived. It was a relief to bo,-ti., The arrival of Mr M'Donagh, with his daughter Blanche, completely changed the aspect of life at the chuteau. Mr M'Donagh went to see t.he painter, approved of the work, commended his celerity, and then went off with his whole band to New York. Tiie silence and desertion seemed very hard to bear after so many weeks of very charming society. What surprised Marcel was to find that he missed the presence of Minnie as much as that of Kate. The disillusion had Peen painful, but was complete. Studying the two portraits, he was astonished that he had aver given the pre- terenea to Kate. He now found real beauty in the Quakeress. He had be n bliud and indifferent The more Marcel put from him the fascinating image of Kate the more he thought of Minnie. He loved to recall their conversations. Ah, if he had had an assured position, there were moments when he would havo risked her hand. But if love for a young woman too rich was unpardonable folly, love for agirl poor,bntaccustomed to luxury, would be equally culpable folly. The wisest way was to end his task as soon as possible, to pocket his dolhr, aud to return to Paris without seeing either X.-t-e or Minnie. Marcel at last saw with pleasure the comple- tion of h:8 task. He wrote to Mr M'Donagh that all his ancestors had been recalled to life, and that each was installed in the panel to which he was entitled. The American came with haste. The series of thirty-two personages began with a Knight Companion of Richard Coeur de Lion-a. Blondel M'Donagh, as it might be—and ended with Terence M'Donagh himself, holding in his hand a nugget of gold which latter idea did not displease the American miner,for though the mines were realty mines of silver, tho silver was easily transmutable into gold. The Atnerioan wrote a cheque on his New York banker. When do you go ?" Immediately. I shall take a short holiday, however. I shall probably visit Boston and Washington, and make a little acquaintance with New York." NL- rcel did not add that, ff he desired to visit New York, tirrrl were some of its inhabitants whom he wished to see before quitting the New < World for ever. "Gotd I" said M'Donagh. To-morrow they have a dance at our house, and, in fact, I am asked by the ladies to invite you to it." I Arrived, on the evening ot the ball, at the old minei'n house, which he found a veritable para- dise, he quickly noticed Kate in the whirl of a Waltz. Sue, too, perceived him, and abruptly quitting her companion, she came with extended bands towards the painter. Marcel bowed low. "No. you must give me your hand. Are we not to l o friends any more? If you |)ave for- gotten our talks at Idlewild. I have not forgotten i them." A few more words on either ride made them I friends again, Kate declaring that though she l had in a moment of ooquetry and thoughtlessness said the words which, repeated by someone, had I given snch offence to the artist, she felt real sym- pathy for a man of his loyalty and pride of heart. He had long, very long, conversations with Minnie. They saw each other the next day, and the day after that. Then, rthen the hour of part- ing came, Marcel could hardly break away from ber sweet presence. 1 Adieu," said Minnie to him. Adieu?" said Marcel. "That is impos- I sible it seems to me that, in leaving you, I leave the best pa.rt of my life, and yet I dare not say au levoir. I dare not say wait till I have a name, a little comfort to offer you, for that, Minuie, would be to say, wait a long time." I "Say au revoir, bnt only that," replied Minnie. I am going to Europe next autumn with a family, and we shall go to see Paris." The summer passed. Then the leaves yel- lowed and fell, and Ma reel was still waiting. He j had worked well. He had succeeded with his j pictures, and several had been bought, chiefly by amateurs sent by Mr M'Donagh. The atelier assumed by degrees a cheerful and pros- '¡' atelier assumed by degrees a cheerful and pros- perous aspect. All his debts were paid, and fortune smiled on the young man. Marcel, however, was ill at ease. Since his departure from New York Its -ha(i received no news of Minnie. He ran hii eyes. y through, the t' American newspapers, for what special reason he could hardly tell but one time lie read two lines in them with siugular interest. An heiress I' of twenty-one had founded an institution at New York for the education and art training of young girls w thout fortune. He wondered whether this young parson had heard his inspired Quakeress propound her views as to the disposal of the money of the rich. She had said in the autumn," and now it was the end ot October. He was beginning to despair, and even say some hard things, when at last one fiue day Minnie entered his atelier. "You have been expecting me?" said she smiling. "It appears to me ages that I have been waiting your coming. Ah, you will not leave me more. VVe shall not be rich, Minnie, but I can now offer you my hand without shame." you my hand without shame." I And if I had the fortune of Kate M'Donagh, would you not have married me 2 Il Ah. nc; upon my word." They remained a long time talking, hand-in- I hand, and it was arranged that the marriage should take place immediately the requisite formalities were gone through. I must go now, however; my friends expect me." Your friends Ah, the family in which you are governess; will they allow me to see you?" "Yes, yee," replied Minnie, smiling; "come this evening to the Hotel Meurice." In the evening, Marcel was shown into a room in which there were several persons. "Minnie will be here immediately," said a lady, who appeared to know the circumstances. Marcel sat down to wait. A little girl of about the age of Maud M'Donagh was seated near him, and was eyeing him a little timidly. To encourage her Marcel said— "Mademoiselle Minnie, is she severe? She is your g,)vernet; is site not?" I The little girl stared. Why, she i, or rather she was, one of the richest heiresses in the t: nitel States. Her father was Mr M'Donagh's partner, and she h's only child. She', a overne"<'1; what a funny idea! She htit3 founded an hospital with her fortune. There is enough left of it, however Marcel was astounded. He rose sharply, and went forward to meet Minnie, who entered at this m0ment. You have deceived me, mademoiselle." You are deceiving yourself, Marcel, and I have treacherously profited by your mistake to make yon love me. My father's history resembles very much that of his partner, Mr M'Donagh. Oniy t had not ttie courage.of Kate. I had fear of fortune—the fear of becoming frivolous and woildiv-above all, that of being courted for my dollars. In niarryinp, me you shall not marry one I over-rich and for myself, I shall have had the satisfaction of putting my theories into practice wi ile thus securing my own happiness and I trust yours also—it least, I hope so, my dear bethrotbed." < THIC END.

.-:':=:7"---ABOUT A DIRECTORY.

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THE POACHER'S REVENGE;

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