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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Hated Son by Honore de Balzac: beloved, and scarcely found her, so emaciated was she. White as her
own laces, with scarcely a breath left, she gathered up all her
strength to clasp Etienne's hand, and to give him her whole soul, as
heretofore, in a look. Chaverny had bequeathed to her all his life in
a last farewell. Beauvouloir and Bertrand, the mother and the sleeping
duke were all once more assembled. Same place, same scene, same
actors! but this was funereal grief in place of the joys of
motherhood; the night of death instead of the dawn of life. At that
moment the storm, threatened by the melancholy moaning of the sea
since sundown, suddenly burst forth.
"Dear flower of my life!" said the mother, kissing her son. "You were
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