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Unformatted text preview: e woman, Emaleth, my sister. "Queen Anne was your mother, and for witchcraft and for making monsters she was put to death." I shook my head. I saw only that poor frightened woman, screaming for me to be taken away. "The Boleyn," I whispered. And all the old tales came back of me of the martyrs of those times-the Carthusians and all the priests who would not ratify the evil marriage of the King to the Boleyn. My sister continued, emboldened when she saw I did not contradict or even speak at all. "And the Queen of England on the throne now is your sister," she said, "and so frightened is she of the blood from her mother that makes monsters that she will never suffer a man to touch her, and never wed!" My father tried to interrupt her, but she drove him back with her pointed finger as if it were a weapon that weakened him where he stood. "Silence, old man. You did it. You coupled with Anne when you knew she had the witch's finger, you knew it-and that, with her deformity and your...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10