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*** “I’m not going to do it.” Caroline repeated, slamming down her mug. “Just think about it, Lulu.” Philippe pleaded. “Why won’t you understand, Philippe? It might as well be her dying wish, for me to stay in my home country.” “You’re already in so much trouble. They’re looking for the gold thief! If you don’t leave France, they’ll kill you.” “Just get me another drink, Philippe.” He let out a defeated sigh and turned to get the bottle. These were the days that Caroline liked the most. It was warm but dreary, the cool rain pitter-pattering down at short intervals. Not that many people were out; only the occasional peddler or merchant who couldn’t afford to miss a day of work. She remembered being that poor once. But then she had resorted to stealing. She didn’t feel any remorse. So she had stolen a few hundred… thousand dollars’ worth of goods and killed a few dozen guards. Did it really matter? It was kill or die on the streets of Strasbourg, especially when the Great Plague had rolled in. She had come close to death more times than she wanted to remember. Caroline unconsciously trailed her fingers along the scar that ran nearly straight across her left eyebrow. Caroline suddenly heard the faint sounds of hooves. Philippe heard them too. “Run, Caroline!” Philippe hissed. “I can’t leave you here, Philippe!” Caroline exclaimed. “If they know I’m here, they’ll kill you!” She knew he would never even think about telling anyone about her. Philippe’s black eyes gleamed. “You underestimate me, mon chère.” Lulu smiled and got up so fast she nearly knocked over her stool. She couldn’t run. If she could hear them, then they could hear her. By the time she was on a roof, she could hear the voice of Philippe, meek and quiet, ... ... middle of paper ... ...ro.” The archduke had the guts to say. “If you hadn’t done all this, we wouldn’t have had a need to find her.” “How can you do this?” Caroline muttered. “She was your wife.” “Just tell us who got you into all this, Caro.” The archduke besought. “Tell us, and we’ll let you go.” Caroline let out a huff. Then she began to giggle. In a few moments she was doubled over, laughing. “What’s so funny?!” The archduke bellowed. Caroline managed to compose herself. She would never give Philippe up. He was the father she had never had. “I got into this myself, father.” Caroline said sweetly. “What are you going to do about that?” The archduke sighed—maybe with a hint of actual remorse towards what he was doing—and turned to the guards. “Send her to the gallows.” As she was dragged off, Caroline smiled to herself. She would rather die than give up what little love she owned.

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