He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. He had him removed from the Condemned Hold, stripped of his fine apparel, clothed in the most sordid rags, loaded with additional fetters, and thrust into the Stone Hold,—already described as the most noisome cell in the whole prison. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is.
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