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属类: 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 丹-布朗] 阅读:[25826]
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索菲的"都市精灵"与大使馆和领事馆飞速地擦肩而过,穿越了使馆区,最后冲上一条人行道,右转返回到宽阔的香榭丽舍大街。

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兰登攥着拳头坐在乘客席上,扭身向后张望,看看是否有警察的踪迹。忽然,他希望自己没有做出逃跑的决定。实际上,你也没做过这样的决定,他提醒自己。当索菲将全球定位系统跟踪器扔出厕所时,她已经替兰登做出了决定。现在,他们正加速离开大使馆,穿行在车辆行人稀少的香榭丽舍大街上。兰登觉得他刚才选择返回国家展厅的决定,使事情变得更糟了。虽然眼下索菲甩掉了警察,但谁知道这好运能停留多久呢。

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索菲一手操纵着方向盘,一手在毛衣口袋中摸索。她拿出了一个金属小玩意儿,递给兰登。"罗伯特,你最好看看这个。这是祖父留在《岩间圣母》后面的。"

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兰登急切地接过那个东西,仔细端详起来。它是十字形的,沉甸甸的。兰登感觉自己仿佛拿着一个微型的坟前十字架--那种插在墓前,用来纪念死者的十字桩。但他又注意到,十字形钥匙柄下的钥匙身是三棱柱形的,上面随机排列着上百个精致的小洞。

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"这是一把激光塑模的钥匙。"索菲告诉他。"锁上的电子孔会读取钥匙身上小洞的排列信息。"一把钥匙?兰登从来没有见过这样的钥匙。

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"看看另一面。"索菲将车开过一个十字路口,驶入另一条街道。

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兰登将钥匙翻转过来,变得目瞪口呆,只见那十字形钥匙柄的中心刻着法国百合的花样和首字母缩写P.S.!"索菲。"他说。"这就是我说过的那个图案,这是郇山隐修会的标志。"索菲点了点头:"我说过,我很久以前就见过这把钥匙。祖父让我不要再提起它。"

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兰登仍死死地盯着那把刻着图案的钥匙。它运用高科技制造而成,却刻着古老的象征符号,反映了古今世界的奇妙融合。

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"他告诉我这把钥匙可以打开一个盒子,盒子里藏着他的许多秘密。"

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雅克。索尼埃这样的人会保守什么样的秘密呢?兰登想到这个问题,不禁打了个冷战。

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他无法理解为什么一个古老教会要使用如此现代化的钥匙。隐修会的存在只为了一个目的,那就是保守一个秘密--一个有巨大威力的秘密。这把钥匙会不会与此有关呢?兰登不禁要这样揣测。"你知道它是用来开什么的吗?"

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索菲看上去很失望:"我希望你会知道。"

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兰登不说话了,只是翻动、打量着手中的十字形钥匙。

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"它看上去与基督教有关。"索菲接着说。

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兰登无法确认这说法是否属实。钥匙柄并不是传统的基督教十字形,而是一个正方十字形--像交叉的两条线段那样长。这种符号的诞生比基督教的成立早了一千五百年。传统的基督教十字形源于罗马的一种刑具,但正方十字形则完全与此无关。兰登总是惊奇地发现,很少会有基督教徒知道他们的象征符号的名称反映了一段暴力的历史:英文单词十字架‘cross’、‘十字形crucifix’源于拉丁文"cruciare",而这个单词就表示"酷刑"、"折磨"。

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"索菲。"兰登说道。"据我所知,这种正方十字形被视为‘和平’的十字。它的外形使得它不可能被用做刑具,交叉的两条线段一样长,暗含着男女自然融合的寓意。它的象征意义与隐修会的思想是一致的。"索菲不耐烦地看了他一眼。"你不知道它是用来开什么的吗?"

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兰登皱了皱眉头。"一点儿也看不出来。"

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"好吧,我们必须把车停了。"索菲对车后镜看了看。"我们必须找个地方来想想这钥匙到底是用来开什么的。"兰登非常渴望回到丽兹酒店的舒适客房中去,但很显然那是不可能的。

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"去找驻巴黎的美国大学接待人怎么样?"

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"太容易暴露目标了。法希会去检查他们的。"

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"你一定认识人的。你住在这里呀。"

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"法希会根据我的电话和电子邮件记录与我的同事取得联系,他们都会听法希的。找饭店也不行,那得要身份证。"兰登再次觉得被法希在卢浮宫逮捕会比现在更好些。"那我们打电话给大使馆。我可以向他们解释情况,让大使馆派人到什么地方接应我们。""接应我们?"索菲扭头看着兰登,那眼神仿佛在问兰登是否在说疯话。

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"罗伯特,别做梦了。你们的大使馆在领地之外没有司法权。派人来接应我们就等于援助法国政府的逃犯。那是不可能的。如果你走进大使馆请求临时避难,那另当别论,但要让他们在这方面采取行动对抗法国的法律?"索菲摇了摇头。"如果你现在打电话给大使馆,他们只会让你避免更大的损失,向法希自首。然后,他们会保证将通过外交途径让你受到公正的审判。"她看了看香榭丽舍大街上那排优雅的时尚店。"你带了多少现金?"

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兰登看了看钱包。"一百美元。还有一点儿欧元。怎么了?"

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"带信用卡了吗?"

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"当然。"

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索菲加快了车速。兰登凭直觉知道她又在构想一个计划。前面是死路了,香榭丽舍大街的尽头矗立着凯旋门--那是拿破仑为炫耀其战果而建的高达164 英尺的拱门。它被法国最大的环行公路围绕着,那是拥有九车道的庞然大物。

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当行驶到环行公路时,索菲又看了看车后镜。"我们暂时甩掉了他们。"索菲说。"但如果我们不下车的话,不出五分钟他们又会发现我们了。"那就偷一辆车,兰登暗自思忖,反正我们是罪犯。

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索菲踩下油门,将车开上环行公路。"相信我。"

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兰登没有回答。"相信"让他今晚遇到了太多的麻烦。他拉起夹克衫的袖子,看了看表,那是一块珍藏版的米奇老鼠手表,是兰登十岁生日时父母送给他的生日礼物。虽然那孩子气的表盘经常引来怪异的目光,但这是兰登所拥有的唯一的一块手表。是迪斯尼的动画把他引入了形象和颜色的神奇世界,现在米奇老鼠还每天提醒兰登永葆一颗童心。此刻,米奇的两个手臂形成了一个不自然的夹角,表明的时间:2:51 A.M.

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"有趣的手表。"索菲边说,边让车顺着环行公路拐了一个逆时针的大弯。

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"说来话长。"兰登把袖口拉了下来。

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"我想也是。"她冲兰登一笑,把车开下了环行公路,又继续向北开去,离开了市中心。

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他们穿过两个亮着绿灯的十字路口,来到第三个十字路口时,他们向右急转弯,驶上了梅尔歇布大道。他们已经离开了豪华的三车道使馆区,驶入了稍稍有点儿昏暗的工业区。索菲向左来了个急转弯,几分钟后,兰登方才辨认出他们的方位。

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圣拉查尔火车站。

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在他们前方,那玻璃屋顶的火车终点站聚集着刚下火车的人群。欧洲的火车站是通宵开放的。即使是在此时,还有很多出租车在出口处接客。小贩们推着小车叫卖三明治和矿泉水,刚从车站里出来的被大人背着的小家伙眨巴着眼睛,似乎要努力地记住眼前的这个城市。在路口,有几个警察站在路沿上,为找不着北的旅游者们指路。

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虽然街对面有足够的停车空间,索菲还是将"都市精灵"停在于那排出租车的后面。还没等兰登问这是怎么回事,索菲已经跳下了车。她急匆匆地跑到一辆出租车的窗前,和司机交谈起来。

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当兰登跳下车时,看见索菲正将一大叠现金交给出租车司机。司机点了点头。令兰登大惑不解的是,司机并没有带上他们,而是自个儿把车开走了。

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"怎么了?"兰登跨上路沿,站到索菲跟前。这时那辆车已经从他们的视线中消失了。

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索菲又向火车站人口走去。"来,我们买两张票,搭下一班车离开巴黎。"

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兰登急匆匆地跟在她身旁。现在,到美国使馆的一英里冲刺已经彻头彻尾地变成了从巴黎向外潜逃。兰登越来越不喜欢这个主意了。

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The security alarm on the west end of the Denon Wing sent the pigeons in the nearby TuileriesGardens scattering as Langdon and Sophie dashed out of the bulkhead into the Paris night. As theyran across the plaza to Sophie’s car, Langdon could hear police sirens wailing in the distance.

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"That’s it there," Sophie called, pointing to a red snub-nosed two-seater parked on the plaza.

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She’s kidding, right? The vehicle was easily the smallest car Langdon had ever seen.

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"SmartCar," she said. "A hundred kilometers to the liter."Langdon had barely thrown himself into the passenger seat before Sophie gunned the SmartCar upand over a curb onto a gravel divider. He gripped the dash as the car shot out across a sidewalk andbounced back down over into the small rotary at Carrousel du Louvre.

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For an instant, Sophie seemed to consider taking the shortcut across the rotary by plowing straightahead, through the median’s perimeter hedge, and bisecting the large circle of grass in the center.

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"No!" Langdon shouted, knowing the hedges around Carrousel du Louvre were there to hide theperilous chasm in the center—La Pyramide Inversée—the upside-down pyramid skylight he hadseen earlier from inside the museum. It was large enough to swallow their Smart-Car in a singlegulp. Fortunately, Sophie decided on the more conventional route, jamming the wheel hard to theright, circling properly until she exited, cut left, and swung into the northbound lane, acceleratingtoward Rue de Rivoli.

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The two-tone police sirens blared louder behind them, and Langdon could see the lights now in hisside view mirror. The SmartCar engine whined in protest as Sophie urged it faster away from theLouvre. Fifty yards ahead, the traffic light at Rivoli turned red. Sophie cursed under her breath andkept racing toward it. Langdon felt his muscles tighten.

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"Sophie?"Slowing only slightly as they reached the intersection, Sophie flicked her headlights and stole aquick glance both ways before flooring the accelerator again and carving a sharp left turn throughthe empty intersection onto Rivoli. Accelerating west for a quarter of a mile, Sophie banked to theright around a wide rotary. Soon they were shooting out the other side onto the wide avenue ofChamps-Elysées.

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As they straightened out, Langdon turned in his seat, craning his neck to look out the rear windowtoward the Louvre. The police did not seem to be chasing them. The sea of blue lights wasassembling at the museum.

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His heartbeat finally slowing, Langdon turned back around. "That was interesting."Sophie didn’t seem to hear. Her eyes remained fixed ahead down the long thoroughfare of Champs-Elysées, the two-mile stretch of posh storefronts that was often called the Fifth Avenue of Paris.

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The embassy was only about a mile away, and Langdon settled into his seat. So dark the con ofman. Sophie’s quick thinking had been impressive. Madonna of the Rocks.

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Sophie had said her grandfather left her something behind the painting. A final message? Langdoncould not help but marvel over Saunière’s brilliant hiding place; Madonna of the Rocks was yetanother fitting link in the evening’s chain of interconnected symbolism. Saunière, it seemed, atevery turn, was reinforcing his fondness for the dark and mischievous side of Leonardo da Vinci.

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Da Vinci’s original commission for Madonna of the Rocks had come from an organization knownas the Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception, which needed a painting for the centerpiece ofan altar triptych in their church of San Francesco in Milan. The nuns gave Leonardo specificdimensions, and the desired theme for the painting—the Virgin Mary, baby John the Baptist, Uriel,and Baby Jesus sheltering in a cave. Although Da Vinci did as they requested, when he deliveredthe work, the group reacted with horror. He had filled the painting with explosive and disturbingdetails.

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The painting showed a blue-robed Virgin Mary sitting with her arm around an infant child,presumably Baby Jesus. Opposite Mary sat Uriel, also with an infant, presumably baby John theBaptist. Oddly, though, rather than the usual Jesus-blessing-John scenario, it was baby John whowas blessing Jesus... and Jesus was submitting to his authority! More troubling still, Mary washolding one hand high above the head of infant John and making a decidedly threateninggesture—her fingers looking like eagle’s talons, gripping an invisible head. Finally, the mostobvious and frightening image: Just below Mary’s curled fingers, Uriel was making a cuttinggesture with his hand—as if slicing the neck of the invisible head gripped by Mary’s claw-likehand.

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Langdon’s students were always amused to learn that Da Vinci eventually mollified theconfraternity by painting them a second, "watered-down" version of Madonna of the Rocks inwhich everyone was arranged in a more orthodox manner. The second version now hung inLondon’s National Gallery under the name Virgin of the Rocks, although Langdon still preferredthe Louvre’s more intriguing original.

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As Sophie gunned the car up Champs-Elysées, Langdon said, "The painting. What was behind it?"Her eyes remained on the road. "I’ll show you once we’re safely inside the embassy.""You’ll show it to me?" Langdon was surprised. "He left you a physical object?"Sophie gave a curt nod. "Embossed with a fleur-de-lis and the initials P.S."Langdon couldn’t believe his ears.

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We’re going to make it, Sophie thought as she swung the SmartCar’s wheel to the right, cuttingsharply past the luxurious H.tel de Crillon into Paris’s tree-lined diplomatic neighborhood. Theembassy was less than a mile away now. She was finally feeling like she could breathe normallyagain.

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Even as she drove, Sophie’s mind remained locked on the key in her pocket, her memories ofseeing it many years ago, the gold head shaped as an equal-armed cross, the triangular shaft, theindentations, the embossed flowery seal, and the letters P.S.

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Although the key barely had entered Sophie’s thoughts through the years, her work in theintelligence community had taught her plenty about security, and now the key’s peculiar tooling nolonger looked so mystifying. A laser-tooled varying matrix. Impossible to duplicate. Rather thanteeth that moved tumblers, this key’s complex series of laser-burned pockmarks was examined byan electric eye. If the eye determined that the hexagonal pockmarks were correctly spaced,arranged, and rotated, then the lock would open.

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Sophie could not begin to imagine what a key like this opened, but she sensed Robert would beable to tell her. After all, he had described the key’s embossed seal without ever seeing it. Thecruciform on top implied the key belonged to some kind of Christian organization, and yet Sophieknew of no churches that used laser-tooled varying matrix keys.

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Besides, my grandfather was no Christian....

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Sophie had witnessed proof of that ten years ago. Ironically, it had been another key—a far morenormal one—that had revealed his true nature to her.

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The afternoon had been warm when she landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport and hailed a taxihome. Grand-père will be so surprised to see me, she thought. Returning from graduate school inBritain for spring break a few days early, Sophie couldn’t wait to see him and tell him all about theencryption methods she was studying.

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When she arrived at their Paris home, however, her grandfather was not there. Disappointed, sheknew he had not been expecting her and was probably working at the Louvre. But it’s Saturdayafternoon, she realized. He seldom worked on weekends. On weekends, he usually—Grinning, Sophie ran out to the garage. Sure enough, his car was gone. It was the weekend. JacquesSaunière despised city driving and owned a car for one destination only—his vacation chateau inNormandy, north of Paris. Sophie, after months in the congestion of London, was eager for thesmells of nature and to start her vacation right away. It was still early evening, and she decided toleave immediately and surprise him. Borrowing a friend’s car, Sophie drove north, winding into thedeserted moon-swept hills near Creully. She arrived just after ten o’clock, turning down the longprivate driveway toward her grandfather’s retreat. The access road was over a mile long, and shewas halfway down it before she could start to see the house through the trees—a mammoth, oldstone chateau nestled in the woods on the side of a hill.

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Sophie had half expected to find her grandfather asleep at this hour and was excited to see thehouse twinkling with lights. Her delight turned to surprise, however, when she arrived to find thedriveway filled with parked cars—Mercedeses, BMWs, Audis, and a Rolls-Royce.

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Sophie stared a moment and then burst out laughing. My grand-père, the famous recluse! JacquesSaunière, it seemed, was far less reclusive than he liked to pretend. Clearly he was hosting a partywhile Sophie was away at school, and from the looks of the automobiles, some of Paris’s mostinfluential people were in attendance.

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Eager to surprise him, she hurried to the front door. When she got there, though, she found itlocked. She knocked. Nobody answered. Puzzled, she walked around and tried the back door. It toowas locked. No answer.

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Confused, she stood a moment and listened. The only sound she heard was the cool Normandy airletting out a low moan as it swirled through the valley.

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No music.

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No voices.

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Nothing.

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In the silence of the woods, Sophie hurried to the side of the house and clambered up on awoodpile, pressing her face to the living room window. What she saw inside made no sense at all.

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"Nobody’s here!"The entire first floor looked deserted.

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Where are all the people?

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Heart racing, Sophie ran to the woodshed and got the spare key her grandfather kept hidden underthe kindling box. She ran to the front door and let herself in. As she stepped into the deserted foyer,the control panel for the security system started blinking red—a warning that the entrant had tenseconds to type the proper code before the security alarms went off.

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He has the alarm on during a party?

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Sophie quickly typed the code and deactivated the system.

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Entering, she found the entire house uninhabited. Upstairs too. As she descended again to thedeserted living room, she stood a moment in the silence, wondering what could possibly behappening.

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It was then that Sophie heard it.

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Muffled voices. And they seemed to be coming from underneath her. Sophie could not imagine.

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Please sign in to unlock the rest

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Please sign in to unlock the rest

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Walking toward the bare wooden wall, Sophie sensed the chanting getting louder. Hesitant, sheleaned her ear against the wood. The voices were clearer now. People were definitely chanting...

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intoning words Sophie could not discern.

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