Chap.

1    XXI| gros rire railleur, il te manque justement la clé des champs,
2  XXIII| son arbalète.~ ~ ~– Je ne manque guère mon coup, messire,
Best viewed with any browser at 800x600 or 768x1024 on Tablet PC
IntraText® (VA2) - Some rights reserved by EuloTech SRL - 1996-2011. Content in this page is licensed under a Creative Commons License