Jean-Paul has written a little revolutionary poem for me -
I hear rushing of muskets, and bright'ning of swords, and visages redd'ning with war,
Frowning and looking up from brooding villages and every dark'ning city.
Ancient wonders frown over the kingdom, and cries of women and babes are heard,
And tempests of doubt roll around me, and fierce sorrows, because of the nobles of France.
Depart! answer not! for the tempest must fall, as in years that are passed away.'
He then explained that the hotel had only a double bed room left.
Updates for you tomorrow. Byeee!!
Revolution.
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