He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. The pistol fell to the floor.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM1LjE4Mi4yMjEgLSAyMi0wOS0yMDI0IDAyOjA3OjQxIC0gMTI2OTg3Njk0OA==
This video was uploaded to tructiepcauthongthuongde.org on 19-09-2024 05:02:25
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8