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The Last Evening Alain sitting at the very advantage of the chimney-like starting in the aspect of the hill. He positioned the arch of his left foot at the bottom of the teardrop loop of his long escape rope. He appeared up at the nearly motionless dark areas of those who got arrive to help him, or to state great ok bye simply. In the darkness there were only eyes, sad eyes, painful and resolute. Alain got envious and exhausted eye, but hardly ever regretful of his required get away. He understood all the actual encounters that kept those eye and treasured them. He remembered each for their sparkle of recognition for the good things he tried to do, or the true method some would close one attention as if to issue his behavior of the minute. "Go", he heard. "God is definitely at your aspect, Alain." He ended up gradually into the starting, some small shifting with him but hurrying forward, striking against the edges tough wall space, the audio removal as it shifted further and further down the passing. His eye and encounter had been damp and his body trembled at the whispering terms of education above him, as his close friends expanded the string gradually, raising his range and towards a feeling of helplessness painfully. Morning Troops in large numbers were moving through the open fields that surround Montsegur and towards the roadway that lead up to the fortress. A large sunlight soaked solid wood stockade at the feet of the hill, recently built and nesting in bright yellow hue mustard pot spots swaying softly, was the view of the majority of the activity. The lovely smell of the grasses and the rhythmic sounds of faraway working and the clanking of truck tires on the impolite roads provided a joyous feeling to the occurrences of this morning hours. A Circus of players in gaudy outfits, equipped with absurd hats,...