Music Oft Hath Such a Charm

Ladies did not run. Nuns did not run (unless there was a small child in imminent danger of being hurt). Those who had been born ladies and became nuns definitely did not run.

Angelique supposed that she was even worse at being both lady and nun than she supposed she had been, for she ran.

She pushed the door open and stumbled into the sheltered courtyard of the abbey, her practical wooden-soled boots (no more soft slippers for her) thunking against the cobblestones. Her speed would shock the monks, she was sure, but could not bring herself to care.

News had just come to Angelique. Her mother was finally, finally, in a fit state to receive guests. And Angelique didn’t care how many toddlers fell down the stairs and cracked their newly-won teeth in her absence; she was going to see her mother.

It had been four long days since Mother Julian had first sent to Angelique that her mother was coming to the nunnery. Four long days when Angelique was only allowed to see Claire while she slept. “She’s too agitated,” Mother Julian had said. “Sister Angelique, I know she is your mother, and I know you want to see her, but I’m honestly afraid what seeing you might do to her, in the state she’s in.” And that witch Morgan le Fay, king’s sister or no king’s sister, had stood behind Mother Julian and nodded like a bloody sage.

The girls, whom Angelique had liberally supplied with forbidden candy in order to get an update on status, had confirmed that Claire was not in good shape — “She’s scary,” Rhoslyn had said, gnawing on a sweetmeat Angelique had gained by taking the sweetseller’s son behind the counter and making out with him — in her habit — until he begged for mercy.

Nyasha had nodded. “She screams and cries a lot. And she’s only happy when she’s with the piano.”

That little bit of information was worth every moment of the sweetseller’s son’s sticky hands all over her habit; it was worth every minute of his rancid-chicken mouth on hers. (Why, oh why, couldn’t a sweetseller’s son’s mouth taste like candy? It was one of the mysteries of the world, Angelique supposed.) It was that bit of information that enabled Angelique to receive Mother Julian’s note, and not run — and thus waste time — to the refectory or dining room or bedchambers of the nunnery, but to the chapel instead, as fast as her still-young legs could carry her.

Angelique threw the door open, darted inside, ready to scream, “Mother!” at the top of her lungs like a little girl only a third of her age —

She froze.

 The music

It washed over the hard wooden walls of the chapel like a sweet babbling brook, sweeping up all of Angelique’s troubles and tossing them up like a pile of leaves picked up by a busy toddler. It was the sort of music, Angelique was certain, that the fae — demons though they were supposed to be — danced to. She could see the notes spinning around her, darting to her and taking her cares away to play keep-away with them.

Angelique grabbed the doorpost for support, the cool stone rough and real against her hand. She understood, now, what was meant by a hymn of praise. It was not the empty words she practiced and practiced with her music master, meant to give glory to Wright but really giving glory to her voice. She only sang those because she was allowed to sing nothing else. This song — this song made her want to sing, something real, something that would express her true love and appreciation for all of Creation.

And then the music stopped in mid-phrase.

Angelique gasped. Surely, surely —

The music started up again — a few measures back — more slowly, picking its way from note to note like a spry-limbed youth hopping from stone to stone across a forest stream. It reached the offending measure and chose a new series of notes. Then it stopped again.

It reached back, again slowly, and tried the phrases again. And Angelique understood.

Her mother — tucked into that tiny corner between altar and seating area — was not playing. She was composing.

Mother never told us she could do that!

“Oh, Mother!” Angelique called out — before realizing that it might, just might, be a bad idea.

The notes cut off with the indignant squawk of a flock of rooks set upon by a hawk. Claire gasped and turned around, her hand over her heart. She saw Angelique and said nothing.

Mother?

“An–Angelique?”

“Mama!” Angelique ran again, her footsteps ringing through the chapel; Claire barely had time to stand before Angelique barreled into her arms. “Mama!”

“Angelique,” Claire whispered. “Is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me — who else would it be? Clarice shrunk?”

“Angelique …”

“Oh, Mama.” Angelique buried her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Mother Julian told me you were — you were too sick to see me!”

“Too sick to see you?”

“Aye — but oh, Mama, I’m so glad you’re better now!”

“I’m — better?”

“Of course you are. You seem so much better!” Angelique remembered her mother’s sleeping form, pale, paler than usual, tossing her head from side to side and moaning in nightmares.

“I do?”

“Yes, yes, you do! That music — it was beautiful!”

Claire pulled away, staring at her daughter’s face. “It was?”

“Of course it was!”

And for the first time in a long time, Angelique saw her mother smile.

“You think it’s good,” Claire murmured. “And you know music.”

“Well, I should hope so, after all those music lessons!” And all I’ve done to keep them, too, Angelique thought. She would have wrinkled her nose, but now was not the time to consider with distaste just what she had to do to keep her music and her sanity. Morgan le Fay and Mother Julian had given her too many talks on her mother’s fragile state.

But how can anyone who can make something that beautiful be so fragile?

Then again, what was more fragile than music — beautiful, yes, but gone with a passing breeze?

“Your father would call it noise,” Claire murmured. “And Mother Julian has said nothing at all.”

Angelique felt her voice stick in her throat. Her father? Her father called it bad? But surely he could not be so foolish! Surely, surely he must be able to hear the genius that went into something as gossamer-fine as that melody! How could he think that?

Then again … her father somehow thought she would be a good nun …

Angelique backed her thoughts away from the ledge of treason, and forced herself to answer. “Well, Mother, has he — has he heard that one?”

“I … I just made it now …”

“So then, he can’t think it’s just noise!”

“Oh, Angelique,” Claire sighed. “It doesn’t matter if he’s heard it or not. He thinks it’s all noise.”

All? She’s made more?

“It doesn’t matter, of course,” Claire added. “It’s just a pastime. Just a way to … fill the hours, I suppose …”

The flush that had crept into Claire’s cheeks as Angelique spilled her compliments was fading. The eyes that had lit up were darkening again. And the shivering, nightmare-tossed Claire de Ganis that Angelique had seen was coming again to the fore, pushing the mother that Angelique wanted to see down again.

“It’s not just a pastime. Not if you’re that good. You should be — should be –” Angelique scrambled for a way for her mother to use her talent, something acceptable, since running away and becoming the official Court Bard of Glasonland was probably not on the cards. “You should be composing a song for Lynn and the Prince to dance to! At the wedding!”

Claire’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no! Not that!”

“Well, if not a dancing song, then, what about a wedding march song? You know, for when they’re coming up the aisle? I’m sure Lynn would love it!”

“But … but …”

“And I could play it for you, you know. If you wanted to sit in the pews and watch,” Angelique added. “I mean, as a … as a nun …”

Claire shuddered.

“I just mean, Mother, that nobody would blink if I participated in the ceremony like that! That’s all!”

“I don’t … I don’t want to …” Claire looked up, up and away, and Angelique tried her best to keep smiling. For was that not what a lady did, keep smiling no matter what the tragedy?

“Don’t — don’t want to write a song, Mother? Well, that’s all right. I’m sure Lynn won’t mind,” Angelique babbled.

“Oh, it’s not that I don’t want to … it would … it would be wonderful,” Claire sighed, which made no sense to Angelique, but she nodded anyway. “It’s just … well, I can’t.”

“Sure you could.”

“Your father would never permit it.”

“He doesn’t have to know!” Angelique snapped, for a moment forgetting she was talking to her mother, and not Clarice who found her behind the bushes, kissing a messenger boy. “I mean — I mean, we don’t have to tell him. It could be between you and Lynn and I.”

“Not — not tell him?” Claire asked, looking down again, her brows furrowed in puzzlement.

“Why not?”

“That doesn’t — wouldn’t he know?”

“How? If we don’t tell him?”

Claire frowned. “There is a lot,” she murmured, “that he doesn’t seem to know …” Her eyes began to light up again. “I could –”

They went dead.

“No, Angelique, it wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t …” Claire blushed and stared at her feet. “I don’t know — how to write music. Not just to make music, but how to write it.”

Strangely enough, Angelique understood. She had written many a song during her youth, only to find out that it was all wrong after showing it to her music instructor. “You mean you don’t know the theory?”

Claire nodded.

“Well, that’s easy to fix. You can take music lessons with me!”

A gasp and Claire took a step back. “Oh, no!”

“No? Why not?”

“I — I couldn’t. How could I?”

“I’m sure Master Forte wouldn’t mind! I mean, as long as …” Angelique hesitated, would the nunnery be willing to pay for two sets of music lessons? How could she pay for it if they were not, for surely her father would never foot the bill for it.

I’ll find a way.

“Well, Master Forte is such a nice man, I’m sure he’d do it just to be kind,” Angelique lied.

“But Angelique — I’m a grown woman.”

“So? So am I — well, almost.”

“But music isn’t for grown women, unless you’re in the …” Claire’s voice trailed away.

“Why not? You have a gift, Mother! Aren’t we to make use of our gifts?” she replied, tasting bile coming up with Mother Julian’s words, but spitting them out all the same. They ought to be useful for something, other than forcing Angelique to sing hymn after boring hymn.

“I still … I don’t know … surely Mother Julian never would …”

Mother Julian, oh, don’t start with that! “Mother Julian will if she doesn’t want to — want to –” Want to have me run screaming from the nunnery — buck-naked! She tried to take music from me, but she won’t take it from my real mother!

“I will what if I don’t want to … what?”

 Angelique squeaked.

“Oh, Mother!” Claire gasped. “Oh, oh, Mother Julian! I’m so sorry! She didn’t mean anything by it!” Claire’s hands were on Angelique’s shoulders, gripping them, forcing them to shake as her arms shook.

“Mother, Mother, it’s all right!” Angelique hissed, not, perhaps, sure what “it” was, but knowing that there was no reason for Claire to fear Mother Julian.

“Didn’t mean anything by what?”

Angelique looked at Claire, white and trembling — at Mother Julian, one eyebrow raised, but otherwise calm — and grabbed Claire’s hand and brought her forward. “Mother Julian,” Angelique said, and stopped.

“Yes?”

“Mother Julian, I was wondering — could Mother share my music lessons?”

“Angelique!” Claire gasped.

“I’m sure you’ve heard her,” Angelique continued, doing her best to smile. “Playing, I mean. On the piano. She’s awfully good, isn’t she?”

“Er, indeed, but I don’t see …”

“And if she had lessons, formal training, then what she would write would be even better!”

Mother Julian turned her head a little to one side. “I don’t think I follow. She’s good, so you want to give her lessons?”

“Oh, Angelique, this was a bad idea!”

“Nonsense, Mother! Of course lessons would help, Mother Julian,” Angelique replied. “She’s got natural talent, but no formal training. She can pick out a good melody, but she doesn’t know the rules of music — do you understand?”

“I — you mean, then, that there are rules to the composition of music?”

“Of course!”

“Er … all right …”

“So then you’ll let her do it?”

“I’m — not sure,” Mother Julian replied. Before Angelique could protest, she turned to Claire. “Lady Claire, is this what you want?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to presume!”

“Nonsense. It would barely cost anything to pay for another set of music lessons. But is this what you want?”

“Surely, surely it wouldn’t be allowed?”

Mother Julian shrugged. “Allowed by whom? Your husband? He doesn’t have to know. Lady Morgan might have to say something …”

That Morgan le Fay!

“… but, honestly, I don’t know if she would object. Perhaps, if it makes you happy, she would encourage it. She’s the closest thing we have to an expert, and I’m willing to listen to her.”

“If it — makes me happy?”

“Of course. That’s the point of having you hear, isn’t it? To help you be happy again.”

“Happy,” Claire murmured. “But — but wouldn’t I be remiss in my duties?” she whispered.

“By being happy?” Mother Julian gasped.

“No — at least — I don’t think so — but … but by taking so much time …?”

“You mean by taking some time for yourself? Well, I know I was always a better mother to Margery — Sister Margery — when I had some time to read and study, to make time for myself.”

Hmm. Maybe being a nun, and having no time for herself now, is what makes her such a shrew!

“So — so it might be allowed?”

“As long as Lady Morgan approves it, I don’t have a problem with it. But is this what you want, Lady Claire?”

Claire said nothing. But slowly, like a lily coming to its fullest bloom, she smiled.

And Angelique could no longer contain herself, and threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Oh, Mother! We’re going to have the best time!”

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14 thoughts on “Music Oft Hath Such a Charm

  1. These lessons are going to be great for Claire, I just know it! 😀

    And I can’t wait to see the look on Bors’s stupid face when Claire’s music is played at the wedding 🙂

    Haha, Angelique sure is enterprising. Shame that the candy seller’s son’s mouth didn’t actually taste like candy, though. Maybe Galahad’s mouth tastes like candy? 😉

    Nun life is definitely not good for Angelique, but maybe Claire’s presence will make whatever’s left of it more tolerable for her.

    • I think they will be good for her too, Van. At the very least, she’ll get a chance to not only do something she enjoys, but also learn how to do it better. It’s a win-win situation for everybody.

      I don’t know if Bors would know instantly if it was Claire’s music — but maybe if he saw Lynn getting worked up, he’d guess. Dunno about that though. We shall have to see. 🙂

      Galahad’s mouth probably does taste like candy! He probably needs a steady stream of sugar to keep his energy level up. 😉 He’s not quite what I’d call hyper, but he definitely does have a bit more of a tendency to bounce off the walls than most other people his age.

      And yeah, hopefully being around Claire will make like a little better for Angelique. Hopefully, being around each other will make life better for both of them.

  2. Awwww. Angelique is being awesome. 🙂 I like how she’s not ready to role over and play dead just because Bors or even Mother Julian says so.

    And she’s got a point, Bors is pretty clueless, anyone with a want for, heck anyone who was fit for being in the nunnery wouldn’t be making out with shop boys to get sweets to bribe kids.

    I doubt Morgan would say a thing. She was all for Claire composing. And I think it would be awesome if Claire could compose something for Lynn’s wedding. (It’d be more awesome if Claire could/would take credit for it and hack Sir Man-dress off. But meh, just hacking him off would make ME happy…)

    • I think, out of all the de Ganis girls, Angelique got the most of Bors’s … spirit, for lack of a better word. Or perhaps pigheadedness is the best word. (Then again, Clarice has a fair portion of pigheadedness too … though who knows how Evette will turn out.) In any case, even if she doesn’t know how to go into battle the way Bors does, it doesn’t necessarily occur to her not to fight, one way or another.

      Nobody has to argue with the fact that Bors is clueless. Nobody at all. 😉

      Morgan would absolutely be all for Claire composing — the only thing she would worry about would be Claire not getting along with the teacher, which, you know, could set her back a bit. So Morgan would probably insist on going to the first couple lessons and keeping an eye on how Claire is developing.

      I think, you know, Claire just might compose something for the wedding … just because it’s so awesome. 🙂

  3. Well, Angelique, a) good girl! and b) Mother Julien is a bit shrewish to you because you can be kind of a brat, hon. And also you’re bartering kisses for bribe materials, so I have this suspicion that teaching you to be a nun kind of gets Mother Julien’s wimple in a twist. But ahh, teenagers.

    So, quick question. Is Bors tone deaf or something similar? Or does he just have some psychological block in place against non-church-based music? Suffer a nasty concussion at any point? (You can explain a lot with ‘brain damage.’) Because if he’s hearing noise, not music, all the time, he’s got to have something preventing him from that.

    I am beyond glad that Claire is feeling better. I’m a little worried that she’s still sort of assuming that everything she wants will be denied her on the basis that she’s not supposed to be happy, but with any luck, that will fade. (And if one of the de Ganis women happens to voluntarily decide to take the veil, I suspect Claire would be happier with it than Angelique.)

    • Indeed, Hat — ah, teenagers!

      Besides, no matter how much of a shrew Mother Julian can be at times, she’s not a cruel woman. And she pretty much hinted at what some of her personality problems are in this post — mainly, she became a nun so that she could study and learn things, and ended up being saddled with the whole damn nunnery (all two-and-a-half nuns of it, herself included. Oh, and … eight, going on ten, brothel babies?). I guess it reminds me of something that Lothere brings up in the Kingdom of Lothere — people who are unhappy tend to make other people around them unhappy.

      … You know, the idea of Bors being tone-deaf would actually be a really fun one to pursue. *makes note to look up tone-deafness* He may have been socialized to accept music in certain situations (church, marching tunes, dances, his daughters’ education), but beyond that he just can’t handle it. It would illustrate just how fundamentally incompatible Claire and Bors are, even if it took them a while to realize that.

      I think Claire would be a lot happier in the nunnery than Angelique would, definitely. She’s been a mom and had her kids, and she certainly wouldn’t feel like she was missing anything on the sex front. (Remember who her one sexual partner was … and now that I write that, I feel incredibly depressed …) But I think it would also depend on when she considered taking the veil. To get out of the marriage? I think, once she’s in a psychologically healthy enough place for someone to suggest/her to consider this, she’d do it. But if Bors were to, say, die before she did … I don’t know if she’d necessarily go for it in that case.

      As for Claire assuming everything she wants will be denied, I think that’s on Morgan’s list of things to work on. 🙂 It’s not been so long, story-wise, since Claire was removed to the nunnery. I think Morgan’s going to concentrate first on making Claire happy, or at least not so sad, and then teach her that happiness is hers to grasp … if that’s what she wants.

      • Unhappy people making those around them unhappy is not limited to Lothere, alas. And Mother Julien is doing her level best, it’s just there’s a buttload to be done (specifically with the surrendered children) and the bulk of it is on her shoulders. It’s quite possible the lot of them are a bit stressed out because there’s just so much to be done and not enough hands to do it all. Industriousness is a virtue?

        Tone deafness generally means that someone can’t hear themselves– can’t carry a tune in a bucket with a friend to help hold it up– but there are plenty of people who can’t parse certain kinds of music as musical, due to unfamiliarity, cultural or personal expectations, personal preference, and sometimes things just grate on one person’s ears. Mom, for example, can’t stand constant repetition of short musical phrases. The themes from Jaws and the Twilight Zone set her teeth on edge, and when she asks, “What’s techno?” the answer is, “You wouldn’t like it.” So if Bors can understand that a march is to set the pace of… um, marching, and a dance is something similar (it’s all about moving bodies in the appropriate pattern), and lifting voices in praise is… well, he doesn’t have to like it as long as Wright does, after all. … Maybe he can tune it out if it’s repetitive? Pick up the beat and ignore the rest, which isn’t possible to do while someone is picking out a new tune or playing something with periodic tempo changes.

        If the veil is an escape route from a hostile marriage, then being widowed is a game over and she doesn’t have to play anymore. If the veil isn’t just an escape from Bors but a chance to have her music, to teach the surrendered girls music (maybe not the theory, but to sing, to play, to harmonize), a chance to have the autonomy to quietly dedicate herself to things that help her and help– or uplift– others… that’s a whole other story. She could see what’s being done at the abbey and decide she wants to be a part of it.

        Now, see, I don’t know if making Claire happy is a workable goal, myself. You can’t be happy all the time, and Claire has plenty to be heartbroken, miserable, frightened, and downright angry about. Getting stable, on the other hand, getting stable would be very good for her– getting that nice breather and having a chance to really level out, to the point where she can feel hopeful without sighing and deciding that whatever she was hoping for will be denied. She also needs a good shot of self esteem– just enough for her to realize that she’s worthy of courtesy and respect as a lady, if not as a person, even from her husband. She might never be able to face that it was Bors who failed being a spouse at every turn, not her, but she might be able to accept that Bors is far too… oh, let’s just say far too Borslike to realize that he can hurt people emotionally– that an emotional hurt could be in any way a serious hurt, even to a child– much less that he does. (Even much less that he does it constantly, and to his own family.) She doesn’t have to blame him or hate him (more than she already does, but it’s the hate of a kicked dog– not wanting to be near him but too loyal to bite his leg), but it would do her a world of good to realize that, no matter how much power he might have over her, he’s not always right, even if he wins the argument.

        • Lol, industriousness had better be a virtue, or else Mother Julian et al. are going to have a lot to answer for? “Why weren’t you praying all that time?” 😉

          Hmm, I think it makes more sense that Bors would have problem picking up on certain types of music as, well, musical, when you put it that way. It’s certainly not a problem that would be unique to him. (Indeed, I think it tends to strike everyone with teenage kids — “What IS that racket? It’s not music!”) And someone trying to pick out a new melody would be extremely annoying to him. He’d much rather have a finished piece of music, one that he recognizes and can tap his feet to. Not something that someone is always going back and changing things on. Then he’s hearing repetition that isn’t quite repetition, and it makes no sense to him and thus drives him up a wall.

          I think, at the moment, that Claire would only be able to see the veil as an escape from Bors. I don’t think she’s stable enough yet to begin to process the idea that she might want to join the nunnery for herself. And considering how fragile Claire still is, I think Mother Julian would be very, very hesitant about allowing her to take vows. If it’s a question of “either she takes vows or has to go home and will permanently go ’round the bend,” then Mother Julian might … unbend. But if she could be reasonably certain that Bors would be more careful with Claire, or that Claire was strong and stable enough to handle Bors when she went back, then I think she would play the wait-and-see game.

          Clearly, however, that will not be happening this round, for Claire is nowhere near stable enough to make that kind of decision.

          Hmm, when you put the problem like that … well, it’s going to take a while, that’s for certain. And Morgan will not be all that keen on “giving up” and realizing that she can only help Claire so much. Should be interesting to watch.

  4. It just touches my heart to learn about Claire. I really do hope she’s on the way to recovery now. It’s sad, really, to know that she never had any time to herself, to do what she likes most, just to relax or something because BORS didn’t allow it. He’s such a …..!!! Seriously. Dump him in the river and let him drown. Anyways, I’m glad that mother and daughter are re-united! 🙂

    • I think Claire really is on the road to recovery. It will take time and lots of it, of course, but she’s taken the first step — and she’s in a position to keep taking steps, since she’s AWAY from that dumbass husband of hers.

      I think the main problem is that Claire is an artist at heart, and Bors doesn’t get that. I don’t think he understands artists, period; he probably thinks they can only be men (women are only good for making babies and possibly rearing them), and certainly not noble people. Being an artist is something peasants and merchants do. He doesn’t have a passion like Claire does, and he has very limited imagination, so he can’t put himself into her shoes. Or anyone else’s shoes, for that matter.

      And it is nice to see Claire & Angelique back together again. Thanks for reading!

  5. This is going to be good for Lady Claire and Angelique. I think spending time together will perk them both up. I just hope no one see Angelique perking up as a sign that she should become a full nun!

    I’m totally snickering over Angelique making out with an icky boy to get bribery sweets.

    I could be wrong here…but if I remember right from one of my cook books, sweetmeats is meat…and I think it’s some kind of icky guts. (shudder)

    I’ve been watching a lot of WWII documentaries lately. These last few chapters with Bors being openly hostile to Claire in front of company while she cowers or wails, ripping out her piano strings, talking down to the queen….he reminds me of the Nazis!

    I play the piano and I feel for Claire. After 9 years without a piano in my home or having a way to get one someone told me I could use their keyboard. Electric keyboards are not the same by a longshot, but I figured it was better than nothing. In excitement I dug out my box of piano books. I brought over the books I wanted to practice with first. Then I discovered this awful keyboard had keys a different size from a piano. If I were to play it I would have to relearn everything for the different sized keys. (I play without looking at my fingers.) It would also ruin what I had learned if I practiced on it – so I wouldn’t be able to play an actual piano. I couldn’t use it. I cried and cried like a little kid. It just broke my heart ot have that ripped from me. But to have the piano be the last leg your standing on….and someone to do that to you intentionally….and worse knowing that if she had it fixed he would do it again…. That is devastating. I would have crumpled to the floor and I’m not depressed!

    • As for Angelique’s future, well, we’ll just have to wait and see about that. But being with her mother is making her a little happier, at least in the short run, and Claire is feeling better for being with Angelique. 🙂

      Hmm. According to a quick Google search (looking at Wikipedia and Merriam-Webster), “sweetmeat” does mean candy. But if you scroll down the page a bit and click on the Wikibooks link … sweetmeat = testicles.

      *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*

      I think from now on, when I mean candy, I’ll say candy.

      Aww, I’m so sorry to hear about your keyboard experience! 😦 That just sucks, especially after getting your hopes up so high.

      And Claire went through something … well, yeah, I’d say it was worse, just because, as you pointed out, she was extremely depressed at the time. And she knew that what had been done had been done on purpose. No wonder she had a mental breakdown. 😦

      Thanks, Chicklet.

  6. That is really funny. I remember sweetmeats being something yucky in a cookbook…but that is real bad. Makes me wonder how it got to be the name for both testicles and candy. Then again…maybe I don’t want to know!

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