he gave them the candles, and taking the censer, moved slowly away from them.
Leo Tolstoy. Anna Karenina (Translated by Constance Garnett)
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the censers would burn that she might appear like an angel amid the fumes of the sweet-smelling odours.
Gustave Flaubert. Madame Bovary
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But the Duc’s heart is fainting within him. He is not, however, as you suppose, dizzy with magnificence, nor drunk with the ecstatic breath of those innumerable censers.
Edgar Allan Poe. The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 4: The Duc de L'Omelette (1832)