She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. ‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. Melusine, used to the stark surroundings of the convent at Blaye, had no complaint to make. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. She dismissed the idea of doing so. “I know nothing about your wife.
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