What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. ’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house. Her belly was being touched, she felt her thighs caressed softly.
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