‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid.
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