‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it. They sat down at the dining room table which seemed empty and 259 huge in the stark, white-walled room. Gay. But it is my fault. Then he was surrounded by black-clad nuns, and Melusine felt an unknown hand grab away her own sword. I—I hurt myself.
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