Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. “I am going to ask for your forgiveness. Sebastian, too, seemed to be immune, even though cats, dogs, and beasts of the suffered just as the humans did: blackening and dying, their eyes rolling, their bodies covered with bald buboes. She shook her head. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you.
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