When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm. . But, you see, she HAS to lie up. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. “Act three.
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