’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. " "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were.
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