Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. ‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. ’ ‘But you must. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. “I made two fruit pies and now I have no one to eat them. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love. ” “It would be very kind of you,” she declared. . He remained listening attentively.
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