’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas.
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