His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. An iron fillet secured the socket of the bolt and the box of the lock to the main post of the doorway. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie.
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