She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. After the twins were past the toddling age, Clotilde finally caught on when the children cleaved to Lucia’s breast when it was time to leave for a fortnight abroad. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. We were expecting rather to find a male antagonist. Good-bye, aunt. I do not understand why you and your sister should not see more of one another.
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