CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. Her mind left her. Too late she realised that Emile was not trying to escape. All the precious paintings and statues of the divine family were here, as was the enormous wooden crucifix set above the altar. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. Melusine, used to the stark surroundings of the convent at Blaye, had no complaint to make. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock.
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