207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. ’ ‘Merci, Gérard,’ Melusine muttered under her breath, adding aloud, ‘And the major, he will also wish that you let me go to see Jacques. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. ” “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.
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