Martin came to the stage from his section, his own violin in hand. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. ‘A man who is false, who steals papers, who has a plot to take another’s name, who lies to the Mother Abbess and to me, and above all this—’ her voice near to breaking ‘—one who is French. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. "I'm too well acquainted with your proceedings, Madam, to believe that. Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately obtained, he did not despair of success.
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