The title had formerly been held by Gianfrancesco’s brother, Alessia, now dead of plague. Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable.
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