’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. ‘For your messenger was obliged instead to come and find Hilary, and it has given me the opportunity to meet you. I want to get away—to go to London.
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