Get the pole out of your ass. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. She could not speak. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. He encouraged her to join him in his debauchery. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun.
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