‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left. Then a surge of rage welled up. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. In an instant, she turned on him. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. Everyone has gone away again, so that I can do so all alone. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. You have been her guardian angel.
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