‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. At the Palazzo she had been confined to her own sunny windowed quarters most of the time, but she had the entire run of the inside of the manor. ‘I am not a person, Marthe. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire.
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