In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. ’ Melusine found her tongue. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown.
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