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The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. He laughed to hide his uneasiness. ’ ‘Melusine,’ shrieked the nun. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. ‘What do you want with me? Why did you catch me?’ ‘You intrigue me,’ he told her frankly. ’ Oh, do they? No kitchen service? No feeding of pigs? It was evident that this woman knew nothing of nuns, if a certain young lady’s artless reminiscences were anything to go by. But it is no longer necessary. ” Lucy put the back of her hand to Michelle’s forehead.
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