Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor. ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls. Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house.
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