Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. “Kindly explain it to me. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. I am called Melusine. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart.
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