’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. 1. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. Melusine sighed with relief and set to work by the light of the lantern. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love.
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