\"Why don't we wait and see what he does?\" Lucy looked at Michelle readily, her back swinging ever so 36 slightly from side to side as they trudged down the skinny sidewalk. They were going up the slope into Waterloo Station. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. “Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. ‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. ‘Melusine!’ Distracted, Gosse blinked and his eyes flicked away from Melusine’s just as she flung the fullness of her gathered petticoats in the way of his blade. He was speechless. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. ‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father.
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