‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. ’ ‘You saw? Where were you? How did you see?’ ‘Your heroic milice are not as clever as they thought. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped.
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