Why were you following Valade?’ She shrugged and turned away, moving as if to seek escape among the bookshelves all about one corner of the room. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. How would he act when he learned that it had vanished? She gathered up the manuscripts and restored them to the envelope.
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