‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. Martha was quite right. But the sheer tenacity of the girl defeated him. I would have heard her. I wanted John to be proud to be seen with me. Good-bye. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. ’ She allowed herself to be pulled to the centre of the room, but uttered in a low tone, full of suppressed anxiety, ‘How can he know? How can he know?’ ‘You mean how can he know that this is your house?’ Melusine looked up at him, distress in her eyes.
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