‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. Thinks they’re the same as soldiers. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering.
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