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’ ‘But you say that I was born here,’ objected Melusine. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. “And then they are swollen up and inflamed and drunken with matter. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. I would not think so of you, Marthe.
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This video was uploaded to ineel.net on 23-06-2024 12:00:00
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