Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. I shall start at the bottom. ‘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. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. One transgression; he was sure of that.
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