Then Mr. Gosse had come to Blaye, so he had said, feeling it his duty as the vicomte’s erstwhile secretary to deliver the fateful tidings, bringing with him one of the servant girls, Yolande, who had also escaped the fury of the mob. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. He is the one who has said that she must go to the convent. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. She found presently she was out of the dock and confronted with the alternative of being bound over in one surety for the sum of forty pounds— whatever that might mean or a month’s imprisonment. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright.
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