’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. The bridesmaids and pages got rather jumbled in the aisle, and she had an effect of Alice’s white back and sloping shoulders and veiled head receding toward the altar. ‘How is your plan now, mon brave?’ Melusine taunted. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself.
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