“She was the High Priestess who turned me in Greece, before Rome. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’ ‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. Why not kill her here, and leave silently, the way he must have come? Could it be that he had not the intention to kill her? En tout cas, it gave her a chance. I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets. He dared not go on.
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