’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. ’ Melusine’s eyes flashed. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him.
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