Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. She rose to the fire to stoke it. ” “This,” Anna declared, as she sipped her wine and looked around her, “reminds me more of Paris than any place I have yet seen. It jars with all my ideas. Bring me food, a man, hurry!” She placed the stone back over the crypt to hide the evidence of what she had uncovered. She was perhaps as near tears as ever before in her life. I think that you might break Martin’s heart if you don’t.
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