“What did it matter?” she cried. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. She brought the unconscious man down. ” “You are jealous,” she declared contemptuously. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. And he, her lawful husband, dared not go to her and console her! Accursed—all of them— Enschede, Ruth, and himself. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done.
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