What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. Melusine turned to look at the walls, and saw, immediately opposite, set between two candelabra above a marquetry side table, a gilded mirror. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. It never has had. “There is a secret. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. ” She fumbled with her keys and opened the front door.
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