Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. I cannot live without you, Anna. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. ’ ‘It is you who is absurd,’ countered Melusine, the spark returning to her eye. My letters are returned unopened, her maid will not even allow me across the doorstep. He did not move. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything.
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