The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. ‘Lay him down on a sofa,’ Melusine said, coming out behind them and moving towards the antechamber. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. I’m behaving shockingly, I know. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad.
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