"Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. In the early hours of the morning, unable to bear the suspense any longer, Melusine had ventured to explore the mansion, the lantern she had brought in hand, commenting to herself all the time on the state of the place and the difficulties of her task, and having no idea of the consequences she was bringing on herself thereby.
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