A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. For a moment O'Higgins had hoped that the ink applications would be recent. “Believe what, Michelle?” Lucy asked. ’ ‘But I have still a dagger,’ Melusine warned. Anything that might stir the sense of love And God has mocked me through it all.
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