Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. She looked upon it with pity as she drank his diabetic blood and saw that several of his fingers were missing. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. ’ ‘But what age are you? Do you not require an heir?’ Melusine asked, her tone shocked. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. It was just upon the stroke of nine as he entered the Lodge, and Mr.
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