’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. ‘Alors, what advantages?’ ‘But think,’ he said earnestly, moving a little closer. "You should be glad to be made an honest woman. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. “I do,” he answered. But he was always forcing her to say and do such unexpectedly conclusive things. Do not imagine that I cannot do so, as well as I can this Gérard.
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