Go in, go in, Melusine prayed, hoping desperately that he would not change his mind and take another route. Even in her hatred, she began to realize that Sebastian’s intelligence was much greater than Gianfrancesco’s. Always remember that. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone.
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