‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. ’ Melusine frowned, placing her hand on the letter lying on the table.
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