’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. Gosse had come to Blaye, so he had said, feeling it his duty as the vicomte’s erstwhile secretary to deliver the fateful tidings, bringing with him one of the servant girls, Yolande, who had also escaped the fury of the mob. My only love is for my poor lost son. Never did I need a rescue so much. But luncheon and dinners you will sit at my table. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ” “I think I am. ’ She shook her head. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed.
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