It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk. ‘Don’t tell me. Plots were hatched in the provinces, where many of the old and wealthy Catholic families resided, whose zeal for the martyr of their religion (as the Chevalier was esteemed), sharpened by the persecutions they themselves endured, rendered them hearty and efficient allies.
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