The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Until this instant, he discovered, he had thought of Melusine’s plan only in a nebulous fashion, a naïve girl’s dream. He took up his hat and went. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. There it is. I demand it as a right.
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