6. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. ‘Come, I am concerned merely for your safety, you know. They are long gone. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart. It was only when they came into a square that daylight had a positive quality. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin.
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