She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. Clergymen were human. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. Oh, don't worry. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. She became as The Tigress, a free thing.
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