Her fingers rested upon his. It was a duel, you understand, and that is not permitted. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it. “Okay.
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