‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. The Frenchman was already being followed. Still no sound. It was a huge stone placed there by some workmen occupied in repairing the structure. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. You see, my riddle is solved. He continued thoughtfully. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him.
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