Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. One of your arms shall be drawn to one side of the room, and the other arm to the other side, and your legs shall be served in the like manner. I have never wept since that day.
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