Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. ’ ‘It is well seen you are not Gérard,’ Melusine said, but thankful now that he was not.
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