He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied.
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