‘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. Diable. If they had any idea the concerts he had seen, they would have known the quality of her playing. They did not have to wait long. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream.
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