She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. Michelle briskly made introductions and then joined the fray of conversations. ’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. Melusine cursed herself for his injury.
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