Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. "Thank you; but I've a pocket full of water-chestnuts. Then he was surrounded by black-clad nuns, and Melusine felt an unknown hand grab away her own sword. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. .
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