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’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension. "One of us has got to die," he panted. For a nun at night it is less dangerous than for the jeune demoiselle. He was in a position to help her. The door leaned inward.
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