‘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. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. You can test it out on us this Thanksgiving Sunday. A remittance man. She stabbed him with her canines. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. And the sergeant, having carried out all Melusine’s instructions as if they had come out of his own head, went up to check on his patient, apparently at last convinced that his prisoner would not attempt to run away. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets.
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