Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own. He refused. Maggot. Racing, he reached it perhaps a moment or two later. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. "You are a physician; you know the vagaries of men in liquor.
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