Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. You've saved my life. My wife—killed me. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. Michelle awoke suddenly, violently. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you.
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