He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. “I do mean that,” she declared. It will not cost you more than six hundred to reach your destination. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. As his death was by no means what Jonathan desired, he resolved to remove him to a more airy ward, and afford him such slight comforts as might tend to his restoration, or at least keep him alive until the period of execution. 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.
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