His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades. And not on Melusine’s account, but to see Prudence, who had no use for a cavalier. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. She was nestled under his bedspread.
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