As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. It was the largest room in the house, which was why it had been given over to the main business of the convent as a house of God. At the Palazzo, the cook’s cook had a team of servants under him. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. You won’t settle and I’m going mad.
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