During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. ‘There is Bernadette, Marie-Thérèse, Marie-Joséphine, Marie-Claire, Henriette—’ Exasperated, Gerald seized her by the shoulders. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, these two must epitomise it. I'll have no such toast drunk at my table!" "It's the king's birthday," urged the woollen draper.
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