32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. . He really deserves a better fate, does he not? He is so beautifully persistent. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her.
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