“Hola, Michelle. ’ Melusine bit her lip. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. “It will spoil your life. The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind.
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