She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. Martha had grumbled at being obliged to report the matter to Mother Josephine, who had decreed that Melusine must confess to Father Saint-Simon. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. "He has escaped!" exclaimed the knight; "we have searched every corner of the house without finding a trace of him. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. We must always move on. He declined supper, but took wine.
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