‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. This is a tale of two young fools. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. I am going to take you entirely at your word. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. But she does not resemble you in any other way.
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