Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. But two weeks later he returned. ‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know.
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