It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. ‘Why did he make me French, Marthe? Why did he give me this name of Melusine, and say I am born of Suzanne Valade?’ Martha looked at her, but her lips remained firmly closed. I must have something in hand. Nowadays, from the looks of it, people were lining up to become vampires. ’ The girl nodded understandingly. "I am so excessively fond of snuff. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones.
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