32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. White,” the lady in black satin remarked. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men. You know how those Russian students do? In Russia. The helicopter lifted from her hand and hovered in the air.
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