He was amused. Melusine tried to squash down, still trying to maintain her guard. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. That was something in his favour. Queens and Kings, as always, were made to be manipulated.
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