It’s made up of things as small as the diameter of hairs and big as life and death. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. Softly she rose to her feet. They say it hasn't been opened for eight years—but I won't be eight years in getting out of it. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached.
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