’ Lucilla gaped. In Paris, in July, a raging mob had stormed the Bastille, provoking circumspect aristocrats to uproot themselves and take refuge abroad. Then we find out. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. He glanced up at the coachman. Hugging him in the beautiful dress in front of the teenagers was strangely soothing to her.
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