They then took off their boots, and crept stealthily up stairs, treading upon the point of their toes so cautiously, that not a board creaked beneath their weight. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. And for me there is only one treasure-house. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. And it had not shocked her! It was this appalling absence of indignation that had put terror into her heart. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy.
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