They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside.
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