Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. Suspicion was in his face. “I believe so. She had a political cartoon from 1785 that showed a tall man in a cape, a caricature of a French politico that looked suspiciously like him. ‘Your niece, ma’am. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. The whole place and everything in it aimed at one thing—to illustrate, to elaborate, to criticise and illuminate, and make ever plainer and plainer the significance of animal and vegetable structure. ’ Le Petit Journal said that the man was dead. After the twins were past the toddling age, Clotilde finally caught on when the children cleaved to Lucia’s breast when it was time to leave for a fortnight abroad. But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds.
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