Extract: A Visit to Bedlam.

'With a ha, ha, ha, you will undo me, oh so wild and rude you are,

Yet kind heart I needs must love thee, because thou came…’

A shadow fell over them and both men looked up from their singing. The smile fell from Hugo’s face. There was a middle aged man dressed in a fading blue coat that was frayed at the collar and cuffs. Untamed silver hair, a deeply lined sunburned face, and scuffed boots, with a sneer fixed on his face.

‘This one is too old to be an apprentice even on such a rude instrument,’ the man said in French to Hugo. What have you done to your fingers?’

‘Hullo, Dassoucy,’ said Hugo. ‘What are you doing here? Last I heard you were debauching in Turin.’

Hez noticed the sneer on the man’s face turn into a scowl at the mention of the Italian city.

‘Where is Moliere? I am here to visit upon him.’

‘Does he know you are coming?’

‘Why would that matter?’

‘He may wish to hide the silver.’

‘How very droll. Do you act the clown now your coarse playing is…’ He gestured to Hugo’s bandaged hands. ‘Perhaps Moliere will need a real musician, since you have left him without music and this one has no skill.’

‘He is inside the hotel,’ said Hugo. ‘Have no fear, Dassoucy, my fingers will be fixed before long, and my apprentice has enough talent. I doubt Moliere will need your overcomplicated brand of self indulgence to weigh down our performances.’

‘We shall see.’

They both watched in silence as Dassoucy turned on his heel and entered the hotel through the kitchens to find Moliere.

‘And who was that?’ said Hez as soon as Dassoucy disappeared.

‘That was Dassoucy,’ said Hugo.