“Do you want a glass of wine?” Camille asked as she and Lucien sat in the dark attic, wasting the hours away.
Lucien looked at the corked bottle, sitting on the planked wooden floor, two glasses beside it. He shook his head. “I can’t.”
She watched his response, the battle that consumed him. “I’ll ask Mme. Abadie to bring up some water.” She moved the bottle beside the chimney where he couldn’t see it.
“One glass at dinner was hard enough. I was afraid if I started, I couldn’t stop.”
She felt such compassion, his life almost destroyed. “But you did stop.”
“You don’t know how difficult it was.”
“You’re doing well, Lucien. I’m proud of you.”
He held out his right hand, unable to keep it steady. “I can’t stop trembling.”
She smiled grimly. “I know it isn’t easy.”
“But I am trying real
