Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. He had to know the truth, Melusine. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. Try and consider me your elder brother, or an old family friend, whichever you like best. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims.
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