’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. A riding-habit is all I have seen.
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