She told us that it was a disguise. He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. Then a roar of hisses. ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. And there arose too, a background of shouts. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. I warned her not to say a word, for it would mean the death of everyone in the Palazzo, including you. That is what my mother used to call me. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. A broken laugh followed the action. “You shall,” she said.
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