Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. ‘Why not a French flag?’ ‘Because I don’t believe that fool Pottiswick could tell French from Arabic, even if he heard it as he says he did—which I take leave to doubt. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death.
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