I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. . Charcoal, you may bring in the boy. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. I do not intend to allow you to forget. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. He did not disturb any of this litter, but left it as a mark of his prowess. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. ” She paused. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair.
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