“Yes, I believe he is. 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. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. Where is Sebastianus? I am Rhea. ” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips. "I'll fetch it. ” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile. Bring in his comrade," he added, in a whisper to Charcam; "I'll take care of him. ” “Yes.
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