A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. “Must be hard to find a decent violin teacher these days. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. She spent many days in the castle alone as he busied himself with his alchemy, or traveled to Florence to visit his remaining political connections. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. Anna had told me that he carried always with him this bogus marriage certificate. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. ‘Odds were against it. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried.
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