. "Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt in a savage tone. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. The Bach Cantata was played fairly well, Sebastian thought, for a lot of children. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. But here the resemblance stopped. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life.
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