Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic. Jests are not for seasons like this. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. I’ve had enough of it. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her. ” “But it’s on condition one doesn’t do anything.
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