Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. ’ ‘Prudence,’ repeated Gerald unguardedly. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Was not Gerald altogether on her side? He was, even though he played games like an imbecile, a person tout à fait sympathique as she had discovered at the outset. Do you know anything of his friends? Is there any one for whom we ought to send?” “I know very little of him beyond his name,” Anna answered. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room.
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