That was Leonardo’s motto. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. “Soon she will return.
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