And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful. His progress, however, was checked by loud acclamations, announcing the arrival of the Master of the Mint and his train. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. ‘My God!’ he said, ‘I’ll go after them and kill him. Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War.
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