Caravaggio Taking of Christ paintingCaravaggio The Incredulity of Saint Thomas paintingArthur Hughes La Belle Dame Sans Merci painting
No. And I won't tell you any more dreams if you're going to turn them into something ugly." The fact was, I suspected Max had guessed more of that particular fiasco than I cared for him to know. Several times I'd seen his face grow thoughtful as I wound my silver watch: no doubt he thought I'd stolen it from Lady Creamhair (which was more nastily human, the concept or the suspicion?) and in his teasing spiteful way had concocted this cynical dream-theory for the purpose of trapping me into some confession.
I drove my tines deep into the hay. The way Max watched annoyed me further: meekly, warily, yet stubbornly, as if expecting violence -- as ifinviting it. I pitched more than was necessary into the crib.
"Flunk thispsychology of yours!" I cried. "Can't anything I do be just innocent?"
The retort caught me with my fork poised -- at shoulder-height! -- to drive again into the hay. I leaned upon it instead (for though I'd learned to stand and even work erect without assistance, I was never to walk far unsupported), and, blushing briskly, made some apology. I was to report in mornings to come more heinous dreams (indeed, once I'd
