linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. Melusine tapped on it. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. Then his beard was of a reddish hue, and his complexion warm and sanguine. How perfectly charming. I pity her from the bottom of my heart.
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