’ She shook her head. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. ‘Was this when Nicholas commended you to this Abbess?’ ‘But, yes. 271 His parents suggested that he go into therapy. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. .
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