Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. “All the time he is shouting and muttering. “Just leave them with me for now, Clotilde. ‘I am done, Gérard.
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