Henri Rousseau The Snake Charmer

Henri Rousseau The Snake CharmerHenri Rousseau The DreamPaul Cezanne Mount Sainte Victoire
Door paused at the top of the stairs.
SHE IS LIVING ON BORROWED TIME, he said.

There was an old forge behind the barn. It hadn’t been used for years. But now red and yellow light spilled out into the yard, pulsing like a heart. And like a heart, there was a regular thumping. With every crash the light flared blue.
Miss Flitworth He looked at it blankly.
IT’S JUST AS BLUNT AT NIGHT, MISS FLITWORTH.
Then he slammed it down on the anvil.
AND I CAN’T SHARPEN IT ENOUGH!
‘I think perhaps the heat has got to you,’ she said, and reached out and took his armsidled through the open doorway. If she was the kind of person who would swear, she would have sworn that she made no noise that could possibly be heard above the crackle of the fire and the hammering, but Bill Door spun around in a halfcrouch, holding a curved blade in front of him. ‘It’s me!’He relaxed, or at least moved into a different level of tension.‘What the hell’re you doing?’He looked at the blade in his hands as if he was seeing it for the first time.I THOUGHT I WOULD SHARPEN THIS SCYTHE, MISS FLITWORTH.‘At one o’clock in the morning?’