My son went down after his death. She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children. It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. ‘Who have lately joined us,’ she said, adding sotto voce, ‘A very great tragedy. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter.
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