’ Gerald eyed her with interest. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts. "Very well," said Rachel, with a toss of her pretty head, "very well. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. It’s artificially chance. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. That is what my mother used to call me. Charvill’s fury was burning out. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you.
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