Pierre Auguste Renoir Sleeping Bather paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Seating Girl paintingPierre Auguste Renoir By the Water painting
When he could rise she turned away, and the magician followed her, wary of the oak, though it was once again as still as any tree that had never loved. The sky was still black, but it was a watery darkness through which Schmendrick could see the violet dawn swimming. Hard silver clouds were melting as the sky grew warm; shadows dulled, sounds lost their shape, and shapes had not yet decided what they were going to be that day. Even the wind wondered about itself.
"Did you see me?" he asked the unicorn. "Were you watching, did you see what I made?"
"Yes," she answered. "It was true magic."
The loss came back, cold and bitter as a sword. "It's gone now," he said. "I had it—it had me—but it's gone now. I couldn't hold it." The unicorn floated on before him, silent as a feather.
Close by, a familiar voice said, "Leaving us so early, magician? The men will be sorry they missed you." He turned and saw Molly Grue leaning against a tree. Dress and dirty hair tattered alike, bare feet bleeding and beslimed, she gave him a bat's grin. "Surprise," she said. "It's Maid Marian."
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