John Collier A Devonshire Orchard

John Collier A Devonshire OrchardCao Yong Red UmbrellaCao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIESCao Yong Freedom
with squares of deep shadow.
Magrat ran from It couldn’t have been done from life. In the days of this
queen, the only paint known locally was a sort of blue, and
generally used on the body But a few generations ago King
Lully I had been a bit of a historian and a romantic. He’d
researched what was known of the early days of Lancre, and light to shade, light to shade, down the endless room. Monarch after monarch flashed past, like a speeded-up film. King after king, all whiskers and crowns and beards. Queen after queen, all corsages and stiff bodices and Lappet-faced wowhawks and small dogs and—Some shape, some trick of moonlight, some expression on a painted face somehow cut through her terror and caught her eye.That was a portrait she’d never seen before. She’d never walked down this far. The idiot vapidity of the assembled queens had depressed her. But this one . . .This one, somehow, reached out to her.She stopped.