Today's Stichomancy for David Bowie

"Certainly, my friend," replied Philip. The outlaw, dismounting, called upon one of his squires for parch- ment, and, by the light of a torch, wrote a message to Bertrade de Montfort.

Half an hour later a servant in the castle of Battel handed the missive to the daughter of Leicester as she sat alone in her apartment. Opening it, she read:

To Lady Bertrade de Montfort, from her friend Norman of Torn.

Two years have passed since you took the hand of the Outlaw of Torn in friendship, and now he comes to

The Outlaw of Torn

answer, nodding confidentially.

Frau Lehmann's bad time was approaching. Anna and her friends referred to it as her "journey to Rome," and Sabina longed to ask questions, yet, being ashamed of her ignorance, was silent, trying to puzzle it out for herself. She knew practically nothing except that the Frau had a baby inside her, which had to come out--very painful indeed. One could not have one without a husband--that she also realised. But what had the man got to do with it? So she wondered as she sat mending tea towels in the evening, head bent over her work, light shining on her brown curls. Birth--what was it? wondered Sabina. Death--such a simple thing. She had a little picture of her dead grandmother dressed in a black silk frock, tired hands clasping

folded, and Loo the Unicorn reclined, much as a horse does, between his fellow-councillors. With one consent they remained silent, eyeing with steadfast looks the intruders, who were making their way into their forest domain.

"Well met, Brothers!" said one of the strange beasts, coming to a halt beside the group, while his comrade with hesitation lagged behind.

"We are not brothers," returned the Gray Ape, sternly. "Who are you, and how came you in the forest of Gugu?"

"We are two Li-Mon-Eags," said Ruggedo, inventing the name. "Our home is in Sky Island, and we have come to earth to warn the forest beasts that the people of Oz are about to make war upon them and

The Magic of Oz

joys, which were all the more exquisite because they arose from the midst of remorse, of terrible struggles with herself, of a /No/ persuaded to be /Yes/. At every moment she seemed to come across the pool of bitter water found in a desert, and drunk with greater relish than the traveler would find in sipping the finest wines at a prince's table.

When Dinah wondered to herself at midnight:

"Will he come home, or will he not?" she was not alive again till she heard the familiar sound of Lousteau's boots, and his well-known ring at the bell.

She would often try to restrain him by giving him pleasure; she would

The Muse of the Department