” His voice rose and fell amidst the music and the singing of Tristan and King Mark, like a voice heard in a badly connected telephone. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. ” There was silence between them. “It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly.
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