--You really broke your glasses by accident, didn't you? Nasty Roche asked. Let us meet them with faith and courage, with patience and a grateful and happy heart. A sense of fear of the unknown moved in the heart of his weariness, a fear of symbols and portents, of the hawk-like man whose name he bore soaring out of his captivity on osier-woven wings, of Thoth, the god of writers, writing with a reed upon a tablet and bearing on his narrow ibis head the cusped moon. He was sitting in the narrow breakfast room high up in the old dark-windowed house.
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