And night and distant rumbling; now the army’s

carrier-train was moving out, to war.

He looked up from the harpsichord, and as

he went on playing, he looked across at her

almost as one might gaze into a mirror:

so deeply was her every feature filled

with his young features, which bore his pain and were

more beautiful and seductive with each sound.

Then, suddenly, the image broke apart.

She stood, as though distracted, near the window

and felt the violent drum-beats of her heart.

His playing stopped. From outside, a fresh wind blew.

And strangely alien on the mirror-table

stood the black shako with its ivory skull.