My guest follows me from the ball room and we leave it to its fond and distant memories of gayer times. I stand at the foot of the stairs and wait a moment as Randall’s eyes sweep this great and beautiful chamber like a child’s in a sweet shop. I tune myself into his mind,
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My Guest Arrives Ah, the sound of carriage wheels against cobbles, finally my guest arrives. Putting down my first edition volume of “Wake Not The Dead” by Johann Ludwig Tieck, I rise from my chair and cross to the window. Far below me in the courtyard I see a young man alight from my ancestral
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