Wednesday, 18 March 2009

Garmash Sleeping Beauty

Garmash Sleeping BeautyMarc Chagall The Wedding CandlesMarc Chagall The Cattle DealerMarc Chagall Lovers in the MoonlightMarc Chagall Le Champ de Mars
are lost, aren't we?' said Tomjon, after a while.
'Certainly not.'
'Where are we, then?'
'The mountains. Perfectly clear on any atlas.'
'We ought to stop and ask someone.'
Tomjon gazed around at the rolling countryside. Somewhere a lonely curlew howled, or possibly it was a badger – Hwel was a little hazy about rural matters, at least those that took place higher than about the limestone layer. There wasn't another human being within miles.
'Who did you have in mind?' he said sarcastically.
'That old woman in the funny hat,' said Tomjon, pointing. 'I've been watching her. She keeps ducking down behind a bush when she thinks I've seen her.'
Hwel 'What about my poor old heart?' said Granny, who wasn't used to acting like an old woman and had a very limited repertoire in this area. But it's traditional that young heirs seeking their destiny get help from mysterious old women gathering wood, and she wasn't about to buck tradition.
'It's just that you mentioned it,' said Hwel.
'Well, it isn't important. Lawks. I expect you're looking for Lancre,' said Granny testily, in a hurry to get to the point.turned and looked down at a bramble bush, which wobbled.'Ho there, good mother,' he said.The bush sprouted an indignant head.'Whose mother?' it said.Hwel hesitated. 'Just a figure of speech, Mrs . . . Miss . . .''Mistress,' snapped Granny Weatherwax. 'And I'm a poor old woman gathering wood,' she added defiantly.She cleared her throat. 'Lawks,' she went on. 'You did give me a fright, young master. My poor old heart.'There was silence from the carts. Then Tomjon said, 'I'm sorry?''What?' said Granny.'Your poor old heart what?'

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