They have desires, hopes, plans, secrets. And they wear them on their faces, like maquillage.”
“And die, as a result?”
“Of course. Death is a secret, like any other.”
She touched a hand to her cheek, and smoothed it back.
“Tell me, Yashim, what did you make of our friend Monsieur Gautier?”
“‘Everything that is beautiful is useless,’” Yashim quoted. “It seemed insincere.”
“Very silly,” the valide agreed. “It could have been written by one of our girls.”
“If any of them knew how to write,” Yashim pointed out.
“Or understood French, Yashim.”
Вы читаете An Evil eye
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