The Governor looked at them and the perfect harmony of their movements – as though they were being coordinated by a single device, as well as the proportions of their bodies, as if they had been cast by the same mould – left him feeling excluded, brutally so.
On the other side of the hall, the Prince of Cleve, who was still standing, kept his eyes fixed on his wife’s agile feet as they ran around to who knew where. The suspicion of adultery was far from his mind. He was looking at the tiny golden shoes, which barely touched the ground as they moved, and he felt the distance between them grow wider, a nocturnal separation, immeasurable. It didn’t matter much that they were kept contained by the frame provided by the club’s dancehall, which was richly decorated with fanciful stuccos.
The d
