Those Who Must Be Kept are in peace, or in silence," he would say as he took the red velvet cloak from his shoulders. "More than that we may never know."
And to the feast again, the stalking of the evildoer through the alleys of Venice, he and the Master would go.
How long might it have continued --through one mortal lifetime? Through a hundred?
Not a half year in this dark bliss before the evening at twilight when the Master stood over his coffin in the deep cellar just above the water, and said:
"Rise, Armand, we must leave here. They have come!"
"But who are they, Master? Is it Those Who Must Be Kept?" "No, my darling. It is the others. Come, we must hurry!" "But how can they hurt us? Why must we go?"
The white faces at the windows, the pounding at the doors. Glass shattering. The
