Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. He gently took the roses from her and laid them on the pillow. Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother.
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