Berthe Morisot Behind the Blinds painting

Berthe Morisot Behind the Blinds paintingBerthe Morisot The Harbor at Lorient paintingBerthe Morisot The Butterfly Chase painting
hangings began to wriggle open, though there was no one pulling them. "Behold her!" Rukh cried. "Behold the last, the Very End! Behold Elli!"
Inside the cage, it was darker than the evening, and cold stirred behind the bars like a live thing. Something moved in the cold, and the unicorn saw Elli—an old, bony, ragged woman who crouched in the cage rocking and warming herself before a fire that was not there. She lherself in a voice that sounded like a saw going through a tree, and like a tree getting ready to fall.
"What is plucked will grow again, What is slain lives on, What is stolen will remain— What is gone is gone."
"She doesn't look like much, does she?" Rukh asked. "But no hero can stand before her, no god can wrestle her down, no magic can keep her out—or in, for she's no prisoner of ours. Even while we exhibit her here, she is walking among you, touching and taking. For Elli is Old Age."
The cold of the cage reached out to the unicorn, and where-ever it touched her she ooked so frail that the weight of the darkness should have crushed her, and so helpless and alone that the watchers should have rushed forward in pity to free her. Instead, they began to back silently away, for all the world as though Elli were stalking them. But she was not even looking at them. She sat in the dark and creaked a song