‘Vague images of grief and tragedy flickered in his mind. Somewhere a butterfly was flying out to sea, lost: La Fontaine’s duck had loved the white hen, yet after escaping together from the dreadful farmyard through the forest to the lake it was the duck that swam: the hen following drowned.'
"It is dawn in Regents Park. A fresh wind blows from the canal. All is silent, apart from the oriental birds in the zoo, calling to each other in strange voices. The moon is full and translucent, and rests low in the western sky.