Alexandre Cabanel Cleopatra

Alexandre Cabanel CleopatraThomas Gainsborough The Watering PlaceThomas Gainsborough The Morning WalkThomas Gainsborough The Harvest WagonThomas Gainsborough Cottage Girl with Dog and Pitcher
Bursar knocked respectfully at the Archchancellor’s door and then opened it.
A crossbow bolt nailed his hat to the woodwork.
The be as calm as that without tremendous effort. ‘You can barely see the hole. Why, er, are you shooting at the door, Master?’
‘Use your common sense, man! It’s dark outside and the damn walls are made of stone. You don’t expect me to shoot at the damn walls?’
‘Ah,’ said the Bursar. ‘The door is, er, five hundred years old, you know,’ he added, with finely-tuned reproach.
‘Looks it,’ said the Archchancellor, bluntly. ‘Damn great black thing. What Archchancellor lowered the bow and glared at him. ‘Bloody dangerous thing to do, wasn’t it?’ he said. ‘You could have caused a nasty accident.’ The Bursar hadn’t got where he was today, or rather where he had been ten seconds ago, which was where a calm and self-assured personality was, rather than where he was now, which was on the verge of a mild heart attack, without a tremendous ability to recover from unexpected upsets. He unpinned his hat from the target chalked on the ancient woodwork. ‘No harm done,’ he said. No voice could