The tapestries in this room were of the house reflected in the lake, and the tapestries themselves were reflected, in and out, among the mirrors on the wall, with the house in the tapestries reflected in the lake. This room frightened Margaret rather, because it was so difficult for her to tell what was in it and what was not, and how far in any direction she might easily move.

[She] shuddered when the mirror glistened behind her once more . . . The silvery surface was so alive, so much like a lake; she was afraid he might appear and start swimming, that something, or someone, would shimmer out of it.

Elena had jet-black hair, but her face was so pale it looked almost erased; all that remained was the white bow in her hair and a dress with five pleats.

There was something terrifyingly insane about the total breakdown of the place: the utter discrepancy between the majesty and mystery of the monuments and the tininess of all who dwelt around them or came supposedly to gaze upon them.