Paul Gauguin The White Horse

Paul Gauguin The White HorsePaul Gauguin The SiestaPaul Gauguin Tahitian Women On the BeachPaul Gauguin Still Life with Three Puppies
spent their lives wandering the twisty, uneven and above all many-stepped lanes of Ephebe.
"-eight, nine, ten, eleven," muttered the philosopher, bounding up a pitch-dark flight of steps and haring around a corner.
"Argh, ow, that was my knee," muttered most of the guards, in a heap about halfway up.
One made it to the top, though. By starlight he could just make out the skinny figure, bounding madly along the street. He raised his crossbow. The old fool wasn't even dodging . . .
A perfect target.
There was a twang.
The guard looked puzzled for a moment. The bow toppled from his hands, firing itself as it hit the cobbles and sending its player in other people's lives. Now he was Dervi Ichlos, aged thirtyeight, comparatively blameless in the general scheme of things, and dead.
He raised a hand to his lips uncertainly.
"You're the judge?" he said.bolt ricocheting off a statue. He looked down at the feathered shaft sticking out of his chest, and then at the figure detaching itself from the shadows."Sergeant Simony?" he whispered."I'm sorry," said Simony. "I really am. But the Truth is important."The soldier opened his mouth to give his opinion of the truth and then slumped forward.He opened his eyes.Simony was walking away. Everything looked lighter. It was still dark. But now he could see in the darkness. Everything was shades of gray. And the cobbles under his hand had somehow become a coarse black sand.He looked up.ON YOUR FEET, PRIVATE ICHLOS.He stood up sheepishly. Now he was more than just a soldier, an anonymous figure to chase and be killed and be no more than a shadowy bit-
NOT ME.