“N... o, perhaps not,” she consented doubtfully. The underglow of amusement in her eyes shone nearer to the surface. “But--but they can never know, either, the despair of the singer when his songs won't come.” “Or when the ladies are pitiless. That is true,” consented Peter. “And meanwhile they get the bread, crumbs,” she said. “They certainly get the bread-crumbs,” he admitted. “I 'm afraid “--she smiled, as one who has conducted a syllogism safely to its conclusion--“I 'm afraid I do not think your compensation compensates.” “To be quite honest, I daresay it does n't,” he confessed. “And anyhow”--she followed her victory up--“I should not wish my garden to represent the universal war. I should not wish my garden to be a battle-field. I should wish it to be a retreat from the battle--an abode of peace--a happy valley--a sanctuary for the snatched-from.” “But why distress one's soul with wishes that are vain?” asked he. “What could one do?” “One could keep a dragon,” she answered promptly. “If I were you, I should keep a sparrow-devouring, finch-respecting dragon.” “It would do no good,” said he. “You'd get rid of one species of snatcher, but some other species of snatcher would instantly pop UP.” She gazed at him with those amused eyes of hers, and still again, slowly, sorrowfully, shook her head. “Oh, your spectacles are black--black,” she murmured. “I hope not,” said he; “but such as they are, they show me the inevitable conditions of our planet. The snatcher, here below, is ubiquitous and eternal--as ubiquitous, as eternal, as the force of gravitation. He is likewise protean. Banish him--he takes half a minute to change his visible form, and returns au galop. Sometimes he's an ugly little cacophonous brown sparrow; sometimes he's a splendid florid money-lender, or an aproned and obsequious greengrocer, or a trusted friend, hearty and familiar. But he 's always there; and he's always--if you don't mind the vernacular--'on the snatch.'” The Duchessa arched her eyebrows. “If things are really at such a sorry pass,” she said, “I will commend my former proposal to you with increased confidence. You should keep a dragon. After all, you only wish to protect your garden; and that”--she embraced it with her glance--“is not so very big. You could teach your dragon, if you procured one of an intelligent breed, to devour greengrocers, trusted friends, and even moneylenders too (tough though no doubt they are), as well as sparrows.” “Your proposal is a surrender to my contention,” said Peter. “You would set a snatcher to catch the snatchers. Other heights in other lives, perhaps. But in the dark backward and abysm of space to which our lives are confined, the snatcher is indigenous and inexpugnable.”