"'Baring the left bosom means innocence of heart.'" "Whose bosom?"
"It does not say."
"A woman's, it means. Eh, and a loose woman."
He closed his eyes and lay with his arms behind his head. His cigarette, hardly alight, stuck in the corner of his mouth. He set it straight with his tongue, stretched so that something whistled in his chest, and his enormous face was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. Sometimes I thought he had fallen asleep and I left off reading to examine the accursed book, which bored me to nauseation. But he said hoarsely: "Go on reading!"
"'The venerable one answered, "Look! My dear brother Suvyerin—"'"
"Syevyeverin—"
"It is written Suvyerin."
"Well, that's witchcraft. There is some poetry at the end. Run on from there."
I ran on.
"Profane ones, curious to know our business,
Never will your weak eyes spy it out,
Nor will you learn how the fairies sing."