Henri Matisse The Painter's Family

Henri Matisse The Painter's FamilyHenri Matisse The Blue WindowHenri Matisse Spanish Still LifeHenri Matisse Moroccan Landscape
opened the curtains. Sunlight poured in. Vimes groaned and sat up slowly in what remained of his bed.
'Good grief, man,' he mumbled. 'What sort of time d'you call this?'
'Almost nine in the morning, sir,' said the butler.
'Nine in the ?'
'I get nervous if people hold blades near my face,' said Vimes. 'But if you harness the horse and cart I'll try and get to the other end of the bathroom.'
'Very amusing, sir.'
Vimes had another bath, just for the novelty of it. He was aware from a general background noise that the mansion was busily humming towards W-hour. Lady Sybil was devoting to her wedding all the directness morning? What sort of time is that to get up? I don't normally get up until the afternoon's got the shine worn off!''But sir is not at work any more, sir.'Vimes looked down at the tangle of sheets and blankets. They were wrapped around Ms legs and knotted together. Then he remembered the dream.He'd been walking around the city.Well, maybe not so much a dream as a memory. After all, he walked the city every night. Some part of him wasn't giving up; some part of Vimes was learning to be a civilian, but an old part was marching, no, proceeding to a different beat. He'd thought the place seemed deserted and harder to walk through than usual.'Does sir wish me to shave him or will sir do it himself