You look utterly lovely.

Vows are made. No-one breathes as we watch the agony of the rings.

A deal is done, a tsunami of hope from those here present.

You fuss over that fold in your dress. (It was me who helped you into that silk nothingness and kissed each breast in turn.)

You exchange face-masks. Was there ever a gesture so intimate?

The cautious laughter, the final words, the scratch of the pen.

Suddenly proud, he allows himself a swagger.

My rapier finds his right kidney. He falls. I throw you across my saddle and ride away.