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Summary
Having lived for decades and seen all kinds of beautiful ladies in various eras, Morde thought that the woman in the portrait must have been even more beautiful in life than in the painting. But this was just a fleeting glance, just a look back from the living at the past. How could such a fleeting moment of fascination, built upon countless "justs," drive Morde to disregard all the dangers Spider had described? Had there never been a woman, never anyone, in his knowledgeable life who had made his heart skip a beat? Morde, this elderly gentleman with one foot already in the grave and time having left its marks on his thin face, felt an emotion he could not understand when he first saw the noblewoman's portrait revealed as the red cloth was lifted:
I must meet her, no matter the cost.