Alphonse Maria Mucha Spring

Alphonse Maria Mucha SpringAlphonse Maria Mucha JOBAlphonse Maria Mucha GismondaPierre Auguste Renoir The UmbrellasPierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneuses
will be magnificent. Too big, but - magnificent,' said Dios. He looked out between the pillars at the necropolic panorama on the far bank of the Djel.
'Magnificent,' he repeated. He winced once more at the stab of pain in his leg. Ah. He'd have to cross the river again tonight, 'I exist only to serve.'
Teppic joined him on the balcony. The early evening sun glowed on a man-made mountain range. This was only the central massif; the pyramids stretched from the delta all the way up to the second cataract, where the Djel disappeared into the mountains. And the pyramids occupied the best land, near the river. Even the farmers would have considered it sacrilegious to suggest anything different. no doubt of it. He'd been foolish, putting it off for days. But it would be unthinkable not to be in a position to serve the kingdom properly. 'Something wrong, Dios?' said Teppic. 'Sire?' 'You looked a bit pale, I thought.' A look of panic flickered over Dios's wrinkled features. He pulled himself upright. 'I assure you, sire, I am in the best of health. The best of health, sire!' 'You don't think you've been overdoing it, do you?' This time there was no mistaking the expression of terror. 'Overdoing what, sire?' 'You're always bustling, Dios. First one up, last one to bed. You should take it easy.' 'I exist only to serve, sire,' said Dios, firmly.