Arthur Hughes Ophelia

Arthur Hughes OpheliaArthur Hughes April LoveAlbert Bierstadt The Buffalo TrailAlbert Bierstadt The Shore of the Turquoise SeaDante Gabriel Rossetti Paolo and Francesca
What kind of noise, Ksandra? said the Bursar, as kindly as he could.
‘Please, sir, sort of-’ she screwed up her eyes, ‘ "whumm . . . whumm . . . whumm . . . whumm . . . whummwhummwhumm WHUMMWHUMM - plib", sir.’
‘Plib,’ said the Bursar, solemnly.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Hplib,’ added.
‘I really couldn’t say, Master. I thought perhaps you’d know. I believe Riktor was a lecturer here when you were a student. Mrs Whitlow is very concerned’, he added, in tones that made it clear that when Mrs Whitlow was concerned about something it would be an unwise Archchancellor who ignored her, ‘about staff being magically interfered with.’ echoed Mrs Whitlow. ‘That was when it spat at me, sir,’ said Ksandra. ‘Hexpectorated,’ corrected Mrs Whitlow. ‘Apparently one of the elephants spat out a little lead pellet, Master,’ said the Bursar. ‘That was the, er, the "plib",’ ‘Did it, bigods,’ said the Archchancellor. ‘Can’t have pots going around gobbin’ all over people.’ Mrs Whitlow twitched. ‘What’d it go and do that for?’ Ridcully