For the first time she looked upon him, smiling delight - until the name he'd given registered, and her smile froze. Then it began to melt, fading from her small mouth which was still slightly darkened from the press of his kisses, and she stared at him anew.<br/><br/>The feathered mask trembled like a frightened bird in her hand, and fell unnoticed to the grass beside his feet.<br/><br/>"No," she whispered, that single soft word last with mournful pleading. "No, you're not- you cannot be a Murnau. Milord....?" Her eyes flicked back and forth between one and the other of his own, searching for some sign that this was a cruel sort of joke that he was playing upon her.