Jean-Honore Fragonard the lock

Jean-Honore Fragonard the lockJean-Honore Fragonard le jourJean-Honore Fragonard l'aurore
'They'll try to take us alive,' she said.
'Oh,' said Rincewind weakly. 'Good.'
Then he remembered something else about Klatchian slavers, and his throat went dry.
'You'll - you'll be the one they'll really be after,' he said. 'I've heard about what they do-’
'Should I know?' said Conina. To Rincewind's horror she didn't appear to have found a weapon.
'They'll throw you in a seraglio!'
She shrugged. 'Could be worse.'
'But it's got all 'Robe, dress. You better hope they know the difference.'
A hand like a bunch of bananas with rings on grabbed Rincewind's shoulder and spun him around. The captain, a Hublander built on generous bear-like lines, beamed at him through a mass of facial hair.
'Hah!' he said. 'They know not that we aboard these spikes and when they shut the door-’ hazarded Rincewind. The canoes were close enough now to see the determined expressions of the rowers.'That's not a seraglio. That's an Iron Maiden. Don't you know what a seraglio is?''Um ...'She told him. He went crimson.'Anyway, they'll have to capture me first,' said Conina primly. 'It's you who should be worrying.''Why me?''You're the only other one who's wearing a dress.'Rincewind bridled. 'It's a robe-’