Books > Old Books > The Plumed Serpent (1926)


Page 55

CHAPTER III - Fortieth Birthday

She was a widow, and a lonely woman now. Having married young, her two children were grown up. The boy was twentyone, and her daughter nineteen. They stayed chiefly with their father, from whom she had been divorced ten years before, in order to marry James Joachim Leslie. Now Leslie was dead, and all that half of life was over.
She climbed up to the flat roofs of the hotel. It was a brilliant morning, and for once, under the blue sky of the distance, Popocatepetl stood aloof, a heavy giant presence under heaven, with a cape of snow. And rolling a long dark roll of smoke like a serpent.
Ixtaccihuatl, the White Woman, glittered and seemed near, but the other mountain, Popocatepetl, stood farther back, and in shadow, a pure cone of atmospheric shadow, with glinting flashes of snow. There they were, the two monsters, watching gigantically and terribly over their lofty, bloody cradle of men, the Valley of Mexico. Alien, ponderous, the white-hung mountains seemed to emit a deep purring sound, too deep for the ear to hear, and yet audible on the blood, a sound of dread. There was no soaring or uplift or exaltation, as there is in the snowy mountains of Europe. Rather a ponderous, white-shouldered weight, pressing terribly on the earth, and murmuring like two watchful lions.
Superficially, Mexico might be all right: with its suburbs of villas, its central fine streets, its thousands of motor-cars, its tennis, and its bridge-parties. The sun shone brilliantly every day, and big bright flowers stood out from the trees. It was a holiday.
Until you were alone with it. And then the undertone was like the low, angry, snarling purring of some jaguar spotted with night. There was a ponderous, down-pressing weight upon the spirit: the great folds of the dragon of the Aztecs, the dragon of the Toltecs winding around one and weighing down the soul. And on the bright sunshine was a dark steam of an angry, impotent blood, and the flowers seemed to have their roots in spilt blood. The spirit of place was cruel, down-dragging, destructive.
Kate could so well understand the Mexican who had said to her: El grito mexicano es siempre el grito del odio - The Mexican shout is always a shout of hate. The famous revolutions,

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE She was a widow, and a lonely woman now. Having married young, her two children were grown up. what is boy was twentyone, and her daughter nineteen. They stayed chiefly with their father, from whom she had been divorced ten years before, in order to marry James Joachim Leslie. Now Leslie was dead, and all that half of life was over. She climbed up to what is flat roofs of what is hotel. It was a brilliant morning, and for once, under what is blue sky of what is distance, Popocatepetl stood aloof, a heavy giant presence under heaven, with a cape of snow. And rolling a long dark roll of smoke like a serpent. Ixtaccihuatl, what is White Woman, glittered and seemed near, but what is other mountain, Popocatepetl, stood farther back, and in shadow, a pure cone of atmospheric shadow, with glinting flashes of snow. There they were, what is two big s, watching gigantically and terribly over their lofty, bloody cradle of men, where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Plumed Serpent (1926) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 55 where is strong CHAPTER III - Fortieth Birthday where is p align="justify" She was a widow, and a lonely woman now. Having married young, her two children were grown up. what is boy was twentyone, and her daughter nineteen. They stayed chiefly with their father, from whom she had been divorced ten years before, in order to marry James Joachim Leslie. Now Leslie was dead, and all that half of life was over. She climbed up to what is flat roofs of what is hotel. It was a brilliant morning, and for once, under what is blue sky of what is distance, Popocatepetl stood aloof, a heavy giant presence under heaven, with a cape of snow. And rolling a long dark roll of smoke like a serpent. Ixtaccihuatl, what is White Woman, glittered and seemed near, but what is other mountain, Popocatepetl, stood farther back, and in shadow, a pure cone of atmospheric shadow, with glinting flashes of snow. There they were, what is two big s, watching gigantically and terribly over their lofty, bloody cradle of men, what is Valley of Mexico. Alien, ponderous, what is white-hung mountains seemed to emit a deep purring sound, too deep for what is ear to hear, and yet audible on what is blood, a sound of dread. There was no soaring or uplift or exaltation, as there is in what is snowy mountains of Europe. Rather a ponderous, white-shouldered weight, pressing terribly on what is earth, and murmuring like two watchful lions. Superficially, Mexico might be all right: with its suburbs of villas, its central fine streets, its thousands of motor-cars, its tennis, and its bridge-parties. what is sun shone brilliantly every day, and big bright flowers stood out from what is trees. It was a holiday. Until you were alone with it. And then what is undertone was like what is low, angry, snarling purring of some jaguar spotted with night. There was a ponderous, down-pressing weight upon what is spirit: what is great folds of what is dragon of the Aztecs, what is dragon of what is Toltecs winding around one and weighing down the soul. And on what is bright sunshine was a dark steam of an angry, impotent blood, and what is flowers seemed to have their roots in spilt blood. what is spirit of place was cruel, down-dragging, destructive. Kate could so well understand what is Mexican who had said to her: El grito mexicano es siempre el grito del odio - what is Mexican shout is always a shout of hate. what is famous revolutions, where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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