Books > Old Books > The Plumed Serpent (1926)


Page 57

CHAPTER III - Fortieth Birthday

Now the bright page was turned, and the dark page lay before her. How could one write on a page so profoundly black?
She went down, having promised to go and see the frescoes in the university and schools. Owen and Villiers and a young Mexican were waiting for her. They set off through the busy streets of the town, where automobiles and the little omnibuses called camione.r run wild, and where the natives in white cotton clothes and sandals and big hats linger like heavy ghosts in the street, among the bourgeoisie, the young ladies in pale pink crepe de chine and high heels, the men in little shoes and American straw hats. A continual bustle in the glitter of sunshine.
Crossing the great shadeless plaza in front of the Cathedral, where the tram-cars gather as in a corral, and slide away down their various streets, Kate lingered again to look at the things spread for sale on the pavement: the little toys, the painted gourd-shells, brilliant in a kind of lacquer, the novedades from Germany, the fruits, the flowers. And the natives squatting with their wares, large-limbed, silent, handsome men looking up with their black, centreless eyes, speaking so softly, and lifting with small sensitive brown hands the little toys they had so carefully made and painted. A strange gentle appeal and wistfulness, strange male voices, so deep, yet so quiet and gentle. Or the women, the small quick women in their blue reboZ.o,r, looking up quickly with dark eyes, and speaking in their quick, coaxing voices. The man just setting out his oranges, wiping them with a cloth so carefully, almost tenderly, and piling them in bright tiny pyramids, all neat and exquisite. A certain sensitive tenderness of the heavy blood, a certain chirping charm of the bird-like women, so still and tender with a budlike femininity. And at the same time, the dirty clothes, and the unwashed skin, the lice, and the peculiar hollow glint of the black eyes, at once so fearsome and so appealing.
Kate knew the Italian fruit vendors, vigorously polishing their oranges on their coat-sleeves. Such a contrast, the big, handsome Indian, sitting so soft and as it were lonely by the kerb, softly, lingeringly polishing his yellow oranges to a clean gleam, and lingeringly, delicately arranging the little piles, the pyramids for two or three cents each.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE Now what is bright page was turned, and what is dark page lay before her. How could one write on a page so profoundly black? She went down, having promised to go and see what is frescoes in what is university and schools. Owen and Villiers and a young Mexican were waiting for her. They set off through what is busy streets of what is town, where automobiles and what is little omnibuses called camione.r run wild, and where what is natives in white cotton clothes and sandals and big hats linger like heavy ghosts in what is street, among what is bourgeoisie, what is young ladies in pale pink crepe de chine and high heels, what is men in little shoes and American straw hats. A continual bustle in what is glitter of sunshine. Crossing what is great shadeless plaza in front of what is Cathedral, where what is tram-cars gather as in a corral, and slide away down their various streets, Kate lingered again to look at what is things spread for sale on what is pavement 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 57 where is strong CHAPTER III - Fortieth Birthday where is p align="justify" Now what is bright page was turned, and what is dark page lay before her. How could one write on a page so profoundly black? She went down, having promised to go and see what is frescoes in what is university and schools. Owen and Villiers and a young Mexican were waiting for her. They set off through what is busy streets of what is town, where automobiles and what is little omnibuses called camione.r run wild, and where what is natives in white cotton clothes and sandals and big hats linger like heavy ghosts in what is street, among what is bourgeoisie, what is young ladies in pale pink crepe de chine and high heels, what is men in little shoes and American straw hats. A continual bustle in the glitter of sunshine. Crossing what is great shadeless plaza in front of what is Cathedral, where the tram-cars gather as in a corral, and slide away down their various streets, Kate lingered again to look at what is things spread for sale on what is pavement: what is little toys, what is painted gourd-shells, brilliant in a kind of lacquer, what is novedades from Germany, what is fruits, what is flowers. And what is natives squatting with their wares, large-limbed, silent, handsome men looking up with their black, centreless eyes, speaking so softly, and lifting with small sensitive brown hands what is little toys they had so carefully made and painted. A strange gentle appeal and wistfulness, strange male voices, so deep, yet so quiet and gentle. Or what is women, what is small quick women in their blue reboZ.o,r, looking up quickly with dark eyes, and speaking in their quick, coaxing voices. The man just setting out his oranges, wiping them with a cloth so carefully, almost tenderly, and piling them in bright tiny pyramids, all neat and exquisite. A certain sensitive tenderness of what is heavy blood, a certain chirping charm of what is bird-like women, so still and tender with a budlike femininity. And at what is same time, what is dirty clothes, and what is unwashed skin, what is lice, and the peculiar hollow glint of what is black eyes, at once so fearsome and so appealing. Kate knew what is Italian fruit vendors, vigorously polishing their oranges on their coat-sleeves. Such a contrast, what is big, handsome Indian, sitting so soft and as it were lonely by what is kerb, softly, lingeringly polishing his yellow oranges to a clean gleam, and lingeringly, delicately arranging what is little piles, what is pyramids for two or three cents each. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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