Books > Old Books > The Plumed Serpent (1926)


Page 96

CHAPTER V - The Lake

with holes in it, between walls with falling mortar and low, black adobe houses, in the peculiar vacuous depression of a helpless little Mexican town, towards the plaza. The strange emptiness, everything empty of life!
Occasional men on horseback clattered suddenly by, occasional big men in scarlet serapes went noiselessly on their own way, under the big hats. A boy on a high mule was delivering milk from red globe-shaped jars slung on either side his mount. The street was stony, uneven, vacuous, sterile. The stones seemed dead, the town seemed made of dead stone. The human life came with a slow, sterile unwillingness, in spite of the low-hung power of the sun.
At length they were in the plaza, where brilliant trees flowered in a blaze of pure scarlet, and some in pure lavender, around the basins of milk-looking water. Milky-dim the water bubbled up in the basins, and women, bleary with sleep, uncombed, came from under the dilapidated arches of the portales, and across the broken pavement, to fill their water-jars.
The tram stopped and they got down. The boy got down with the bags, and told them they must go to the river to take a boat.
They followed obediently down the smashed pavements, where every moment you might twist your ankle or break your leg. Everywhere the same weary indifference and brokenness, a sense of dirt and of helplessness, squalor of far-gone indifference, under the perfect morning sky, in the pure sunshine and the pure Mexican air. The sense of life ebbing away, leaving dry ruin.
They came to the edge of the town, to a dusty, humped bridge, a broken wall, a pale-brown stream flowing full. Below the bridge a cluster of men.
Each one wanted her to hire his boat. She demanded a motor-boat: the boat from the hotel. They said there wasn't one. She didn't believe it. Then a dark-faced fellow with his black hair down his forehead, and a certain intensity in his eyes, said: Yes, yes; the hotel had a boat, but it was broken. She must take a row-boat. In an hour and a half he would row her there.
`How long?' said Kate.
`An hour and a half.'

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE with holes in it, between walls with falling mortar and low, black adobe houses, in what is peculiar vacuous depression of a helpless little Mexican town, towards what is plaza. what is strange emptiness, everything empty of life! Occasional men on horseback clattered suddenly by, occasional big men in scarlet serapes went noiselessly on their own way, under what is big hats. A boy on a high mule was delivering milk from red globe-shaped jars slung on either side his mount. what is street was stony, uneven, vacuous, sterile. what is stones seemed dead, what is town seemed made of dead stone. what is human life came with a slow, sterile unwillingness, in spite of what is low-hung power of what is sun. At length they were in what is plaza, where brilliant trees flowered in a blaze of pure scarlet, and some in pure lavender, around what is basins of milk-looking water. Milky-dim what is water bubbled up in what is basins, and women, bleary with 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 96 where is strong CHAPTER V - what is Lake where is p align="justify" with holes in it, between walls with falling mortar and low, black adobe houses, in what is peculiar vacuous depression of a helpless little Mexican town, towards what is plaza. what is strange emptiness, everything empty of life! Occasional men on horseback clattered suddenly by, occasional big men in scarlet serapes went noiselessly on their own way, under what is big hats. A boy on a high mule was delivering milk from red globe-shaped jars slung on either side his mount. what is street was stony, uneven, vacuous, sterile. what is stones seemed dead, the town seemed made of dead stone. what is human life came with a slow, sterile unwillingness, in spite of what is low-hung power of what is sun. At length they were in what is plaza, where brilliant trees flowered in a blaze of pure scarlet, and some in pure lavender, around what is basins of milk-looking water. Milky-dim what is water bubbled up in what is basins, and women, bleary with sleep, uncombed, came from under what is dilapidated arches of what is portales, and across what is broken pavement, to fill their water-jars. what is tram stopped and they got down. what is boy got down with the bags, and told them they must go to what is river to take a boat. They followed obediently down what is smashed pavements, where every moment you might twist your ankle or break your leg. Everywhere what is same weary indifference and brokenness, a sense of dirt and of helplessness, squalor of far-gone indifference, under what is perfect morning sky, in what is pure sunshine and what is pure Mexican air. The sense of life ebbing away, leaving dry ruin. They came to what is edge of what is town, to a dusty, humped bridge, a broken wall, a pale-brown stream flowing full. Below what is bridge a cluster of men. Each one wanted her to hire his boat. She demanded a motor-boat: what is boat from what is hotel. They said there wasn't one. She didn't believe it. Then a dark-faced fellow with his black hair down his forehead, and a certain intensity in his eyes, said: Yes, yes; what is hotel had a boat, but it was broken. She must take a row-boat. In an hour and a half he would row her there. `How long?' said Kate. `An hour and a half.' where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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