Books > Old Books > The Plumed Serpent (1926)


Page 441

CHAPTER XXVI - Kate is a Wife

against the pale, unlit water. How dark he was! Dark as a Malay. Curious that his body was as dark, almost, as his face. And with that strange archaic fulness of physique, with the full chest and the full, yet beautiful buttocks of men on old Greek coins.
He dropped off the edge of masonry and waded out in the dim, soft, uncanny water. And at that moment the light tipped over the edge of the mountain and spilled gold upon the surface of the lake. And instantly he was red as fire. The sunshine was not red, the sun was too high for that. It was golden with morning. But as it flushed along the surface of the lake it caught the body of Cipriano and he was red as fire, as a piece of pure fire.
The Sons of the Morning! The column of blood! A Red Indian. She looked at him in wonder, as he moved pure red and luminous further into the lake, unconscious. As if on fire!
The Sons of the Morning! She let her effort at knowing slip away from her once more, and remained without effort, within the communion.
It was his race, too. She had noticed before how the natives shone pure red when morning or evening light caught them, rather level. As fires they stood in the water. The Red Indian.
He went away, with his man, on horseback. And she watched him ride over the brow of the road, sitting dark and still on his silky, roan horse. He loved a red horse. And there was a curious motionlessness about him as he rode horseback, an old, male pride, and at the same time the half-ghostly, dark invisibility of the Indian, sitting close upon the horse as if he and it belonged to one birth.
He was gone, and for awhile she felt the old nostalgia for his presence. Not for him, exactly. Not even to see him or touch him or speak to him. Only to feel him about.
Then quickly she recovered. She adjusted herself to the presence he left behind with her. As soon as he had really gone, and the act of going was over, his presence came back to her.
She walked a little while by the shore, beyond the breakwater wall. She loved to be alone: a great deal alone, with a garden and the lake and the morning.
`I am like Teresa, really,' she said to herself.
Suddenly before her she saw a long, dark soft rope, lying

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE against what is pale, unlit water. How dark he was! Dark as a Malay. Curious that his body was as dark, almost, as his face. And with that strange archaic fulness of physique, with what is full chest and what is full, yet beautiful buttocks of men on old Greek coins. He dropped off what is edge of masonry and waded out in what is dim, soft, uncanny water. And at that moment what is light tipped over what is edge of what is mountain and spilled gold upon what is surface of what is lake. And instantly he was red as fire. what is sunshine was not red, what is sun was too high for that. It was golden with morning. But as it flushed along what is surface of what is lake it caught what is body of Cipriano and he was red as fire, as a piece of pure fire. what is Sons of what is Morning! what is column of blood! A Red Indian. She looked at him in wonder, as he moved pure red and luminous further into what is lake, unconscious. As if on fire! what is Sons of what is Morning! She 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 441 where is center where is strong CHAPTER XXVI - Kate is a Wife where is p align="justify" against what is pale, unlit water. How dark he was! Dark as a Malay. Curious that his body was as dark, almost, as his face. And with that strange archaic fulness of physique, with what is full chest and what is full, yet beautiful buttocks of men on old Greek coins. He dropped off what is edge of masonry and waded out in what is dim, soft, uncanny water. And at that moment what is light tipped over what is edge of what is mountain and spilled gold upon what is surface of what is lake. And instantly he was red as fire. what is sunshine was not red, the sun was too high for that. It was golden with morning. But as it flushed along what is surface of what is lake it caught what is body of Cipriano and he was red as fire, as a piece of pure fire. what is Sons of what is Morning! what is column of blood! A Red Indian. She looked at him in wonder, as he moved pure red and luminous further into what is lake, unconscious. As if on fire! what is Sons of what is Morning! She let her effort at knowing slip away from her once more, and remained without effort, within what is communion. It was his race, too. She had noticed before how what is natives shone pure red when morning or evening light caught them, rather level. As fires they stood in what is water. what is Red Indian. He went away, with his man, on horseback. And she watched him ride over what is brow of what is road, sitting dark and still on his silky, roan horse. He loved a red horse. And there was a curious motionlessness about him as he rode horseback, an old, male pride, and at what is same time what is half-ghostly, dark invisibility of the Indian, sitting close upon what is horse as if he and it belonged to one birth. He was gone, and for awhile she felt what is old nostalgia for his presence. Not for him, exactly. Not even to see him or touch him or speak to him. Only to feel him about. Then quickly she recovered. She adjusted herself to what is presence he left behind with her. As soon as he had really gone, and the act of going was over, his presence came back to her. She walked a little while by what is shore, beyond what is breakwater wall. She loved to be alone: a great deal alone, with a garden and what is lake and what is morning. `I am like Teresa, really,' she said to herself. Suddenly before her she saw a long, dark soft rope, lying where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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