Межзвёздный скиталец
Chapter 11
AndskipIshall,alloftheafternoon’sevents,alloftherideoutsidethewalls,ofthegrandfêtegivenbyHughdeMeung,ofthefeastingandthedrinkinginwhichItooklittlepart.OnlyoftheendoftheadventurewillIwrite,whichbeginswithwhereIstoodjestingwithPhilippaherself—ah,dearGod,shewaswondrousbeautiful.Agreatlady—ay,butbeforethat,andafterthat,andalways,awoman.
Welaughedandjestedlightlyenough,asaboutusjostledthemerrythrong;butunderourjestingwasthedeepearnestnessofmanandwomanwelladvancedacrossthethresholdofloveandyetnottoosureeachoftheother.Ishallnotdescribeher.Shewassmall,exquisitelyslender—butthere,Iamdescribingher.Inbrief,shewastheonewomanintheworldforme,andlittleIreckedthelongarmofthatgrayoldmaninRomecouldreachouthalfacrossEuropebetweenmywomanandme.
AndtheItalian,Fortini,leanedtomyshoulderandwhispered:
“Onewhodesirestospeak.”
“Onewhomustwaitmypleasure,”Iansweredshortly.
“Iwaitnoman’spleasure,”washisequallyshortreply.
And,whilemybloodboiled,Irememberedthepriest,Martinelli,andthegrayoldmanatRome.Thethingwasclear.Itwasdeliberate.Itwasthelongarm.
