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.

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