Любовник леди Чаттерлей
Chapter 17
Hewasaregulargondolierinawhite-and-blueblouse,notverygood-looking,notatallimpressive.
’Yes!TheVillaEsmeralda!Yes!Iknowit!Ihavebeenthegondolierforagentlemanthere.Butafairdistanceout!’
Heseemedaratherchildish,impetuousfellow.Herowedwithacertainexaggeratedimpetuosity,throughthedarkside-canalswiththehorrible,slimygreenwalls,thecanalsthatgothroughthepoorerquarters,wherethewashinghangshighuponropes,andthereisaslight,orstrong,odourofsewage.
Butatlasthecametooneoftheopencanalswithpavementoneitherside,andloopingbridges,thatrunstraight,atright-anglestotheGrandCanal.Thetwowomensatunderthelittleawning,themanwasperchedabove,behindthem.
’ArethesignorinestayinglongattheVillaEsmeralda?’heasked,rowingeasy,andwipinghisperspiringfacewithawhite-and-bluehandkerchief.
’Sometwentydays:wearebothmarriedladies,’saidHilda,inhercurioushushedvoice,thatmadeherItaliansoundsoforeign.
’Ah!Twentydays!’saidtheman.Therewasapause.Afterwhichheasked:’DothesignorewantagondolierforthetwentydaysorsothattheywillstayattheVillaEsmeralda?Orbytheday,orbytheweek?’
ConnieandHildaconsidered.InVenice,itisalwayspreferabletohaveone’sowngondola,asitispreferabletohaveone’sowncaronland.
’WhatisthereattheVilla?whatboats?’
’Thereisamotor-launch,alsoagondola.But--’Thebutmeant:theywon’tbeyourproperty.
’Howmuchdoyoucharge?’
Itwasaboutthirtyshillingsaday,ortenpoundsaweek.
