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Hergesheimer, Joseph, 1880-1954

"Cytherea"


Directly below, shadowy trees hid the stone margin of the bay, and an
enormous tripod, such as might be used for removing the cargoes of
ships, raised its primitive simplicity. "Look, Lee!" Savina laid a hand
on his wrist. A steamer, incredibly large and near, was moving slowly
out through the narrow channel to the sea. Rows of golden lights shone
on its decks and from the port-holes, and a drift of music reached him.
"Some day soon," she went on, "we'll take a boat like that, and go--
where? It doesn't matter: to a far strange land. Hills scented with tea
flowers. Streets with lacquered houses. Villages with silver bells hung
along the eaves. Valleys of primroses under mountains of ice. We'll see
them all from little windows, and then it will be night. But,
principally, we will never go back--never! never! never! We will be
together for years. Let's go to the hotel now; Lee. I am rather tired;
it's the heat, don't you think? I am worn, and, because I am so happy,
a trifle dizzy. Not much. Nothing to worry about. But I only want you,
Lee; in my heart I don't care for the valleys and bells and scents."
Yet, before they reached the hotel they stopped, Savina insisted, for
cocktails of Bacardi rum, fragrant with fresh limes and sweet with a
crust of sugar that remained at the bottoms of the glasses. In the
night--their beds were separated by the width of the balcony doors--she
called for him, acute with fright.


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