Ночь нежна

Chapter 1

           Herfineforeheadslopedgentlyuptowhereherhair,borderingitlikeanarmorialshield,burstintolovelocksandwavesandcurlicuesofashblondeandgold.Hereyeswerebright,big,clear,wet,andshining,thecolorofhercheekswasreal,breakingclosetothesurfacefromthestrongyoungpumpofherheart.Herbodyhovereddelicatelyonthelastedgeofchildhoodshewasalmosteighteen,nearlycomplete,butthedewwasstillonher.

           Asseaandskyappearedbelowtheminathin,hotlinethemothersaid:

           "Somethingtellsmewe’renotgoingtolikethisplace."

           "Iwanttogohomeanyhow,"thegirlanswered.

           Theybothspokecheerfullybutwereobviouslywithoutdirectionandboredbythefactmoreover,justanydirectionwouldnotdo.Theywantedhighexcitement,notfromthenecessityofstimulatingjadednervesbutwiththeavidityofprize-winningschoolchildrenwhodeservedtheirvacations.

           "We’llstaythreedaysandthengohome.I’llwirerightawayforsteamertickets."

           AtthehotelthegirlmadethereservationinidiomaticbutratherflatFrench,likesomethingremembered.WhentheywereinstalledonthegroundfloorshewalkedintotheglareoftheFrenchwindowsandoutafewstepsontothestoneverandathatranthelengthofthehotel.Whenshewalkedshecarriedherselflikeaballet-dancer,notslumpeddownonherhipsbutheldupinthesmallofherback.Outtherethehotlightclippedclosehershadowandsheretreateditwastoobrighttosee.FiftyyardsawaytheMediterraneanyieldedupitspigments,momentbymoment,tothebrutalsunshine;belowthebalustradeafadedBuickcookedonthehoteldrive.

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