Маленькие женщины

Lazy Laurence

           Everyshadowynook,whereseatsinvitedonetostopandrest,wasamassofbloom,everycoolgrottohaditsmarblenymphsmilingfromaveilofflowersandeveryfountainreflectedcrimson,white,orpalepinkroses,leaningdowntosmileattheirownbeauty.Rosescoveredthewallsofthehouse,drapedthecornices,climbedthepillars,andranriotoverthebalustradeofthewideterrace,whenceonelookeddownonthesunnyMediterranean,andthewhite-walledcityonitsshore.

           "Thisisaregularhoneymoonparadise,isn’tit?Didyoueverseesuchroses?"askedAmy,pausingontheterracetoenjoytheview,andaluxuriouswhiffofperfumethatcamewanderingby.

           "No,norfeltsuchthorns,"returnedLaurie,withhisthumbinhismouth,afteravainattempttocaptureasolitaryscarletflowerthatgrewjustbeyondhisreach.

           "Trylowerdown,andpickthosethathavenothorns,"saidAmy,gatheringthreeofthetinycream-coloredonesthatstarredthewallbehindher.Sheputtheminhisbuttonholeasapeaceoffering,andhestoodaminutelookingdownatthemwithacuriousexpression,forintheItalianpartofhisnaturetherewasatouchofsuperstition,andhewasjusttheninthatstateofhalf-sweet,half-bittermelancholy,whenimaginativeyoungmenfindsignificanceintriflesandfoodforromanceeverywhere.HehadthoughtofJoinreachingafterthethornyredrose,forvividflowersbecameher,andshehadoftenwornoneslikethatfromthegreenhouseathome.

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