Read Pleasure for Free Online Page B
Authors: Gabriele D'Annunzio
away until now. So many visits . . . so many calling cards to return . . . The days are tiring. I canât take it anymore. How hot it is here! What a scent!
She was still standing in the middle of the room; slightly hesitant and troubled, although she was talking rapidly and lightly. A mantle of Carmelite fabric 5 with sleeves in the imperial style cut with wide puffs at the top, flattened and buttoned at the wrist, an immense collar of blue fox fur its only embellishment, covered her entire body without diminishing the grace of her slimness. She was looking at Andrea, her eyes full of a tremulous smile that veiled their acute examination. She said:
âYou are somewhat changed. I could not say how. Your mouth, for example, has something bitter about it that I donât recall seeing before.
She said these words with a tone of affectionate familiarity. Her voice resounding in the room gave Andrea such intense delight that he exclaimed:
âSpeak, Elena; speak again!
She laughed. And asked:
âWhy?
He answered, taking her hand:
âYou know why.
She withdrew her hand; and looked the young man deeply in the eyes.
âI donât know anything anymore.
âYouâve changed, then?
âChanged very much.
Already the âsentimentâ was drawing both of them. Elenaâs answer clarified the problem all at once. Andrea understood; and rapidly but with precision, by some phenomenon of intuition that is not rare in certain spirits well exercised in the analysis of their internal being, glimpsed the moral disposition of the visitor and the unfolding of the scene that had to follow. He was, however, already completely invaded by the sorcery of that woman, the way he had once been. Also, his curiosity was pricking him strongly. He said:
âWonât you sit down?
âYes, for a moment.
âThere, on the armchair.
Oh,
my
armchair!
she was about to say with a spontaneous impulse, because she had recognized it; but she stopped herself.
It was a wide, deep chair, covered with an antique leather skin scattered with pale embossed Chimeras, 6 in the same style as one that covers the walls of a room in Palazzo Chigi. The leather had acquired that warm and opulent patina that recalls certain backgrounds of Venetian portraits, or a beautiful bronze that still retains a trace of gilding, or a fine tortoiseshell through which gold leaf glints. A large cushion cut from a dalmatic of a rather faded color, the color that Florentine silk weavers call saffron pink, softened the headrest.
Elena sat down. She placed her right glove on the edge of the tea table, as well as her calling-card case, which was a slender case of smooth silver with two linked garters engraved on it, bearing a motto. Then she took off her veil, lifting her arms to untie the knot behind her head; and the elegant act caused a shining ripple to run through the velvet: at her armpits, along her sleeves, along her bust. As the heat of the fireplace was so strong, she shielded herself with her bare hand, which lit up like rose alabaster: her rings glittered with the gesture. She said:
âCover the fire; please. Itâs burning too strongly.
âDonât you like the flames anymore? And you were once a salamander! This fireplace remembers . . .
âDonât stir up memories, she interrupted. Just cover the fire and light a lamp. Iâll make the tea.
âDonât you want to take off your mantle?
âNo, because I must leave soon. Itâs already late.
âBut you will suffocate.
She rose with a small sign of impatience.
âHelp me, then.
As Andrea took off her mantle, he caught a whiff of her scent. It was not the same as the one she had once worn; but it was so exquisite that it reached his innermost fibers.
âYouâre wearing a new perfume, he said, with a strange tone.
She answered, simply:
âYes. Do you like it?
Andrea, still holding the mantle in his
She was still standing in the middle of the room; slightly hesitant and troubled, although she was talking rapidly and lightly. A mantle of Carmelite fabric 5 with sleeves in the imperial style cut with wide puffs at the top, flattened and buttoned at the wrist, an immense collar of blue fox fur its only embellishment, covered her entire body without diminishing the grace of her slimness. She was looking at Andrea, her eyes full of a tremulous smile that veiled their acute examination. She said:
âYou are somewhat changed. I could not say how. Your mouth, for example, has something bitter about it that I donât recall seeing before.
She said these words with a tone of affectionate familiarity. Her voice resounding in the room gave Andrea such intense delight that he exclaimed:
âSpeak, Elena; speak again!
She laughed. And asked:
âWhy?
He answered, taking her hand:
âYou know why.
She withdrew her hand; and looked the young man deeply in the eyes.
âI donât know anything anymore.
âYouâve changed, then?
âChanged very much.
Already the âsentimentâ was drawing both of them. Elenaâs answer clarified the problem all at once. Andrea understood; and rapidly but with precision, by some phenomenon of intuition that is not rare in certain spirits well exercised in the analysis of their internal being, glimpsed the moral disposition of the visitor and the unfolding of the scene that had to follow. He was, however, already completely invaded by the sorcery of that woman, the way he had once been. Also, his curiosity was pricking him strongly. He said:
âWonât you sit down?
âYes, for a moment.
âThere, on the armchair.
Oh,
my
armchair!
she was about to say with a spontaneous impulse, because she had recognized it; but she stopped herself.
It was a wide, deep chair, covered with an antique leather skin scattered with pale embossed Chimeras, 6 in the same style as one that covers the walls of a room in Palazzo Chigi. The leather had acquired that warm and opulent patina that recalls certain backgrounds of Venetian portraits, or a beautiful bronze that still retains a trace of gilding, or a fine tortoiseshell through which gold leaf glints. A large cushion cut from a dalmatic of a rather faded color, the color that Florentine silk weavers call saffron pink, softened the headrest.
Elena sat down. She placed her right glove on the edge of the tea table, as well as her calling-card case, which was a slender case of smooth silver with two linked garters engraved on it, bearing a motto. Then she took off her veil, lifting her arms to untie the knot behind her head; and the elegant act caused a shining ripple to run through the velvet: at her armpits, along her sleeves, along her bust. As the heat of the fireplace was so strong, she shielded herself with her bare hand, which lit up like rose alabaster: her rings glittered with the gesture. She said:
âCover the fire; please. Itâs burning too strongly.
âDonât you like the flames anymore? And you were once a salamander! This fireplace remembers . . .
âDonât stir up memories, she interrupted. Just cover the fire and light a lamp. Iâll make the tea.
âDonât you want to take off your mantle?
âNo, because I must leave soon. Itâs already late.
âBut you will suffocate.
She rose with a small sign of impatience.
âHelp me, then.
As Andrea took off her mantle, he caught a whiff of her scent. It was not the same as the one she had once worn; but it was so exquisite that it reached his innermost fibers.
âYouâre wearing a new perfume, he said, with a strange tone.
She answered, simply:
âYes. Do you like it?
Andrea, still holding the mantle in his
Similar Books
Emergence: Return of Magic book 1
D. R. Rosier
Amaranth
Rachael Wade
Three Summers
Judith Clarke
Boy from the Woods (9781311684776)
Jen Minkman
Voices at Whisper Bend
Katherine Ayres
Sergeant Nelson of the Guards
Gerald Kersh
Deeper
Blue Ashcroft
Sunset Ranch
A. Destiny
Northern Exposure: Compass Brothers, Book 1
Mari Carr and Jayne Rylon