The Burning Shore - Smith Wilbur (читаем бесплатно книги полностью .txt) 📗
Their whole way of life had changed dramatically since the stormwaves of war had swept over them. Though they had never kept the same grand style as some of the other leading families of the province, there had always been dinners and house-parties and twenty servants to sustain them, but now their existence was almost as simple as had been that of their servants before the war.
Centaine threw off her forebodings with her bedclothes, and ran down the narrow stoneflagged corridor on bare feet. In the kitchen Anna was at the stove, already feeding it with split oak.
I was on my way to you with a jug of cold water, she said gruffly, and Centaine hugged her and kissed her until she smiled, and then went to warm herself in front of the stove.
Anna poured boiling water into the copper basin on the oar and then added cold. Come along, mademoiselle"
she ordered.
Oh, Anna, do I have to? Move! Reluctantly Centaine lifted the nightdress over her head, and shivered as the cold raised a fine rash of goosepimples on her forearms and over her small rounded buttocks.
Hurry. She stepped into the basin and Anna knelt beside her and dunked a flannel. Her movements were methodical and businesslike as she soaped down Centaine's body, starting at the shoulders and working to the fingertips of each arm, but she could not conceal the love and pride that softened her ugly red face.
The child was delightfully formed, though perhaps her breasts and bottom were a little too small, Anna hoped to plump them out with a good starchy diet, once that was freely obtainable again. Her skin was a smooth, buttery colour, where the sun had not touched it, though where it had been exposed, it tended to take on a dark bronze sheen that Anna found most unsightly.
You must wear your gloves and long sleeves this summer, she scolded. Brown is so ugly Do hurry up, Anna. Centaine hugged her soapy breasts and shivered, and Anna lifted her arms one at a time and scrubbed the dense bushes of dark curly hair under them.
The suds ran in long lacy lines down her lean flanks where the rack of her ribs showed through.
Don't be so rough, Centaine wailed. And Anna examined her limbs critically: they were straight and long, though much too strong for a lady, all that riding and running and walking. Anna shook her head.
Oh, what now? Centaine demanded.
You are as hard as a boy, your belly is too muscular for having babies. Anna ran the flannel down her body. Ouch! Stay still, you don't want to smell like a goat, do you? Anna, don't you just love blue eyes? Anna grunted, knowing instinctively where the discussion was headed.
What colour eyes would a baby have, if its mother's eyes were brown and its father's a lovely shimmering blue? Anna slapped her bottom with the flannel. That is enough of that. Your father will not like that kind of talk. Centaine did not take the threat seriously, she went on dreamily. Airmen are so brave, don't you think, Anna?
They must be the bravest men in the world. She became brisk. Hurry, Anna, I'll be late to count my chickens. She sprang from the basin, scattering water drops on the flagged floor, while Anna wrapped her in a towel that she had heated in front of the stove. Anna, it's almost light outside.
You come back here immediately after, Anna ordered. We have a lot of work to do today. Your father has reduced us to starvation level with his misplaced generosity."We had to offer a meal to those gallant young airmen. Centaine pulled on her clothes and sat on the stool to hook up her riding boots. Don't go mooning off into the woods- Oh, hush, Anna. Centaine jumped up and went clattering down the stairs. You come straight back! Anna yelled after her.
Nuage heard her coming and whickered softly. Cen tame flung both arms around his neck and kissed his velvety grey muzzle.
Bonjour my darling. She had stolen two cubes of sugar from under Anna's nose and now Nuage salivated over her hand as she fed them to him. She wiped her palm on his neck and then when she turned to lift down the saddle from its rack, he bumped her in the small of the back, demanding more.
Outside it was dark and cold, and she urged the stallion into a canter, revelling in the icy flow of air across her face, her nose and ears turning bright pink and her eyes beginning to stream tears. At the crest of the hillock, she reined Nuage to a standstill and looked into the soft gunmetal sheen of dawn, watching the sky above the long horizon turn to the colour of ripe oranges. Behind her the false dawn caused by the harsh, intermittent glow of the artillery barrage flickered against the heavens, but steadfastly she turned her back to it and waited for the planes to come.
She heard the distant beat of their engines, even over the sound of the guns, and then they came snarling into the yellow dawn, as fierce and swift and beautiful as falcons, so that, as always, she felt her pulse race, and she rose high in the saddle to greet them.
The lead machine was the green one with its tiger stripes of victory, the mad Scotsman. She lifted both hands high above her head.
Go with God, and come back safely! she shouted her blessing, and saw the flash of white teeth under the ridiculous tartan tam o shanter, and the green machine waggled its wings and then it was past, climbing away into the sinister sombre clouds that hung above the German lines.
She watched them go, the other aircraft closing up around the green leader into their fighting formation, and she was overwhelmed with a vast sadness, a terrible sense of inadequacy.
Why couldn't I be a man! she cried aloud. Oh, why couldn't I be going with you! But already they were out of sight, and she turned Nuage down the hill.
They will all die, she thought. All the young and strong and beautiful young men, and we will be left only with the old and maimed and ugly. And the sound of the distant guns counterpointed her fears. I wish, oh, how I wish, she said aloud, and the stallion flicked his ears back to listen to her, but she did not go on, for she did not know what it was she wished for. She knew only that there was a void within her that ached to be filled, a vast wanting for she did not know what, and a terrible sorrow for all the world. She turned Nuage loose to graze in the small field behind the chateau and carried his saddle back on her shoulder.
Her father was sitting at the kitchen table and she kissed him casually. His eyepatch gave him a rakish air despite that fact that his other eye was bloodshot; his face was a baggy and wrinkled as a bloodhound's and he smelled of garlic and stale red wine.
As usual, he and Anna were bickering in a companionable fashion, and as Centaine sat opposite him cupping the big round coffee bowl in her hands, she wondered suddenly if Anna and her father mated together, and immediately after she wondered why the notion had never occurred to her before.
As a country girl, the processes of procreation were no mystery to her. Despite Anna's original protests, she was always there to assist when mares from the surrounding district were brought to visit Nuage. She was the only one who could manage the big white stallion once he smelt the mare, and calm him sufficiently to enable him to perform his business without injuring himself or the object of his affections.
By a process of logic, she had reached the conclusion that man and woman must work on similar principles.
When she had questioned Anna, she had at first threatened to report Centaine to her papa and wash her mouth out with lye soap. Patiently Centaine had persisted until at last Anna had in a hoarse whisper confirmed her suspicions, and glanced across the kitchen at the comte with a look on her face that Centaine had never seen before, and at the time could not fathom, but which now made logical sense.
Watching them argue and laugh together, it all fell into place, the occasions when after a nightmare she had gone to Anna's room for comfort and found her bed empty, the puzzling presence of one of Anna's petticoats under her father's bed when she was sweeping out his bedroom.
