Читать книгу The Plumed Serpent. Historical Novel - Life and Love after the Mexico Revolution онлайн

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‘Ah!’ cried Mirabal, flourishing his wine-glass. ‘Isn’t that wonderful, when only the miracle will save us! When we must produce the miracle? WE! WE! We must make the miracle!’ He hit his own breast emphatically. ‘Ah, I think that is marvellous!’ And he returned to his turkey in black sauce.

‘Look at the Mexicans!’ Toussaint flared on. ‘They don’t care about anything. They eat food so hot with chili, it burns holes in their insides. And it has no nourishment. They live in houses that a dog would be ashamed of, and they lie and shiver with cold. But they don’t DO anything. They could make, easily, easily, a bed of maize leaves or similar leaves. But they don’t do it. They don’t do anything. They roll up in a thin serape and lie on a thin mat on the bare ground, whether it is wet or dry. And Mexican nights are cold. But they lie down like dogs, anyhow, as if they lay down to die. I say dogs! But you will see the dogs looking for a dry sheltered place. The Mexicans, no! Anywhere, nothing, nothing! And it is terrible. It is terrible! As if they wanted to punish themselves for being alive!’