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

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‘How lovely it is here!’ said Kate. ‘Having the great dark trees beyond.’

But she stood in a kind of dread.

‘Yes it IS beautiful,’ said Mrs Norris, with the gratification of a possessor. ‘I have such a time trying to keep these apart.’ And going across in her little black shawl, she pushed the bougainvillea away from the rust-scarlet bell-flowers, stroking the little white roses to make them intervene.

‘I think the two reds together interesting,’ said Owen.

‘Do you really!’ said Mrs Norris, automatically, paying no heed to such a remark.

The sky was blue overhead, but on the lower horizon was a thick, pearl haze. The clouds had gone.

‘One never sees Popocatepetl nor Ixtaccihuatl,’ said Kate, disappointed.

‘No, not at this season. But look, through the trees there, you see Ajusco!’

Kate looked at the sombre-seeming mountain, between the huge dark trees.

On the low stone parapet were Aztec things, obsidian knives, grimacing squatting idols in black lava, and a queer thickish stone stick, or bâton. Owen was balancing the latter: it felt murderous even to touch.