Prev | Current Page 29 | Next

Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"A Spirit in Prison"

Finding that he had no cap, he
made a laughing grimace, threw up his chin and, thrusting his tongue
against his upper teeth and opening wide his mouth, uttered a little
sound most characteristically Neapolitan--a sound that seemed lightly
condemnatory of himself. This done, he stood still before Vere,
looking at the cigarettes and at the dolce.
"I've brought these for you," she said.
"Grazie, Signorina."
He did not hold out his hand, but his eyes, now devoted entirely to
the cigarettes, began to shine with pleasure. Vere did not give him
the presents at once. She had something to explain first.
"We mustn't wake them," she said, pointing towards the boat in which
the men were sleeping. "Come a little way with me."
She retreated a few steps from the sea, followed closely by the eager
boy.
"We sha'n't disturb them now," she said, stopping. "Do you know why
I've brought you these?"
She stretched out her hands, with the dolce and the cigarettes.
The boy threw his chin up again and half shut his eyes.


Pages:
17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41