‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. Leonardo had taught her pretty well everything she could have need to know, when they had talked long at his bedside. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind.
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This video was uploaded to lewoagencies.com on 05-07-2024 13:16:09
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