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D. H. Lawrence. The Plumed Serpent
The Plumed Serpent
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I. Beginnings of a Bull-fight
CHAPTER II. Tea-party in Tlacolula
CHAPTER III. Fortieth Birthday
CHAPTER IV. To Stay or Not to Stay
CHAPTER V. The Lake
CHAPTER VI. The Move Down the Lake
CHAPTER VII. The Plaza
CHAPTER VIII. Night in the House
CHAPTER IX. Casa de las Cuentas
CHAPTER X. Don Ramón and Doña Carlota
CHAPTER XI. Lords of the Day and Night
CHAPTER XII. The First Waters
CHAPTER XIII. The First Rain
CHAPTER XIV. Home to Sayula
CHAPTER XV. The Written Hymns of Quetzalcoatl
CHAPTER XVI. Cipriano and Kate
CHAPTER XVII. Fourth Hymn and the Bishop
CHAPTER XVIII. Auto da Fe
CHAPTER XIX. The Attack on Jamiltepec
CHAPTER XX. Marriage by Quetzalcoatl
CHAPTER XXI. The Opening of the Church
CHAPTER XXII. The Living Huitzilopochtli
CHAPTER XXIII. Huitzilopochtli's Night
CHAPTER XXIV. Malintzi
CHAPTER XXV. Teresa
CHAPTER XXVI. Kate is a Wife
CHAPTER XXVII. Here!
THE END
Отрывок из книги
D. H. Lawrence
Published by Good Press, 2021
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They were mostly loutish men in city clothes, the mongrel men of a mongrel city. Two men stood making water against the wall, in the interval of their excitement. One father had kindly brought his little boys to the show, and stood in fat, sloppy, paternal benevolence above them. They were pale mites, the elder about ten years old, highly dressed up in Sunday clothes. And badly they needed protecting from that paternal benevolence, for they were oppressed, peaked, and a bit wan from the horrors. To those children at least bull-fights did not come natural, but would be an acquired taste. There were other children, however, and fat mammas in black satin that was greasy and grey at the edges with an overflow of face-powder. These fat mammas had a pleased, excited look in their eyes, almost sexual, and very distasteful in contrast to their soft passive bodies.
Kate shivered a little in her thin frock, for the ponderous rain had a touch of ice. She stared through the curtain of water at the big rickety gates of the enclosure surrounding the amphitheatre, at the midget soldiers cowering in their shoddy, pink-white cotton uniforms, and at the glimpse of the squalid street outside, now running with dirty brown streams. The vendors had all taken refuge, in dirty-white clusters, in the pulque shops, one of which was sinisterly named: A Ver que Sale.
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