Читать книгу Katherine Mansfield, The Woman Behind The Books (Including Letters, Journals, Essays & Articles) - Katherine Mansfield - Страница 74

“In the distance these hills; to the right, almost violet; to the left, grey with rain. Behind, a great mound of pewter colour and silver. Then as we journey, a little line of brilliant green trees and a mound of yellow grass. We stop at a little swamp to feed the horses, and there is only the sound of a frog.

“Intense stillness, almost terrible. Then the mountains are more pronounced. They are still more beautiful, and by and by a little puff of white steam … and by twists and turns in the road we pass several steam holes. Perfect stillness, and a strange red tinge on the cliffs.

“We pass one oily green lake — fantastic blossoming. The air is heavy with sulphur and steam…. By and by we go to see mud volcanos — mount the steps all slimy and green, and peer in. It bulges out of the hole in great blobs of loathsome colour like a terribly grisly sore upon the earth. In a little whirling pool below, a thin coating of petroleum — black with jet — Rain began to fall — She is disgusted and outraged.

“Coming back — the terrible road — the long, long distance — and finally soaking wetness and hunger. Bed and wetness again. The morning is fine but hot — The nearer they get to the town, the more she hates it. Perhaps it is the smell …”