"Colin Greenland - A Passion For Lord Pierrot (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenland Colin)

where
she reclines, naked and pale on the tousled sheets. When the instrument
falls silent, Lord Pierrot speaks in Latin, telling her that his
melancholy is but natural, under the circumstances. 'Post coitum,' says
Lord Pierrot, 'omne animal triste est.'
'You have said that to me before,' says Daphne Dolores. 'I remember it.
I
wish I could be learned, and know such things.'
'So you could, my dear,' replies Lord Pierrot, 'so you could, if you
would
first grow to my age.'
'Oh, now you will complain of your years, and talk of decline and the
inadequacy of flesh,' says Daphne Dolores at once, protesting, though
in
gentle merriment. 'I shall not allow you to remain in this mood,' she
declares, and she rises from the bed and comes to him where he sits in
the
doorway. Stooping, she embraces him from behind, stroking his cooling
flesh and kissing his ear and his neck until he begins to rouse again.
'No, Daphne Dolores,' says Lord Pierrot then, and with a touch he
deters
her, disengaging her arms from about his neck. He nods his long head in
the direction of the lake. 'It is time I returned to my lady.'
At that Daphne Dolores casts herself upon him and clasps him to her
once
again. 'Stay with me tonight,' she pleads. She twists her fine fingers
into his soft white hair.
Lord Pierrot is surprised at her forwardness, though flattered as any
man
would be. Usually she is more modest. He felicitates himself for having
roused a new passion in her tonight. Her love for him, which he would
have
sworn was complete, is growing yet.
He detaches her hand from his hair and brings it to his lips. 'Alas,'
he
says. 'I may not. Women,' he tells her, 'are creatures of the heart;
but
men must bend the knee to duty.'
The truth is, that Lord Pierrot is grown old, as they reckon these
things
on Triax, and amorous exertion, especially in the season of heat,
leaves
him not only melancholy but also exhausted. But this is neither the
place
nor the time for truth; only for the voice of regret, in words of
parting.
Bidding Daphne Dolores a gallant farewell, Lord Pierrot closes the door
of
the lodge, straightens his cuffs, and steps carefully in the dark down
past the black rock to the sandy margin of the lake. He goes to board