"Roads by Seabury Quinn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Quinn Seabury)

gasped. "Do thou go on, my lord. Thou hast done thy duty to
the full already. 'Tis better one should die than two; nor is it
meet that thou shouldst stay and risk thy life for me -"
"Be silent, Woman," he commanded gruffly. "Raise thy
arms!"
Obediently she put her arms about his shoulders and he
lifted her as though she were a child. Then, his cloak about his
head to fend off falling fragments of the buildings, he darted
from house to house until the narrow street was cleared and
they came at length to a small open space.
It was lighter here, and he could see his salvage. She was
a pretty thing, scarce larger than a half-grown child, and little
past her girlhood. Slender she was, yet with the softly
rounded curves of budding womanhood. Her skin, deep sun-
kissed olive, showed every violet vein through its veil of
lustrous tan. Her hands, as dimpled as a child's, were tipped
with long and pointed nails on which a sheathing of bright
goldleaf had been laid, so that they shone like tiny mirrors.
Her little feet were gilt-nailed like her hands and innocent of
sandals and painted bright with henna on the soles and heels
and toes. On ankles, wrists and arms hung bangles of rose
gold set thick with lapis-lazuli and topaz and bright garnet,
while rings of the same precious metal hung from each ear

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almost to her wax-smooth shoulders. On fore and little fingers
of each hand and on the great and little toe of each foot she
wore rings of gold set with green zircon, and a diadem of gold
in which gems flashed was circled round her brow, binding
back the curling black locks which lay clustering round her
face. Her small high breasts were bare, their nipples stained
with henna, and beneath her bosom was a zone of golden
wire from which a robe of sheer vermilion gauze was hung.
Beneath this she wore baggy trousers of black net as fine-
meshed as a veil. Ground antimony had been rubbed on her
eyelids, and her full voluptuous lips were stained a brilliant
red with powdered cinnabar.
He recognized her: one of the hetaerae from the house
of love kept by the courtezan of Magdala before she turned
from harlotry to follow the young Prophet they had crucified
that morning. Her mistress gone, the girl had taken service as
a dancer at Agrippa's court. He drew away a little. His clean-
bred northern flesh revolted at the thought of contact with the
little strumpet.
"What didst thou in the street?" he asked. "Were there so
few to buy thy wares within the palace that thou must hawk
them in the highway?"