ON CLEAR DAYS, THE MOUNTAINS NORTH FROM HERE look quite close, but Simona says they’re more than fifty miles away. Their peaks and valleys are like a long line of open, ravening beaks.
Before we left Saint Mark’s yesterday, Simona showed us two mosaic peacocks, even more beautiful than the woven ones decorating the tent of the Saracen traders in the campo.
“They promise life everlasting,” Simona said, “because peacocks never, never die.” Her breasts heaved and her dark eyes flashed, and then she pinched Lord Stephen’s pink cheeks!
Lord Stephen harrumphed and smiled rather nervously.
“Well, then! Yes! Well, then!” he exclaimed. “With all Lady Judith’s peacocks at Holt…Holt! England! With all her peacocks, I do believe we could lay a path of feathers from earth to heaven.”
“Ah!” groaned Simona. “Paradiso!”
She took Lord Stephen’s arm and nestled against him, and her painted eyelids fluttered.
“Whatever next!” Lord Stephen said.
I could see he was smiling, though. And very nearly strutting.