A season of love
Spring
It was Shrove Tuesday. Nebel had just entered the corso, already at
dark, and as she unpacked a bundle of streamers, she looked at the
carriage ahead. Missed from a face she hadn't seen the afternoon
Previously, he asked his companions:
-Who is it? She doesn't look ugly.
-A demon! She is gorgeous. She think she is the niece, or something like that, of the doctor
Arrizabalaga. She arrived yesterday, it seems to me ...
Nébel then fixed her eyes intently on the beautiful creature. She was a
still a very young girl, perhaps no more than fourteen, but completely
nubile. She had, under her very dark hair, a face of supreme whiteness,
of that matt white and satin that is the exclusive patrimony of very
fine. Long blue eyes, losing towards the temples in the circle of his
black lashes of hers. Maybe a little apart, what gives, under a forehead
smooth, air of great nobility or great stubbornness. But her eyes, like this,
they filled that blooming countenance with the light of her beauty. And feeling them
Nebel stopped a moment in his, he was dazzled.
“What a charm!” He murmured, standing still with one knee over the man.
Surrey cushion. A moment later the streamers were flying
towards victory. Both carriages were already linked by the bridge
hanging of ribbons, and the one who caused it smiled from time to time at the
gallant boy.
But that already came to the lack of respect for people, coachman and even
carriage: over the shoulder, head, whip, fender, streamers
they rained incessantly. So much so that the two people sitting in the back
They returned and, rather than smiling, examined the spender carefully.
“Who are they?” Asked Nebel in a low voice.
—Dr. Arrizabalaga; true that you do not know. The other is the mother of
your girl ... She's the doctor's sister-in-law.
As if in pursuit of the exam, Arrizabalaga and the lady smiled at each other
frankly before that exuberance of youth, Nébel believed in the
duty to greet them, to which the triplet responded with jovial condescension.
This was the beginning of an idyll that lasted three months, and to which Nébel contributed
how much adoration there was in her passionate adolescence. While
She continued the privateering, and in Concordia it lasts until incredible hours,
Nebel incessantly stretched his arm forward, so well that the
The cuff of his shirt, detached, danced over his hand.
The next day the scene was replayed; and how this time the corso was
resumed at night with a battle of flowers, Nébel exhausted in a quarter of
hour four huge baskets. Arrizabalaga and the lady laughed,
turning often, and the young woman hardly took her eyes off Nebel. East
he cast a desperate look at his empty baskets; more about him
Surrey cushion there was still one left, a poor bouquet of evergreens
and jasmine of the country. Nebel jumped with him over the surrey wheel,
he nearly dislocated an ankle, and running to victory, panting, drenched in
sweat and excitement on the surface, he handed the bouquet to the young woman. She searched
recklessly another, but she didn't have it. Her companions laugh.
"But crazy!" Her mother told him, pointing to her chest, "there you have one!"
The carriage started at a trot. Nebel, who had come down from the stirrup,
afflicted, he ran and reached for the bouquet the young woman held out to him, her body almost
out of the car.
Nébel had arrived three days ago from Buenos Aires, where he was finishing his
baccalaureate. He had been there for seven years, so his
Knowledge of the current society of Concordia was minimal. He should
stay still fifteen days in his hometown, enjoyed peacefully
of soul, if not of body; and lo and behold, from the second day he lost all
the serenity of him.
Cyra_Champ · SF
