Hals would have approved--would he not?--the pollard aspens,
these pollard aspens deciduous and wistful, which the rime makes
glistening. That field, how well ploughed it is, and are they not like
petticoats, those clouds low-hanging? Yes, Hals would have stated them
well, but only Manet could have stated the slope of the thighs of
the girl--how does she call herself?--Arabella--it is a so hard name
to remember--as she steps across the stile. Manet would have found
pleasure in her cheeks also. They are a little chapped with the
north-west wind that makes the pollard aspens to quiver. How adorable
a thing it is, a girl's nose that the north-west wind renders red! We
may tire of it sometimes, because we sometimes tire of all things,
but Winkle does not know this. Is Arabella his mistress? If she is
not, she has been, or at any rate she will be. How full she is of
temperament, is she not? Her shoulder-blades seem a little carelessly
modelled, but how good they are in intention! How well placed that
smut on her left cheek!
Strange thoughts of her surge up vaguely in me as I watch
her--thoughts that I cannot express in English.... Elle est plus
vieille que les roches entre lesquelles elle s'est assise; comme
le vampire elle a ete frequemment morte, et a appris les secrets du
tombeau; et s'est plongee dans des mers profondes, et conserve autour
d'elle leur jour ruine; et, comme Lede, etait mere d'Helene de Troie,
et, comme Sainte-Anne, mere de Maria; et tout cela n'a ete pour elle
que.
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