Buku Exiles by Warwick Deeping

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Exiles by Warwick Deeping

Author:Warwick Deeping [Deeping, Warwick]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: Fiction

Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada

Published: 1930-09-06T05:00:00+00:00

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Exiles by Warwick Deeping

IV

Tindaro began to be very hot, and twice a day a rickety watercart trundled up and down the Corso. Tommaso of the Café Ceres abominated that cart, because he was able to treat his own particular piece of pavement with a watering-can, and the cart was too impartial and splashed tables and chairs. Flies were growing free and fierce. The cakes in the window collected a black swarm each day, and Billy, sitting with Frevick or Mrs. Shone at one of the tables, wondered why Tommaso and the padrone did not do something about those flies. But perhaps that was typical of Tindaro, and especially so of Tindaro in the heat.

“Why don’t they kill the flies?”

 

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Exiles by Warwick Deeping

Author:Warwick Deeping [Deeping, Warwick] , Date: June 12, 2019

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Author:Warwick Deeping [Deeping, Warwick]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: Fiction

Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada

Published: 1930-09-06T05:00:00+00:00
IV

Tindaro began to be very hot, and twice a day a rickety watercart trundled up and down the Corso. Tommaso of the Café Ceres abominated that cart, because he was able to treat his own particular piece of pavement with a watering-can, and the cart was too impartial and splashed tables and chairs. Flies were growing free and fierce. The cakes in the window collected a black swarm each day, and Billy, sitting with Frevick or Mrs. Shone at one of the tables, wondered why Tommaso and the padrone did not do something about those flies. But perhaps that was typical of Tindaro, and especially so of Tindaro in the heat.

“Why don’t they kill the flies?”

“Flies, my dear! Why they don’t worry about flies in Tindaro. And sure, if they did, they would be worrying all night. They wouldn’t know where to begin.”

But at the Library and at the Villa Vesta war was waged upon flies. Muslin screens protected the windows, and saucers of formalin and sugar and light beer persuaded the pests to be poisoned. Also, there were mosquitoes. Billy reinforced Miss Lord in her assaults upon insectdom; she kept a switch, and occasionally she would use it irritably upon some persistent fly.

“O, get out, you beast.”

She was not sleeping very well. Nor was she looking at herself very critically in her mirror, for mirrors were out of favour, and so she did not realize that she was growing just a little like Winnie Haycroft, faintly dusty and faded. The Tindaro season was drifting to its stale and empty end; villas were being shut up; the hotels were going to sleep.

Winnie Haycroft’s plaint was in her eyes. “Oh, if I could go to England.”

There was a kind of sadness in Tindaro, especially among those who were exiles; and who sat and watched the hotel buses carrying the English luggage to the station. Green England in May! The Pipps had a house in Berkshire on the river. The Sudbury Smiths went to Surrey. The Bromheads removed themselves to a cottage in Devon. Lucky people. Frevick would sit and stare with melancholy eyes at distant and imagined landscapes, the Weald of Sussex, Amberley, the Dorset hills and the sea at Lyme Regis, Beaulieu Abbey, the green valley of the Test. Mirleess babbled about Northern France, and spoke of Richebourg, and a lane behind Festubert where red may trees grew, and the hill of Cassel. Tindaro was becoming dusty and full of flies.

Billy went twice a week to dine with the Burts at the Villa Felice. Afterwards she would sit and listen to Stella’s piano. And on one Sunday, Burt took her with him on one of those digging expeditions in the hills, a long, scrambling day. Billy got very tired and tried not to show it; it was a new thing for her to feel tired. But Burt noticed it.

He agreed with Julia Lord.

“The kid needs a change. That affair has taken a lot out of her. And it’s her first season out here.

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