Tour de Force Read Online Free PDF

at this funny old Duomo with its one foolish leg stuck up in the air, like the leg of an American convict in his striped suit; and I tell you all about San Juan el Pirata where we go to-morrow – I have mugged it up again in the guide book this morning.’ She did not take his hand, her own hands hugged the handles of the brown bag; and to cover the oddly lost feeling that it gave him to have his kindly meant gesture go unrewarded, he said, lightly, as they settled themselves on the wall: ‘What is in this old bag of yours that you will not let go of it for a moment, to take the hand of your friend?’
    â€˜What’s in my bag?’
    â€˜You hold this silly bag so tight!’
    â€˜It’s just a habit,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing in the bag of any value.’ She sat for a moment staring at the pink and white, sugar-sweet façade of the cathedral with its slender, striped black and white tower. ‘At least – only one thing. And that wouldn’t be of any value to anyone except me.’ She began to scrabble about with thin hands in the interior of the bag. ‘It’s a letter; a sort of – farewell letter. I think, Mr Fernando – I think it would be a good thing if I were to show it to you.’
    He protested. ‘Miss Trapp, Miss Trapp, I was only teasing, for God’s sake don’t think I want to know what’s in your bag. Come now, change the subject, I am your guide book, we sit here quietly and very soon you know all about San Juan …’
    But she found what she wanted and put it into his hands and he took the sheet of crested white writing-paper from the crested white envelope and read the few pitiful lines that were written there; and when they walked home that night down the narrow streets and across the incredible loveliness of the Campo and up more tiny streets to their albergo – Miss Trapp still knew very little about San Juan el Pirata but she knew all that she wished to know about Mr Fernando; and Mr Fernando knew all about Miss Trapp.
    Mr Cecil meanwhile sought out Louli. She was sitting at a little table outside one of the innumerable cafés that edge the sloping scallop-shell of the campo. ‘Oh, there you are – I’ve been looking for you. Let me stand you a grappa. We’ll get on with The Book.’ Their fellow-tourists had seized with horrid avidity upon their project but had immediately split up into two equally undesirable parties, the Stuffies and the Downright Filthies and they had been obliged to give up discussion of their opus in public.
    Louvaine seemed not over-anxious to pursue the matter, however. ‘Actually, I think I have an assignation of my own. It’s tricky, because I don’t really know where or when.’ She looked about her uneasily. ‘I thought the best thing to do was just go somewhere obvious and stay put.’
    Mr Cecil was all excitement. ‘An assignation? Who with?’
    â€˜With the lift of an eyebrow,’ said Louli, ruefully laughing. ‘I don’t even know if it really meant anything.’
    â€˜Oh, is that where you disappear to every evening? You don’t waste much time,’ said Mr Cecil. He was aglow with interest and curiosity. But it was odd. ‘I thought it was usually the young woman who said where and when – not to mention whether. Not that I’d know,’ he added, hastily.
    She shrugged, again ruefully. ‘I’m afraid this is rather a case of, “Oh, whistle –”’
    â€˜â€œâ€“ and I’ll come to you, my lad”?’
    â€˜That’s about the size of it,’ said Louvaine.
    Mr Cecil rapidly reviewed the various men in the party; there were two callow youths but they were after the handsome niece and surely too small fry for La Barker with all the worldly experience she must (at her age, let’s face it) have known; and for the rest, a couple of stuffy old colonels