DOI article:
Harland, Henry: Rosemary for remembrance
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21806#0084
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Rosemary for Remembrance
III
It was here that I met Zabetta.
The heavy portiere swung open, and a young girl stepped from
the darkness behind it into the sunshine.
I saw a soft face, with bright brown eyes ; a plain black frock,
with a little green nosegay stuck in its beit ; and a small round
scarlet hat.
A hideous old beggar woman stretched a claw towards this appa-
rition, mumbling something. The apparition smiled, and sought
in its pocket, and made the beggar woman the richer by a soldo.
I was twenty, and the April wind was magical. I thought I
had never seen so beautiful a smile, a smile so radiant, so tender.
I watched the young girl as she tripped down the church Steps,
and crossed the piazza, Corning towards me. Her smile lingered,
fading slowly, slowly, from her face.
As she neared me, her eyes met mine. For a second we looked
straight into each other’s eyes. . . .
Oh, there was nothing bold, nothing sophisticated or immodest,
in the momentary gaze she gave me. It was a natural, spontane-
ous gaze of perfectly frank, of perfectly innocent and impulsive
interest, in exchange for mineof open admiration. But it touched
the wildfire in my veins, and made it leap tumultuously.
IV
Happiness often passes close to us without our suspecting it, the
proverb says.
The young girl moved on ; and I stood still, feeling dimly that
something
Rosemary for Remembrance
III
It was here that I met Zabetta.
The heavy portiere swung open, and a young girl stepped from
the darkness behind it into the sunshine.
I saw a soft face, with bright brown eyes ; a plain black frock,
with a little green nosegay stuck in its beit ; and a small round
scarlet hat.
A hideous old beggar woman stretched a claw towards this appa-
rition, mumbling something. The apparition smiled, and sought
in its pocket, and made the beggar woman the richer by a soldo.
I was twenty, and the April wind was magical. I thought I
had never seen so beautiful a smile, a smile so radiant, so tender.
I watched the young girl as she tripped down the church Steps,
and crossed the piazza, Corning towards me. Her smile lingered,
fading slowly, slowly, from her face.
As she neared me, her eyes met mine. For a second we looked
straight into each other’s eyes. . . .
Oh, there was nothing bold, nothing sophisticated or immodest,
in the momentary gaze she gave me. It was a natural, spontane-
ous gaze of perfectly frank, of perfectly innocent and impulsive
interest, in exchange for mineof open admiration. But it touched
the wildfire in my veins, and made it leap tumultuously.
IV
Happiness often passes close to us without our suspecting it, the
proverb says.
The young girl moved on ; and I stood still, feeling dimly that
something