Ellice Quentin, and other storiesHawthorne, Julian
General
Ellice Quentin, and other stories
Hawthorne, Julian
American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
As if to compensate for their physical dissimilarity, they were dressed
almost precisely alike. Both had on shoes made of a flat sole of
plaited hemp, with stout linen uppers curiously embroidered with red
and blue braid, and laced round the ankle after the manner of the
ancient sandal. Both wore a kind of straw bonnet, high-crowned and
wide brimmed, clewed down on either side the face by a broad ribbon
tied under the chin. Neither possessed any other essential article of
clothing except a close-fitting tunic or set of tights, with the legs
and arms cut off close to the body. Over this was lightly thrown a long
mantle of Turkish-towel stuff. The tights were striped horizontally,
alternate white and blue for the Englishman, and red and white for the
American; and herein lay the sole distinction between their respective
costumes. It is true that the American's fitted much the more closely
and smoothly of the two; but that is neither here nor there.
In front of these simply-attired friends, and breaking in baby ripples
at their feet, stretched in slumbrous calm a pale and turquoise ocean,
destitute of any visible horizon. A tender haze which brooded in that
region so intermingled sea and air that distant ships seemed to sail in
the clouds, and clouds to voyage upon the water.
Behind them rose a mounded beach of purple shingle, uncomfortable to
tread upon, but invaluable as a bulwark against the incursion of high
tides into the low-lying village beyond. This village snuggled in the
valley formed between the two hills which abutted at either extremity
of the beach in precipitous cliffs, reflecting their pallid faces in
the molten surface of the summer sea.
Between the village and the beach, and surmounting the latter like
a fort, extended the casino parade, an embankment of masonry lying
parallel with the shore, and backed by the casino itself, long, low,
and flat-roofed, all windows and awnings. It contained a card room,
billiard room, restaurant and theatre, the last transmutable into a
ball room by the simple process of removing the pit seats.
The persons of whom I write were not alone by the water's edge; on the
contrary, they had scarcely more than elbow room. On either side of
them stood, chattered, and gesticulated a hundred human beings of both
sexes and all ages, arrayed more or less on the same general principle
already detailed. A hundred others paddled, plunged, and bobbed in the
pellucid element in front. Twice as many lounged, fluttered, and ogled
in serried groups in the rear--these last resplendent in the latest
Parisian fashions for the month of August. Down upon this gay scene of
colour, sparkle, and sound glowered the hot, lazy sun, longing for the
still nine-hours-distant time when he might cool his own sweltering
sides in the luxury of a sea bath.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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