Springfield (Ill.) -- Fiction; Springfield (Ill.) -- In literature; Utopias in literature
And she opens her eyes and they seem the wide gates of his Prophet’s
heaven. And they have, to him, all the dewiness of honest youth. She
asks with earnestness:—
“But _how_ do we differ?”
He defies those eyes. He says: “Both have dark hair, but Avanel’s is
straight like that of the Japanese, and yours is a storm cloud about
your head.
“But _how_ do we differ? You need not deny you have studied that girl
like a book. I have seen you watching her as though she were a growing
scorpion, looking her over and over, at the Gordon Craig Theatre.
“She is no scorpion, but an artless child. Her eyes are blue. Your eyes
are black. Avanel’s skin is white and rose. You are more golden than any
coin, or any sunrise. That is the difference.” And he smiles with an air
of mock finality.
But there is more difference and my American soul fights my Malay body
and mind, as I apprehend this distinction, while they argue of other
matters. I find torturing the very depths of me, that which loves
Avanel, though I lie in this Malay grave. Yet the comparison is not all
to the advantage of the daughter of Boone.
Avanel follows the most conventional of _Vanity Fair_ and _Vogue_
fashion plates, when not a marching, dancing priestess or an
equestrienne in white. The Kling beauty is in her library or in her
palanquin wrapped in endless easy swathings of green silk from breast to
knee. Her bare shoulders and knees and feet and hands are her father’s
pride. He thinks there is nothing like their slender modelling in all
the west. She is a singer with the Borneo harp. Avanel in her life as a
religious dancer and leader of maiden cavalry and of the Horseshoe
Brotherhood, is an unmaidenly horror to Mara, who prides herself on her
seclusion. Avanel’s omnipresence on the streets, as the town heroine,
seems to Mara America’s most complete scandal.
Yet Mara has often been out in her palanquin, behind that of her father,
ostensibly to please him, but actually to see if by chance this hated
Avanel will go by. And she has brooded in seclusion over Avanel as much
as such a gentle nature can.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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