her beautiful arms, and her bosom;
her low-crowded, thick hair, parted in the centre: the sapphires on her
throat, the heavy rings on her fingers: and the paint on her lips,
the fard. Something deep, deep at the bottom of him hovered upon her,
cleaved to her. Yet he was as if sightless, in a stupor. Who was she,
what was she? He had lost all his grasp. Only he sat there, with his
face turned to hers, or to her, all the time. And she talked to him. But
she never looked at him.

Indeed she said little. It was the husband who talked. His manner
towards Aaron was almost caressive. And Aaron liked it. The woman was
silent mostly, and seemed remote. And Aaron felt his life ebb towards
her. He felt the marvellousness, the rich beauty of her arms and breast.
And the thought of her gold-dusted smooth limbs beneath the table made
him feel almost an idiot.

The second wine was a gold-coloured Moselle, very soft and rich and
beautiful. She drank this with pleasure, as one who understands. And for
dessert there was a dish of cacchi--that orange-coloured, pulpy Japanese
fruit--persimmons. Aaron had never eaten these before. Soft, almost
slimy, of a wonderful colour, and of a flavour that had sunk from harsh
astringency down to that first decay-sweetness which is all autumn-rich.
The Marchese loved them, and scooped them out with his spoon. But she
ate none.

Aaron did not know what they talked about, what was said. If someone had
taken his mind away altogether, and left him with nothing but a body and
a spinal consciousness, it would have been the same.

But at coffee the talk turned to Manfredi's duties. He would not be free
from the army for some time yet. On the morrow, for example, he had to
be out and away before it was day. He said he hated it, and wanted to
be a free man once more. But it seemed to Aaron he would be a very bored
man, once he was free. And then they drifted on to talk of the palazzo
in which was their apartment.

"We've got such a fine terrace--you can see it from your house where you
are," said Manfredi. "Have you noticed it?"

"No," said Aaron.

"Near that tuft of palm-trees. Don't you know?"

"No," said Aaron.

"Let us go out and show it him," said the Marchesa.

Manfredi fetched her a cloak, and they went through various doors, then
up some steps. The terrace was broad and open. It looked straight across
the river at the opposite Lungarno: and there was the thin-necked tower
of the Palazzo Vec