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    Wintry Peacock From "The New Decameron", Volume III.
    Wintry Peacock From "The New Decameron", Volume III.
    Wintry Peacock From "The New Decameron", Volume III.
    Ebook47 pages30 minutes

    Wintry Peacock From "The New Decameron", Volume III.

    By D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Wintry Peacock From "The New Decameron", Volume III.

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      Book preview

      Wintry Peacock From "The New Decameron", Volume III. - D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wintry Peacock, by D. H. Lawrence

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Wintry Peacock

             From The New Decameron, Volume III.

      Author: D. H. Lawrence

      Release Date: August 31, 2007 [EBook #22477]

      Last Updated: December 17, 2012

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINTRY PEACOCK ***

      Produced by David Widger

      WINTRY PEACOCK

      From The New Decameron—Volume III.

      By D. H. Lawrence

      There was thin, crisp snow on the ground, the sky was blue, the wind very cold, the air clear. Farmers were just turning out the cows for an hour or so in the midday, and the smell of cow-sheds was unendurable as I entered Tible. I noticed the ash-twigs up in the sky were pale and luminous, passing into the blue. And then I saw the peacocks. There they were in the road before me, three of them, and tailless, brown, speckled birds, with dark-blue necks and ragged crests. They stepped archly over the filigree snow, and their bodies moved with slow motion, like small, light, flat-bottomed boats. I admired them, they were curious. Then a gust of wind caught them, heeled them over as if they were three frail boats, opening their feathers like ragged sails. They hopped and skipped with discomfort, to get out of the draught of the wind. And then, in the lee of the walls, they resumed their arch, wintry motion, light and unballasted now their tails were gone, indifferent. They were indifferent to my presence. I might have touched them. They turned off to the shelter of an open shed.

      As I passed the end of the upper house, I saw a young woman just coming out of the back door. I had spoken to her in the summer. She recognised me at once, and waved to me. She was carrying a pail, wearing a white apron that was longer than her preposterously short skirt, and she had on the cotton bonnet. I took off my hat to her and was going on. But she put down her pail and darted with a swift, furtive movement after me.

      Do you mind waiting a minute? she said. I'll be out in a minute.

      She gave me a slight, odd smile, and ran back. Her face was long and sallow and her nose rather red. But her gloomy black eyes softened caressively to me for a moment,

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