Genevra (Classic Reprint)

Excerpt from Genevra

Genevra was the landscape become human, as if she were its first expression in conscious life and not the product of successive generations of men and women. She eminently belonged she had the same reticence, the same outer stillness with an undercurrent of active processes without begin ning or ending. The shapes and the colours and the odours of the scene were summed up in her as the elements are concentrated within the skin of a grape. Just as it would have seemed not sur prising if the tension of the sinister curves broke in flame and thunder with the sudden elevation of a volcanic peak, so for all her quietness she looked capable of devastating outbursts of passion.

Genevra struck all across a marshy croft in the direction of a small plantation running at right angles to the hi gh-road. She took the treacherous ground, stepping from tussock to tussock and avoiding the hollows with the undeviating skill of one used to broken country, though the action with which she picked up her skirt and showed a neatly shod foot was oddly of the town. As she passed along the deeply rutted road beside the plantation.

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