tumbler and juggler for a while,
looked in at a display of animals from Africa on Queen Isabela Avenue,
joined in the rowdy singing of a troupe of street comedians. Now at
last they had come to the hub of the city, to Empire Circle where five
wide boulevards met. Here a bonfire was spitting and snarling as people
threw fireworks into it; a band was playing traditional tunes, and people
danced in the roadway by the light of the flames.
It had turned much colder in the past hour or so, and Kristina, with only
a light carriage-cloak covering her flimsy gown, ran forward to warm her
hands at the fire. She tossed her long hair back and looked round at him,
her eyes sparkling behind her black mask.
"Ah, Miguel! I hadn't thought the people of these damp and misty islands
knew so well how to amuse themselves!"
"Oh, we Spanish brought some sunlight from the south when we conquered
England, and a trace of it still lingers in our bones," Don Miguel
returned with a grin. "It's true you'll find people, here and there, who
inveigh against festivities like these as though there were something
sinful about having a good time, but thank goodness the mass of the
public are too sensible to listen to their arguments. Is what you've
seen much different from what you find in your own country?"
"Oh, only on the surface. Of course it's far colder at home, so we go
skiing, or sleighing, for months on end while the snow lasts. But the
principle's the same." She rubbed her hands together one last time at
the fire and turned away, her cheeks reddened by the warmth. "Why Miguel,
you look sad all of a sudden! What's wrong?"
"I was thinking . . ." He hesitated. Normally he would not have spoken
of what was in his mind to a girl, whether or not she was of noble birth.
However, Kristina was considerably different from any other girl of twenty
that he'd met.
"I was thinking," he continued slowly, "of other festivals I've seen,
at other places and times. The Aztec feast, for instance, in honour of
Xipe the Flayed God, where the officiating priests were dressed in human
skins and there was ritual cannibalism after the victims had their hearts
torn out."
"You've seen that?"
"Yes, I've seen that. And the Ludi in the Circus Maximus at Rome,
where men died for no better reason than to glut the blood-lust of the
crowd. And . . ." He ended the remark with a shrug.
"No wonder you're such a grim person," Kristina said after a pause. "I'm
sorry that I mocked you for it earlier. It must be a terrible burden to
carry in the memory."
"No, not so much as one might think. For one comes back, you see, to
innocent merriment such as this. The prudish and puritanical who so
roundly condemn the gaiety of New Year's Eve ought to be ashamed of
themselves, I think. This is certainly one way in which the world has
altered for the better. How would they feel if we still murdered people
publicly, just to provide a spectacle?"
Kristina gave a sober nod of agreement, and there was a pause. Then,
uttering a quick light laugh, she took his arm and began to move away
from the fire.
"Ah, that chance to warm myself was very welcome. Strange, when it's
far less cold here than at home, how I feel the chill go clear to my
marrow. It must be the dampness, I suppose, which I'm simply not used
to. How do you suppose she endures it, for example?" She shook a hand
free of her cloak and raised it to point across the roadway.
For a moment, Don Miguel did not see what she meant, but a couple of
youths nearby also caught the movement and glanced up, and one of them
whistled in amazement. "Look!" he urged his companion. "Look there,
I say. What do you make of that?"
His friend's eyes bulged. "Drunk, or mad, to behave like that!" he
exclaimed. "Probably mad!"
"An interesting kind of madness," the first youth said.
Don Miguel's reaction, too, at first sight of the subject of their remarks
was to assume she must be out of her mind. For one thing
looked in at a display of animals from Africa on Queen Isabela Avenue,
joined in the rowdy singing of a troupe of street comedians. Now at
last they had come to the hub of the city, to Empire Circle where five
wide boulevards met. Here a bonfire was spitting and snarling as people
threw fireworks into it; a band was playing traditional tunes, and people
danced in the roadway by the light of the flames.
It had turned much colder in the past hour or so, and Kristina, with only
a light carriage-cloak covering her flimsy gown, ran forward to warm her
hands at the fire. She tossed her long hair back and looked round at him,
her eyes sparkling behind her black mask.
"Ah, Miguel! I hadn't thought the people of these damp and misty islands
knew so well how to amuse themselves!"
"Oh, we Spanish brought some sunlight from the south when we conquered
England, and a trace of it still lingers in our bones," Don Miguel
returned with a grin. "It's true you'll find people, here and there, who
inveigh against festivities like these as though there were something
sinful about having a good time, but thank goodness the mass of the
public are too sensible to listen to their arguments. Is what you've
seen much different from what you find in your own country?"
"Oh, only on the surface. Of course it's far colder at home, so we go
skiing, or sleighing, for months on end while the snow lasts. But the
principle's the same." She rubbed her hands together one last time at
the fire and turned away, her cheeks reddened by the warmth. "Why Miguel,
you look sad all of a sudden! What's wrong?"
"I was thinking . . ." He hesitated. Normally he would not have spoken
of what was in his mind to a girl, whether or not she was of noble birth.
However, Kristina was considerably different from any other girl of twenty
that he'd met.
"I was thinking," he continued slowly, "of other festivals I've seen,
at other places and times. The Aztec feast, for instance, in honour of
Xipe the Flayed God, where the officiating priests were dressed in human
skins and there was ritual cannibalism after the victims had their hearts
torn out."
"You've seen that?"
"Yes, I've seen that. And the Ludi in the Circus Maximus at Rome,
where men died for no better reason than to glut the blood-lust of the
crowd. And . . ." He ended the remark with a shrug.
"No wonder you're such a grim person," Kristina said after a pause. "I'm
sorry that I mocked you for it earlier. It must be a terrible burden to
carry in the memory."
"No, not so much as one might think. For one comes back, you see, to
innocent merriment such as this. The prudish and puritanical who so
roundly condemn the gaiety of New Year's Eve ought to be ashamed of
themselves, I think. This is certainly one way in which the world has
altered for the better. How would they feel if we still murdered people
publicly, just to provide a spectacle?"
Kristina gave a sober nod of agreement, and there was a pause. Then,
uttering a quick light laugh, she took his arm and began to move away
from the fire.
"Ah, that chance to warm myself was very welcome. Strange, when it's
far less cold here than at home, how I feel the chill go clear to my
marrow. It must be the dampness, I suppose, which I'm simply not used
to. How do you suppose she endures it, for example?" She shook a hand
free of her cloak and raised it to point across the roadway.
For a moment, Don Miguel did not see what she meant, but a couple of
youths nearby also caught the movement and glanced up, and one of them
whistled in amazement. "Look!" he urged his companion. "Look there,
I say. What do you make of that?"
His friend's eyes bulged. "Drunk, or mad, to behave like that!" he
exclaimed. "Probably mad!"
"An interesting kind of madness," the first youth said.
Don Miguel's reaction, too, at first sight of the subject of their remarks
was to assume she must be out of her mind. For one thing
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