"
"Oh! that boy? I remember him. His name is Philip. He is a funny little
fellow," said Edward calmly.
"Her name is Felipa, and she is not a boy or a funny little fellow at
all," I replied.
"Isn't she? I thought she was both," replied Ned carelessly, and then he
went off toward the hammock. I turned away after noting Christine's cool
greeting, and went back to the boat.
Felipa came bounding to meet me. "What is his name?" she demanded.
"Bowne."
"Buon--Buona: I cannot say it."
"Bowne, child--Edward Bowne."
"Oh! Eduardo: I know that. Eduardo--Eduardo--a name of honey."
She flew off singing the name, followed by Drollo carrying his
mistress's palmetto basket in his big patient mouth; but when I passed
the house a few moments afterward she was singing, or rather talking
volubly of, another name--"Miguel," and "the wife of Miguel," who were
apparently important personages on the canvas of her life. As it
happened, I never really saw that wife of Miguel, who seemingly had no
name of her own; but I imagined her. She lived on a sandbar in the ocean
not far from the mouth of our river; she drove pelicans like ducks with
a long switch, and she had a tame eagle; she had an old horse also, who
dragged the driftwood across the sand on a sledge, and this old horse
seemed like a giant horse always, outlined as he ever was against the
flat bar and the sky. She went out at dawn, and she went out at sunset,
but during the middle of the burning day she sat at home and polished
sea-beans, for which she obtained untold sums: she was very tall, she
was very yellow, and she had but one eye.
Pages:
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141