Azotea
Excerpt from my novel on hiatus "El Libri de Pecadores". I wanted to post this somewhere for posterity. =p
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As though he expected it of her, Danilo looked up to find Isabel, still donning her dancing skirts and glittery payneta, at the azotea of her grandfather's mansion. Because of the cold December air, the young priest felt a quaintness at her choice of vantage point. From his own position within the milieu of merrymaking, the azotea appeared lonely. It was distant, unreachable, and lofty. Brightly lit with imported lanterns, it was a glimpse of what heaven was amongst the stars. As the crowds urged Danilo to move forward, towards the church, he held himself still, resisting, to observe Isabel for a moment more. He had also watched her during the mass. She sat between her tia and her abuelo. A small smile, shy-seeming on her beautifully deceiving maiden face, touched her rosy lips lightly. She had been apparently amused.
Curious, as he was wont to be when it came to matters concerning Isabel, Danilo joined Padre Cirino at Don Miguel's dinner party. And, as though she expected it of him, Isabel made herself available for conversation by seating herself inside the drawing room. When Danilo saw her, her female companions immediately greeted him politely, kissing his hand respectfully. He blessed Isabel's companions and they left, gossiping amongst themselves, the concerns of women they did not think a priest like Danilo should hear.
Isabel stepped forward, her eyes properly lowered and bowed her head and kissed Danilo's hand. The soft caress of her lips instantly weighed his cross of lust. "Benedicite, Isabel."
"Benedicite, Padre," Isabel replied as she met his eyes. Her gaze held no question even as she spoke one, "You wish to speak to me?"
Danilo said nothing, but walked to the azotea, instead, wondering what she saw from that place. He almost laughed when he realized that there was nearly nothing to see. He walked a few steps down, trying to get closer to the street, but still there was nothing. Isabel had followed, silent and observant. She kept her place at the top of the stairway, watching with no wonderment in her expression.
When Danilo finally faced her, she spoke. "There is an irony here. When I watched the people pray for protection and guidance, I could not help to smile."
Confused, Danilo frowned at the woman, "You speak as if there is irony in prayer."
Isabel laughed demurely. "There is irony in prayer," she confirmed. "For there is no patroness to hear."
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As though he expected it of her, Danilo looked up to find Isabel, still donning her dancing skirts and glittery payneta, at the azotea of her grandfather's mansion. Because of the cold December air, the young priest felt a quaintness at her choice of vantage point. From his own position within the milieu of merrymaking, the azotea appeared lonely. It was distant, unreachable, and lofty. Brightly lit with imported lanterns, it was a glimpse of what heaven was amongst the stars. As the crowds urged Danilo to move forward, towards the church, he held himself still, resisting, to observe Isabel for a moment more. He had also watched her during the mass. She sat between her tia and her abuelo. A small smile, shy-seeming on her beautifully deceiving maiden face, touched her rosy lips lightly. She had been apparently amused.
Curious, as he was wont to be when it came to matters concerning Isabel, Danilo joined Padre Cirino at Don Miguel's dinner party. And, as though she expected it of him, Isabel made herself available for conversation by seating herself inside the drawing room. When Danilo saw her, her female companions immediately greeted him politely, kissing his hand respectfully. He blessed Isabel's companions and they left, gossiping amongst themselves, the concerns of women they did not think a priest like Danilo should hear.
Isabel stepped forward, her eyes properly lowered and bowed her head and kissed Danilo's hand. The soft caress of her lips instantly weighed his cross of lust. "Benedicite, Isabel."
"Benedicite, Padre," Isabel replied as she met his eyes. Her gaze held no question even as she spoke one, "You wish to speak to me?"
Danilo said nothing, but walked to the azotea, instead, wondering what she saw from that place. He almost laughed when he realized that there was nearly nothing to see. He walked a few steps down, trying to get closer to the street, but still there was nothing. Isabel had followed, silent and observant. She kept her place at the top of the stairway, watching with no wonderment in her expression.
When Danilo finally faced her, she spoke. "There is an irony here. When I watched the people pray for protection and guidance, I could not help to smile."
Confused, Danilo frowned at the woman, "You speak as if there is irony in prayer."
Isabel laughed demurely. "There is irony in prayer," she confirmed. "For there is no patroness to hear."
posted by Paris dLR at 6:30 AM
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