out by the superstitious pawing of followers seeking miracles.
The major surveyed the sleeping form of his rebellious niece and tried to hold at bay the affection that always threatened at such moments. He could not allow himself the all too human indulgence of sentiment if she was going to fulfill her destiny and his plan. Viewed from above, there really wasnât that much to the girl. She had bony knees, and her long, skinny legs looked like they needed a shave, and her feet needed scrubbing. Her eyes were shut too tight, and her breasts pointed up like two Mongol mini helmets. Even in sleep she seemed coiled up, ready to strike, unable to leave the world completely behind.
âMy angry little Messiah, my Dulcinea-cum-Christ,â murmured Notz, as if that were a dish he might whip up.
Chapter Four
Wherein the sisters of Saint Hildegard Hospice are seen to wonder about the girl Andrea , her habits, and her charm
Although they couldnât say exactly what was wrong with the girl, something clearly was. She was sick. Sometimes she shone as if she had a fever. Her eyes looked past everyone. When he first saw her, Father Hernio pronounced: âI have seen this in the eyes of other youths. She has the virus of indifference!â
Father Hernio had been observing the Shades and neotribals who gathered in Jerusalemâs bohemian coffeehouses. Some of them had bones in their noses and earlobes. Their faces and bodies were sometimes completely covered with tattoos. One man had fifteen bronze studs in his face, like a pincushion. Another had a complete brain tattooed on the surface of his shaved head. And some had what appeared to be an entire body inscribed over their own. These disfigurements, thought the priest, implied a degree of faith in the future. Such skins could certainly not be discarded when the body died. Surely they would be dried and preserved. But the body art also implied an absence of faith in present-day life. In the eyes of these youths Father Hernio detected the virus of indifference.
But the sisters knew that Andrea was not sick from indifference; she was traumatized by what she had seen and experienced. There was a difference! Sisters Rodica and Maria busied themselves feeding Andrea, as if fattening her up was as great a task as teaching orphans, which they also did. Andrea stubbornly refused to communicate beyond the occasional âThank you,â in English, but now and then, as she had in the case of Mr. Rabindranath, she delivered an opinion in Hebrew.
But if her mind did not permit her to trust her new home, her body had no such scruples. A week of the good sistersâ ministrations resulted in all sorts of new curves and little plumpnesses where before there had been only skin taut over bone. Her cheeks changed from deathly pale to a marble-pink hue, and her hips and even her behind showed promise of womanliness.
Sister Rodica sometimes felt awkward in Andreaâs presence, particularly when she failed to observe any modesty. The young woman commenced to project an unabashed carnality that wafted off her like attar. She loped like a feline when she walked, and the sweater over the nightgown she sometimes wore to bed was no impediment to her newly assertive breasts. God forgive her, but Sister Rodica acquired a permanent blush. In comparison with Andreaâs troubling young flesh, Mr. Rabindranathâs penisâwhich, since the first incident, had floated into the foyer one other embarrassing timeâwas like a discarded section of garden hose. While watering the conventâs ten thousand roses, Sister Rodica had smiled at the comic hose in her hand. But Andrea was another matter, particularly since the sister had undertaken to teach the Bosnian girl about the life of Christ, a task that required standing close enough to bask in her animal heat.
In reproach to Andreaâs unconscious sensuality, Sister Rodica dwelt unduly long on the story of Mary Magdaleneâs
The major surveyed the sleeping form of his rebellious niece and tried to hold at bay the affection that always threatened at such moments. He could not allow himself the all too human indulgence of sentiment if she was going to fulfill her destiny and his plan. Viewed from above, there really wasnât that much to the girl. She had bony knees, and her long, skinny legs looked like they needed a shave, and her feet needed scrubbing. Her eyes were shut too tight, and her breasts pointed up like two Mongol mini helmets. Even in sleep she seemed coiled up, ready to strike, unable to leave the world completely behind.
âMy angry little Messiah, my Dulcinea-cum-Christ,â murmured Notz, as if that were a dish he might whip up.
Chapter Four
Wherein the sisters of Saint Hildegard Hospice are seen to wonder about the girl Andrea , her habits, and her charm
Although they couldnât say exactly what was wrong with the girl, something clearly was. She was sick. Sometimes she shone as if she had a fever. Her eyes looked past everyone. When he first saw her, Father Hernio pronounced: âI have seen this in the eyes of other youths. She has the virus of indifference!â
Father Hernio had been observing the Shades and neotribals who gathered in Jerusalemâs bohemian coffeehouses. Some of them had bones in their noses and earlobes. Their faces and bodies were sometimes completely covered with tattoos. One man had fifteen bronze studs in his face, like a pincushion. Another had a complete brain tattooed on the surface of his shaved head. And some had what appeared to be an entire body inscribed over their own. These disfigurements, thought the priest, implied a degree of faith in the future. Such skins could certainly not be discarded when the body died. Surely they would be dried and preserved. But the body art also implied an absence of faith in present-day life. In the eyes of these youths Father Hernio detected the virus of indifference.
But the sisters knew that Andrea was not sick from indifference; she was traumatized by what she had seen and experienced. There was a difference! Sisters Rodica and Maria busied themselves feeding Andrea, as if fattening her up was as great a task as teaching orphans, which they also did. Andrea stubbornly refused to communicate beyond the occasional âThank you,â in English, but now and then, as she had in the case of Mr. Rabindranath, she delivered an opinion in Hebrew.
But if her mind did not permit her to trust her new home, her body had no such scruples. A week of the good sistersâ ministrations resulted in all sorts of new curves and little plumpnesses where before there had been only skin taut over bone. Her cheeks changed from deathly pale to a marble-pink hue, and her hips and even her behind showed promise of womanliness.
Sister Rodica sometimes felt awkward in Andreaâs presence, particularly when she failed to observe any modesty. The young woman commenced to project an unabashed carnality that wafted off her like attar. She loped like a feline when she walked, and the sweater over the nightgown she sometimes wore to bed was no impediment to her newly assertive breasts. God forgive her, but Sister Rodica acquired a permanent blush. In comparison with Andreaâs troubling young flesh, Mr. Rabindranathâs penisâwhich, since the first incident, had floated into the foyer one other embarrassing timeâwas like a discarded section of garden hose. While watering the conventâs ten thousand roses, Sister Rodica had smiled at the comic hose in her hand. But Andrea was another matter, particularly since the sister had undertaken to teach the Bosnian girl about the life of Christ, a task that required standing close enough to bask in her animal heat.
In reproach to Andreaâs unconscious sensuality, Sister Rodica dwelt unduly long on the story of Mary Magdaleneâs
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