Her firm girl's body
emanated a supreme vitality. It was neither tall nor short, its movements
nor graceful nor awkward. It came and went with a certain sexual
velocity, a velocity whose health and vigour made everyone in La Ferte
seem puny and old. Her deep sensual voice had a coarse richness. Her
face, dark and young, annihilated easily the ancient and greyish walls.
Her wonderful hair was shockingly black. Her perfect teeth, when she
smiled, reminded you of an animal. The cult of Isis never worshipped a
more deep luxurious smile. This face, framed in the night of its hair,
seemed (as it moved at the window overlooking the _cour des femmes_)
inexorably and colossally young. The body was absolutely and fearlessly
alive. In the impeccable and altogether admirable desolation of La Ferte
and the Normandy Autumn Celina, easily and fiercely moving, was a
kinesis.
The French Government must have already recognized this; it called her
incorrigible.
Lena, also a Belgian, always and fortunately just missed being a type
which in the American language (sometimes called "Slang") has a definite
nomenclature. Lena had the makings of an ordinary broad, and yet, thanks
to _La Misere_, a certain indubitable personality became gradually
rescued.
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