“We were waiting for Madame Hortense today so that she could join us in celebrating the resurrection. We had roasted lamb on the spit, had prepared stuffed lamb intestines as an appetizer, and spread a white sheet on the sand, and had dyed some eggs. Zorba and I, half in jest, half with emotion, had agreed to accord her a grand reception today. When present on our isolated beach, this paunchy, sweetly odoriferous, somewhat rotting siren exerted a strange fascination on us in spite of ourselves. In her absence something was missing: an aroma like eau de cologne, a red colour, a waddling gait resembling a duck’s, a more or less husky voice, and two acidic, discolored eyes.”
Nikos Kazantzakis, “Zorba the Greek”, 1952
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