Harlequin's Millions Read Online Free PDF

his hand and gave a sign to Mr. Otokar Rykr, who placed his hand on his chest and declaimed … Jiří Votava, Pařižek and Šimon would sometimes sneak into town in the evening, the next morning they would return from their noble pastime with bruised cheeks … This became known and they were given a sound thrashing by the Count. Šimon was not at all pleased about this, and received another thrashing for his insolence. The servant Simplex, a half-wit, got a beating when he refused to dance on command. And another because he had stolen abite of cheese and a sip of wine. The Count gave a two-hour lecture to a huntsman from Kostomlaty because he had ruined the wild goose hunt. The Count forbade swearing, and any incorrigible blasphemer who took God’s name in vain was ordered to have his mouth stuffed with three spoonfuls of axle grease. If the Count saw someone lighting a fire at the game preserve, there was hell to pay. Sighing deeply, Mr. Otokar Rykr looked at his friends, he could go no further, one of them would have to continue. Mr. Výborný now gave himself a sign with both hands as he had to the others and went on cheerfully … Count Špork had noticed that one of the shutters on the town’s schoolhouse was hanging from a single hook and immediately ordered the schoolmaster to sit on a wooden donkey outside the old town hall while the people jeered at him, Father Pabienský chose to leave the little town rather than suffer any longer under the Count, and so the Count died here, in this castle, and on the thirtieth of March, seventeen-hundred-and-thirty-eight … Mr. Výborný paused, looked around, gave a sign with both hands and the three put their heads together and chanted, in chorus … death was the great leveler! And so they concluded their performance, these three witnesses to old times, their heads together, eyes closed, and I, who have acted for thirty years in the local playhouse and been onstage more than six hundred times with the Hálek dramaclub, I clapped my hands, because I’d never seen a performance quite like this, without a single rehearsal, just like that and just for me. When they lifted their heads and looked at me expectantly, I held out my arms and they all three grabbed my hand, they looked at me and beamed, as if they had found in me and because of me a reason to tell the story they had told so many times and hadn’t had a single reason to tell again, I was a source of inspiration and a good excuse for them to show off, to brag about what they knew … That evening, directly after supper, these witnesses to old times invited me to go with them for a walk. The wind shook the boughs of the trees and the branches rustled as if each twig had a flag fluttering on the end of it. When we walked through the gate and strode down the lane, the branches scraped together and intertwined and the wood moaned and groaned like old skiffs and fishing boats in a harbor. The wind blew off the river, carrying the acrid smell of chemicals. The three old men were silent because we were walking through a suburb, tall sodium lamps cast their yellow light over the streets and roads, the houses and passersby. But we ourselves were the only passersby, there weren’t even any cars or motorcycles. As we walked past the windows, I saw the blue glow of a television here and there through the curtains, they were probably broadcasting an important soccer match, because the viewers were shouting, thousands ofviewers burst into cheers. When we reached Starý Vala, Mr. Kořínek led us down a quiet side street. Here, gas lamps glowed among the sheltering leaves, the low houses were separated from the road by tall fences, but you could still see the blue screens through the cracks. And below us flowed our dear old Elbe, she wallowed in filth, tin cans and broken glass glittered in her murky depths. And across from us