Harlequin's Millions Read Online Free PDF Page B

stretched the town ramparts, every hundred yards was a crumbling tower, from here, Cavalry Street, the little houses looked as if they had been glued to the embankment, they were built right into the old red walls. Each house was different, probably because the people who had built them had been too poor to build them any other way. We walked on, slowly, here and there the light from the gas lamps illuminated a farmhouse, windows, terraced gardens, rabbit hutches, goat sheds, concrete patios, washhouses, trees and red-currant and gooseberry bushes, which looked as unhealthy as our dear old Elbe. We crossed the bridge and walked through the streets, into the wind, the streets were deserted, I looked all around but didn’t see a soul, not on Cavalry Street, not on Eliška Street, from house to house all you could hear was the jubilant voice of the sports commentator reporting on some international soccer match and the vocal cords of certainly more than thirty thousand spectators, voices that flowed together into one greatroar. When we walked through an alleyway toward the main road, the wind, which blew through the square whipping scraps of paper into mounds and scattering the contents of overturned trash cans, now chased all that garbage through the alleyway toward us. We turned around and walked backward until we reached the main street and after a few steps the wind died down. And the three witnesses to old times threw their arms in the air, delighted, I thought, that we had scored a goal, because the cheers of the viewers and the commentator had united all the televisions in the little town, and every house and every household has a television, so that the whole town was united by the soccer match. And on we walked, our arms raised, into the empty square, the windows of Hotel Na Knížecí were dimly lit, in each window a television beamed brightly, as if the moon were rising in the distance, waiters in white jackets stood motionlessly and gazed at a television screen, but in the square there wasn’t a soul in sight. The plague column with the statue of the Virgin Mary was lit by four cast-iron lamps, gas lamps from the last century, at the base of the column were the statues of four saints who looked as if they were dancing. Mr. Rykr put on his pince-nez, smoothed down his pomaded hair, which clung to his scalp like a black bathing cap, and said in a low voice, his eyes on his two friends, who were standing by like two star witnessessworn to testify, they listened intently, now and again they gave their friend a nod to let him know they agreed with what he had said … In the eighteen-sixties, spoke Mr. Rykr, one hand held lightly to his throat, this little town had three thousand five hundred residents and three hundred forty houses, it was a provincial town lying in the exceptionally fertile Elbe Valley, where ears of wheat ripened in the sun, and flax for linseed oil. Wagoners would come down from the surrounding mountains to stock up on barley, flour, millet, lentils and peas. In addition to the wealthy grain dealers, of which there were twelve in those days, there were also three tinsmiths, twenty-six tailors, two cutlers, five furriers … The other two witnesses to old times suddenly grew stern, they held up their hands and cried out one after the other … Six! Mr. Rykr thought about this for a moment and then corrected himself, blushing slightly … Six furriers, three potters … Mr. Kořínek held up his hand and interrupted in a high, jubilant voice … Potter Štolba had his pottery workshop right near the Bobnitzer Gate and one of his glazed milk jugs, decorated with scenes from rural life, has been preserved to this day … He stepped back, took a bow and waved to his friend to continue, I hung on their every word, I was amazed that I hadn’t known any of this, everything I heard was, at least for now, the most beautiful