The Antiquarian Read Online Free PDF

getting older, and we don’t need the money. The years pass by, and we don’t have the same interests as before. Let the new generations deal with him!”
    â€œI hope you don’t expect me to go about things like those new generations who brought your business back from the brink.”
    Samuel looked at his friend in disbelief. He made his disgust clear with a loud blow of his fist on the metal table, releasing all of his rage, and drawing looks from the otherpatrons in the café. “I never would have thought that talking with the Frenchman could upset you enough to make you forget your manners,” said Samuel, now struggling to contain his anger.
    Artur stroked his earlobe again before answering. He knew he had offended his friend and colleague by reminding him of the tough times his business had been through a few years ago—tough times that got easier once he had partnered up with Mariola Puigventós. And yet, a strange pride that wasn’t tameable kept him from apologizing a third time. He felt possessed by a guilty sadness.
    â€œYou may not want to hear it, but the fact is your business wasn’t prospering either, and the only thing that saved you from ruin was bringing Mariola on board. If I never ended my dealings with the Frenchman it was because they provided a steady income that covered my costs and let me focus my antiques business on what I was really interested in. When you decided to cut him off, you knew what was at stake. You took the risk and came very close to failing. But … but the years take their toll, and I have the feeling that every word I’m saying is gibberish.” He regretted what he’d said. “Maybe you’re right. I should quit. My time has come and I refuse to admit it. Perhaps I should retire not just from these jobs, but maybe it’s time to close shop once and for all.”
    Samuel looked at him, surprised, allowing melancholy to take the place of anger. It was pointless to argue with his old friend over something that, after all, was true.
    â€œWell, don’t worry. Really, I doubt anything will come of it. He’ll forget about it as soon as he calms down from his tantrum.”
    â€œYou’re right, better just to forget it.”
    The two regarded each other, and silence once again settled over them. They had uttered painful truths. Artur felt that an invisible wall now kept them apart, because ofhis precipitation and tactlessness. Contrite, but lacking the courage to admit his error, he took cover behind a feigned indifference.
    â€œI have to go and open the shop,” said Samuel. “Like I told you, Mariola won’t be back until late. By the way, I almost forgot, if you’re up for some fun, Mariola said to remind you of the meeting her father is hosting at Boulevard dels Antiquaris.”
    â€œI won’t be going.” Artur usually steered clear of the antiques community’s social scene, and in the peculiar circumstances he was living through at the time, the last thing he wanted was to see colleagues, whose mere presence would only remind him of the menacing figure of the Frenchman. “I have too much work to do to waste time at a social event. If I spend the whole weekend classifying the collection, maybe I’ll have it done by Monday. Give them my apologies, will you? And tell old man Puigventós and his beautiful daughter what’s tying me up; he’ll understand.”
    â€œI’ll do that, but Mariola won’t be happy. She’s already upset with you because you never go to these events. When it’s not one thing it’s another. And you know how highly she thinks of you.”
    â€œFirst things first. And there could be nothing more fun than that.”
    â€œSee you Monday, then.”
    They got up. Artur paid the check, leaving a generous tip. Then, without shaking hands, each man walked back to his place of business.
    The afternoon saw a steady