The Dogs and the Wolves Read Online Free PDF Page A

their house, warmed by the sun. She had built a little hut of dead leaves and branches behind them, no higher than a molehill, and she imagined it was their house, that they’d come outside to rest in the sunshine and that they would go back inside when it got dark. She made a crown of yellow daisies and placed it on the head of the savage idol; the daisies had dark centres and a bitter smell. Then she climbed up on to the shoulders of the old god of storms and stroked him, as if he were a dog, but she soon got bored.
    She went and tugged on Lilla’s skirt. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s go for a walk.’
    Lilla sighed. She was too gentle and soft to oppose Ada for long. She wished she could bribe her with sweets or those red balloons called ‘mother-in-laws’ tongues’ which made a shrill noise when you let the air out. But Ada wasn’t to be bought off with promises, and neither Lilla nor her boyfriend had any money left.
    They left their mossy, leafy hiding place in the Botanical Gardens and headed up towards the top of the hill.
    The houses were so beautiful! Ada had never been there before. She went up to each of the high, closed gates and looked at the large gardens planted with lime trees. Every now and again, a horse and carriage passed by. Everything here radiated wealth and calm. In front of one of the gilded gates, Ada saw a carriage stop. A young boy the same age as Ben came out of the house, accompanied by a woman. Ada had never before seen anyone dressed like that. All the boys she knew wore school uniforms, or shabby clothes if they lived in the Jewish quarter. This boy wore a suit of light beige silk and a large fine linen collar, but his resemblance to Ben was so striking: he had the same black curls, fine nose, long, delicate neck – too long: it tilted forward and made him look like a curious bird – and the same wide eyes, simultaneously bright and misty, like a light burning in oil . . . She grabbed Lilla’s hand and, at a loss for words, nodded towards the boy. The carriage pulled away.
    ‘They’re the Sinners,’ said Lilla’s friend. Then he looked at her and said, ‘They have the same last name as you, don’t they? Are you related?’
    ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so,’ murmured Lilla, blushing at the thought of the difference between this house and hers in the lower town.
    ‘They’re rich Jews,’ the boy said, sounding both respectful and mocking, a strange and subtle mixture of emotions that even Ada, small as she was, could identify. ‘The kid’s name is Harry.’
    He put his arm around Lilla’s waist.
    ‘Cover your eyes and count to a hundred,’ he ordered Ada.
    Ada obeyed. Lilla and the boy kissed for a long time. Ada watched them through her fingers. Then she got bored; she climbed on to a stone and looked through the gate at the spacious, aristocratic house with its columns and shady lime trees.
    Until this moment she’d been happy simply to take in what was going on around her with the natural curiosity of an intelligent child. Looking at the outside world had never brought her any particular pleasure. Now, however, she suddenly felt it. Sweet and deep, it pierced her like an arrow. For the first time, she truly saw the lovely colour of the sky, lilac and pistachio green, like sorbet; a yellowish moon, pale and round, without a halo, hovered there in the daylight. And on the horizon she could see soft, fluffy little clouds rushing by; they looked as if the moon was breathing them in, absorbing them. Ada had never seen anything quite as beautiful as that sky. Ada had never seen anything quite as beautiful as the Sinners’ house. Evening was falling. She looked up at the windows where the lights were being lit, and tried to guess which one was Harry’s room. She decided it was the one on the right that shone as brightly as a star. She pressed her cheek against the iron bars of the gate.
    ‘Harry . . . Harry . . . Harry . . .’ she whispered.
    She felt