commotion. The whole market-place was palpitating with life.
Lucas sauntered about, full of wonder and delight. All the turmoil seemed strange to him, but, at the same time, in the deepest recesses of his memory it was also familiar. He stopped by every group to try to hear what they were saying, and laughed happily when somebody caught him by the arm, offering him flowers, meat or whatnot for sale, asking him what he wanted, trying to discover his needs and his tastes, and using every Âpossible artifice to inveigle him into buying and bargaining. He felt that everything that was taking place around him was a game, which he either knew, or thought he knew, because he grasped its meaning immediatelyâa childish, passionately eager game full of cunning and art, a game of looking into each otherâs hearts and guessing what was inside them, a game full of excitement, anger and bright good cheer, eternally alluring and gloriously entertaining.
He watched the craftsmen squatting before their open shops. They sat either in their doorways or on the pavement, surrounded by their wares, talking, shouting, laughing and chastising or fondling their children. Whenever the refrain of a song was wafted toward them, they would join in, as though, being lovers of order, they must perforce mend and patch up the snatches of melody torn from the general uproar, or felt it incumbent upon them to use the conductorâs baton. But this did not prevent them from working both fast and skillfully. Lucas smiled back when they smiled up at him, and answered them when they addressed him eagerly as though they were picking up the threads of a conversation that had just been interrupted.
At one shop-door he caught sight of a gleaming array of figures. Closely packed, one above another, were numbers of small statues, goblets, dishes, busts, miniature columns, and all kinds of splendid vessels, in dazzling white plaster, shining tin, dark gold bronze, or ruddy copper. There were also a few pieces in veined marble that looked quite lifelike. Shining through the darkness of the shop and standing outlined in the twilight of the room, a dim, eloquent array of forms and figures, they loomed through the narrow opening of the door like riches bursting out of a cornucopia and falling at Lucasâs feet. He halted, filled with such surprise and delight that at first his eyes could only stray in helpless bewilderment over the mass of forms, heads and ornaments. It took some time before he could really see and distinguish individual objects.
There stood a graceful Pallas, not more than seventeen inches high, but the majestic pose of the figure had an impelling grace that charmed him. Close by, on a copper basin, a beautifully chased lionâs head thrust its muzzle toward him. Further on a slender silver goblet rose to view, flaunting its luxurious arms and bearing its molded cover like a crown. Figures of women stood delicately sinuous, with arms gracefully uplifted supporting a marble shell. There was also a bronze Perseus, holding the Gorgonâs head in his outstretched hand.
Lucas was lost in admiration as he examined it. He noticed how an expression of faint physical revulsion and one of triumphant pride struggled for mastery in the noble, boyish features of the Perseus. Lucas Âtrembled with delight to think that such marvels of art existed, that at last he was in the country where they were created, and that he could understand them with the consummate ease with which a man understands his mother tongue. So that was Perseus! And that was the right way to fashion him, with that conflict of feeling expressed in his face that made him seem so real! Lucas felt that an important secret had been revealed to him.
Some force, of which he suddenly became conscious, compelled him to turn away from the Perseus. In the narrow doorway stood a man, looking intently at him. He was a young fellow with curly black hair, and before him on a high
Lucas sauntered about, full of wonder and delight. All the turmoil seemed strange to him, but, at the same time, in the deepest recesses of his memory it was also familiar. He stopped by every group to try to hear what they were saying, and laughed happily when somebody caught him by the arm, offering him flowers, meat or whatnot for sale, asking him what he wanted, trying to discover his needs and his tastes, and using every Âpossible artifice to inveigle him into buying and bargaining. He felt that everything that was taking place around him was a game, which he either knew, or thought he knew, because he grasped its meaning immediatelyâa childish, passionately eager game full of cunning and art, a game of looking into each otherâs hearts and guessing what was inside them, a game full of excitement, anger and bright good cheer, eternally alluring and gloriously entertaining.
He watched the craftsmen squatting before their open shops. They sat either in their doorways or on the pavement, surrounded by their wares, talking, shouting, laughing and chastising or fondling their children. Whenever the refrain of a song was wafted toward them, they would join in, as though, being lovers of order, they must perforce mend and patch up the snatches of melody torn from the general uproar, or felt it incumbent upon them to use the conductorâs baton. But this did not prevent them from working both fast and skillfully. Lucas smiled back when they smiled up at him, and answered them when they addressed him eagerly as though they were picking up the threads of a conversation that had just been interrupted.
At one shop-door he caught sight of a gleaming array of figures. Closely packed, one above another, were numbers of small statues, goblets, dishes, busts, miniature columns, and all kinds of splendid vessels, in dazzling white plaster, shining tin, dark gold bronze, or ruddy copper. There were also a few pieces in veined marble that looked quite lifelike. Shining through the darkness of the shop and standing outlined in the twilight of the room, a dim, eloquent array of forms and figures, they loomed through the narrow opening of the door like riches bursting out of a cornucopia and falling at Lucasâs feet. He halted, filled with such surprise and delight that at first his eyes could only stray in helpless bewilderment over the mass of forms, heads and ornaments. It took some time before he could really see and distinguish individual objects.
There stood a graceful Pallas, not more than seventeen inches high, but the majestic pose of the figure had an impelling grace that charmed him. Close by, on a copper basin, a beautifully chased lionâs head thrust its muzzle toward him. Further on a slender silver goblet rose to view, flaunting its luxurious arms and bearing its molded cover like a crown. Figures of women stood delicately sinuous, with arms gracefully uplifted supporting a marble shell. There was also a bronze Perseus, holding the Gorgonâs head in his outstretched hand.
Lucas was lost in admiration as he examined it. He noticed how an expression of faint physical revulsion and one of triumphant pride struggled for mastery in the noble, boyish features of the Perseus. Lucas Âtrembled with delight to think that such marvels of art existed, that at last he was in the country where they were created, and that he could understand them with the consummate ease with which a man understands his mother tongue. So that was Perseus! And that was the right way to fashion him, with that conflict of feeling expressed in his face that made him seem so real! Lucas felt that an important secret had been revealed to him.
Some force, of which he suddenly became conscious, compelled him to turn away from the Perseus. In the narrow doorway stood a man, looking intently at him. He was a young fellow with curly black hair, and before him on a high
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