Червоне та чорне

A Capital

           

           Twogamesofbilliardswereinprogress.Thewaiterswerecryingoutthescores.Theplayersranroundthetablesencumberedbyspectators.Cloudsoftobaccosmokecamefromeverybody’smouth,andenvelopedtheminabluehaze.Thehighstatureofthesemen,theirroundedshoulders,theirheavygait,theirenormouswhiskers,thelongtailedcoatswhichcoveredthem,everythingcombinedtoattractJulien’sattention.ThesenoblechildrenoftheantiqueBisontiumonlyspokeatthetopoftheirvoice.Theygavethemselvesterriblemartialairs.Julienstoodstillandadmiredthem.HekeptthinkingoftheimmensityandmagnificenceofagreatcapitallikeBesançon.Hefeltabsolutelydevoidoftherequisitecouragetoaskoneofthosehaughtylookinggentlemen,whowerecryingoutthebilliardscores,foracupofcoffee.

           Buttheyoungladyatthebarhadnoticedthecharmingfaceofthisyoungcivilianfromthecountry,whohadstoppedthreefeetfromthestovewithhislittleparcelunderhisarm,andwaslookingatthefinewhiteplasterbustoftheking.Thisyounglady,abigFranc-comtoise,verywellmade,anddressedwiththeelegancesuitabletotheprestigeofthecafé,hadalreadysaidtwoorthreetimesinalittlevoicenotintendedtobeheardbyanyoneexceptJulien,"Monsieur,Monsieur."Julien’seyesencounteredbigblueeyesfulloftenderness,andsawthathewasthepersonwhowasbeingspokento.

           Hesharplyapproachedthebarandtheprettygirl,asthoughhehadbeenmarchingtowardstheenemy.Inthisgreatmanœuvretheparcelfell.

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Roboto Lora
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