Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія

           NowitwasPhelpsandhismotherfromLosMuertos,nowaforemanfromBroderson’swithhisfamily,nowagaylyapparelledclerkfromaBonnevillestore,solitaryandbewildered,lookingforaplacetoputhishat,nowacoupleofSpanish-MexicangirlsfromGuadalajarawithcoquettisheffectsofblackandyellowabouttheirdress,nowagroupofOsterman’stenants,Portuguese,swarthy,withplasteredhairandcurledmustaches,redolentofcheapperfumes.Sarriaarrived,hissmooth,shinyfaceglisteningwithperspiration.Heworeanewcassockandcarriedhisbroad-brimmedhatunderhisarm.Hisappearancemadequiteastir.Hepassedfromgrouptogroup,urbane,affable,shakinghandsrightandleft;heassumedasetsmileofamiabilitywhichneverlefthisfacethewholeevening.

           Butabruptlytherewasaveritablesensation.FromoutthelittlecrowdthatpersistentlyhuddledaboutthedoorwaycameOsterman.Heworeadress-suitwithawhitewaistcoatandpatentleatherpumps—whatawonder!Alittlequalmofexcitementspreadaroundthebarn.Oneexchangednudgesoftheelbowwithone’sneighbour,whisperingearnestlybehindthehand.Whatastonishingclothes!Catchontothecoat-tails!Itwasamasqueradecostume,maybe;thatgoatOstermanwassuchajosher,onenevercouldtellwhathewoulddonext.

           Themusiciansbegantotuneup.Fromtheircornercameamedleyofmellowsounds,thesubduedchirpsoftheviolins,thedullbourdonofthebassviol,theliquidgurglingoftheflageoletandthedeep-tonedsnarlofthebighorn,withnowandthenaraspingstridulatingofthesnaredrum.