Читать книгу Modern Swedish Masterpieces: Short Stories онлайн
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Someone asked, “Who is this Mr. Fant?”
“He has invented something—a gas-burner, I believe. He is already on the way to make a fortune.”
“But did you see,” said the man with the foreign order, “did you see that he has a blue anchor tattooed on one hand?”
They suddenly burst into guffaws.
II
He sauntered back and forth through the rooms. He went out into the corridor. A couple of Knights of Vasa were sitting on the wood-box talking about business while they gesticulated with two big cigars, on which they had left the labels. They grew silent as he passed.
He came into a greenish room that was half dark. From the roof on a narrow cord hung a single electric light, its glow shaded by blue and green fringes. On a dressing-table with a marble top an old Chinese mandarin of porcelain sat sleeping on his crossed legs.
How strangely far off the music sounded, as if from underneath!
He set the mandarin’s head in motion with a little punch of his little finger. Two mirrors repeated in unending succession the pale and lethargic nods of the yellow head.