A strange impression was made by these ruins of times of the Roman dominion by ancient Lutetia which got lost among houses of Latin quarter. Ranks of stone half-ruined benches on which the audience once clapped, enjoying bloody entertainments, black failures of adits where hungry animals before an exit to the arena growled… And around such usual, boring Parisian houses, with the wood of pipes on roofs and hundreds of windows, it is indifferent looking at pathetic ruins of former greatness…
Travelers stopped.
Them was three: Anatole, the boy of years of ten, thin, dark-haired, with the stiffened question in sad eyes; his uncle Bernard de Troyes, «the silk king», and his wife Clothilda. Only Clothilda’s persistence forced her husband to give up urgent affairs and to undertake this «scientific expedition» – a new whim of the young woman who was fond of archeology.
Madam de Troyes, appear, was fascinated by a show. Her thin nostrils shuddered. Several times the nervous movement of a hand it put the disobedient lock of a nutbrown hair which was beaten out from under the gray silk hat decorated with a little white bird in order.
– It is necessary to force to tell these stones! – she exclaimed at last. – We made a mistake. We should arrive at night when the moon shines. The moon will bring shades of the past to life, and before us magic pictures will be developed. We will hear sounds букцин – the Roman military pipes. One their thunderous roar brought into flight of enemies… Pipes will begin to sound, and in reply to them the roar of the hungry animals who scented human meat will be distributed, and we will see how Caesar… ah… oh…
Clotilda de Troyes desperately screamed. The unexpected event interrupted poetic flight of her imagination.
Some person of years of twenty five, high, put as Hercules, with a fair-haired small beard and moustaches on a bronze face, imperceptibly crept to it and the bystry movement broke a white bird from her hat, broke off it on small pieces, bewildered began to touch fingers cotton wool shreds which filled a bird.
His eyes… Despite all fright, Clothilda could not but notice these eyes, their extraordinary blueness, brightness. In them some strange fire burned. It was no madness fire, but at the same time in eyes there was something strange that she never had to meet In them vigilance of an animal and naivety of the child. It would be possible to call a face of the stranger beautiful if not outstanding nadbrovny arches, deeply put eyes and wide nostrils. It was without hat the Long and thick fair hair covered his head.
