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The new hope. Part four.
"I have nowhere to go," Adelard told himself so that Percival would not hear. But he did hear.
"Follow me then," he said and walked out of the café, leaving a few coins on the table. The path pointed where the young man was going. His gait was a little clumsy, a little childish. But nonetheless, he walked with confidence and pride. With each step, it was as if he wanted to show that he was proud of himself and that he had nothing to hide. And every time he looked at people passing by, he looked even higher, straight up to the sky.
His upright posture perfectly shows the beauty of his long neck, which bends gracefully. And the profile of his face, as he looks straight ahead, reflects all the beauty around him. So that his little nose becomes even smaller and his big, very black eyes even more expressive. And so it is as if with his gaze he is ready to cut through any disbelief, any bad quality of a person. That's right, his gaze was like the tip of a
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Finally washing and smelling the scent of his soap, Adelard took another deep breath and remembered every corner of his factory. Every sound, every smell, and every look of his employee. He could still hear his shoes beating out a certain rhythm on the iron floor, on the stairs that led him up to his office. He could still see in front of him the way the soap was made. The danger with which everything around him breathed. And as he once more smelled the scent of the soap, he smiled slightly and began to put on what Percival had given him. It was a plain white shirt and black trousers. These clothes smelled of his soap too and when he put on the shirt he felt a kind of luck and heard the rustling of his wings. Yes, they were still behind him."Are you ready?""Yes."Percival came back and looked at him, then picked up a comb and said, "Your hair, let me help.""I can do it myself.""Your hands are shaking Adelard."
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The noisy streets of the city quickly added new emotions to Adelard's eyes. Noisy people, in beautiful clothes, quickly made him forget about Celeste's beautiful dresses. And he was even sure that if he saw her now, he wouldn't care. With that thought, he took a step forward. Walking past houses with patterned walls, past stores that sold all sorts of things, Adelard remembered a time when he and his mother had walked these same streets. Only then, things were different here.After the rain, the tiled asphalt glistened, holding the weariness of the rain. And with every movement of the carriage wheels, every stone on the ground trembled, heading toward the people. First a shudder in the little stones, and then a thunder that made everyone shudder. Lifting their heads up, people angrily opened their umbrellas and moved on. The rain wanted to start dripping, but seeing that everyone was on standby, it moved aside. And as people relaxed and forgot about the bad weather, the
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The sunset after the rain was never as beautiful as it was now. It was a magic that existed beyond words. And what can one say about a sunset? One could go on forever describing how the colors blend together to create illusion and eternal beauty. You can talk forever about the sunset, which pleases the eyes after a hard day. But what can you say about the sunset that graced the day after emotion, pain and happiness? Cities can change twice a day. It is in the morning and in the evening. In the morning, cities can be different. They may even have different colors of houses. In the evening, cities seem to breathe in and take on a whole new hue. For in the evening, everything becomes sincere. Sincerity appears in the eyes of people and even in the air. That is why, in the evening, it is so easy to fall in love and tell the truth. The moment the walls of houses and roofs were decorated with evening sunshine and the puddles on the ground began to glisten with a cold, the desire to speak
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The carriage, with its two black horses, stopped in front of them and in that second it rained heavily. The thunder was louder than ever before. The lightning woke everyone with its brightness, and as the windows in the houses opened with force, a child's cries could be heard. The coachman, trying to calm his horses, looked up at the sky with anger in his eyes, as if offended by nature. But the rain did not stop at his gaze. It only intensified, frightening the horses even more. Shivering with cold, Adelard sat down and put his arms around his shoulders. His whole body trembled and even his teeth banged rhythmically against each other. Noticing this, Percival said, "Your wife hasn't even returned your clothes. I wonder why she needs your clothes?""She's not my wife," Adelard said, feeling anger every time she was called that."That's right. She was never your wife.""Aren't you cold?""No. I rarely feel cold. Mostly, I'm always ho
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"Are you going to stand there all day? Come inside!""So, how do you know each other?" Percival asked again. Adelard continued to stare at them in surprise, thinking that this world really is a very small place. Gaspard looked at Adelard again, and blushing, still said, "You see, I was very ill. I was dying in the street, among the rats. And Monsieur Adelard took me to his house. There, he fed me, brought me back to life. But then, when I started coughing too often and too much, he put me in the hospital. He saved my life. And I will always be grateful for that. Always." His sparkling eyes looked too happy, too much like Percival's eyes. But their conversation was interrupted the moment Orion ran into the house and started jumping on everyone. "Orion! Sit down!"But then, Gaspard just couldn't help himself and asked, "Monsieur Adelard, how do you know my brother?""Brother? He's your brother?!" Adelard exclaimed too loudly."Why ar
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"I have to go see him. I can't just sit around," Adelard said, grabbing his jacket and looking at the door again. After everyone left, the house felt a little cold and lonely. There was a breeze walking around the room, touching the fire in the fireplace. Papers with words crawled slowly along the walls and the table, following the wind. And Percival swayed lazily in his chair, looking at Adelard, who was clearly tormented by his conscience. But he couldn't imagine what was going on in his house, right in his bedroom. He couldn't even imagine what was going on in his room, by candlelight and with his portrait on the wall. Namely that his best friend was sleeping peacefully on his bed while his wife sat beside him, hugging his arm and kissing every finger. He was unaware of the conversation that lasted until they were in bed. The two worlds, existing side by side with each other, nevertheless recalled each other. The luxury, along with the cold, small house, seemed to dance, trying t
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"What's your name?" Nicholas asked, looking at him."Percival.""How's he doing?" Nicholas asked as if Adelard wasn't here."He's having a hard time. But he's smiling. He tries to smile. Though every smile is like a sharp knife.""Where did you find him?""I found him at the inn. His baby was sick and I found him at the moment when the two voices sounded in intense crying.""Does he live with you now?""Yes.""Where? What kind of house do you have and what kind of work do you do?""In a village. Not far from Paris. I am a writer. I make a living at it. I write articles for the newspaper and sometimes stories for children. It's enough to buy food and clothes.""What kind of house do you have?""Just an ordinary house. There are only two rooms. But the rooms are big and the house is warm.""How old are you?""Thirty."&
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