Отрывок из книги
Anonymous
Published by Good Press, 2021
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Here merchants do not name the shops after themselves, as Americans do, but more modestly and tastefully. The shop is christened with a name of its own, as in Europe. For instance, on one corner you have Pobre Diablo (Poor Devil), and on the corner opposite Rico Diablo (Rich Devil); then we have all the saints—and sinners—in the Calendar, so that the shop can change hands without losing its identity. Shops containing magnificent goods have often a very humble appearance, because ladies do not walk the streets, or leave their volantes—those darling volantes, which are their feet, their couches, their homes, the body of which they are the soul, and which I have many times seen standing, much at home, in the corners of their parlors! So all the goods are kept in great boxes, and carried out to the volantes, where my lady condescends to sit in state and in attire to inspect, and, without knowing it, to pay twice the value of all she buys.
On coming home, we took another turn in the Plaza de Armas, where festivities still continue. We are fortunate to be here at this time, for it is a continual holiday, and will be so nearly all of next week. Illuminations of all sorts, fine bands of music, awnings and flags of red and yellow,—the national colors of Spain,—carriages and volantes full of richly-dressed people, promenaders in Sunday-costume—all these are to be met in every street of the city. I have been much amused at promiscuous Moors in effigy, hanging out of the windows, in the centre of huge doorways, or dangling from a cord over our heads in the middle of the street. They are usually in full Moorish costume, and pierced pathetically through the heart. Our driver flourished his whip vigorously in passing, mostly ending by a patriotic cut at the devoted images.
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