"viktor_pelevin_-_sigmund_in_a_cafe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pelevin Viktor)

was going to mount on top of it the last brick, the sides of which showed a
branch of an orange tree and a firepost. The boy lifted his head and shook
his fist at her, to which she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue --
she held it out for so long that one could perhaps examine it in all detail.
-- Aha, -- said Sigmund and looked at the whiskered man and the lady.
They already had the appetizers served to them. The gentleman was
swallowing the oysters, knowingly opening their shells with a small silver
knife, and was telling something to his companion, who was smiling, nodding
and eating mushrooms -- she would take them with a two-toothed fork one by
one from the plate and scrutinize them before dipping in a thick yellow
sauce. The gentleman, clinking with the bottle on the brim of his glass,
poured himself some white wine, drank it and moved the soup bowl closer to
himself.
The waiter brought a plate with a long fried fish. The lady looked at
the fish and suddenly smacked herself on the forehead and started telling
something to the gentleman. He looked at her, listened to her for a while
and grimaced doubtfully, then drank another glass of wine and started
carefully putting a cigarette into a conical red cigarette holder, which he
held between his little finger and his ring finger.
--Aha! -- said Sigmund and stared at the far corner of the room, where
the hostess, the barkeeper's wife, stood with a stocky waiter.
It was dark there, or rather it was darker than in other corners,
because the lightbulb under the ceiling was burnt out. The hostess was
staring up with her plump hands on her hips; because of her pose and her
apron with colorful zigzags she resembled an ancient vase. The waiter has
already fetched a long folding ladder, which stood now beside an empty
table. The hostess checked that the ladder was sturdy enough, scratched her
head ponderously and said something to the waiter. He turned and went around
the bar counter, then stooped behind it and was not seen for a while. After
a minute, he emerged from behind the counter and showed to the hostess an
elongated, shining object. She nodded energetically, and the waiter came
back to her with the found flashlight in his raised hand. He wanted to give
it to her, but she shook her head and pointed her finger to the floor.
There was a large square hatch in the floor beside the empty table. It
was almost invisible because its lid was covered with the same parquet
diamonds as the rest of the floor, and one could suspect its existence only
from the double border line of thin copper which crossed the intricate
parquet patterns, and from the inlaid copper ring.
The waiter meticulously pulled his pants at the knees, squatted,
grabbed the ring and with one powerful tug opened the hatch. The hostess
grimaced and shifted. The waiter looked at her questioningly, but she
energetically nodded again, and he started climbing down. Apparently, there
was a ladder beneath the floor, as he sank into the blackness of the square
in short jerks, one for each invisible step. At first he held the lid
himself, but as he descended lower, the hostess helped him by leaning
forward and grasping the lid with her two hands, and staring intently into
the dark hole where the waiter went.
After a while the waiter's white coat, rather dirty from cobwebs and
dust, appeared again above the floor. He got out, resolutely closed the
hatch and moved to the ladder, but the hostess stopped him and turned him