The Riddle of the River Read Online Free Page A

Chinese; a collection of boxes, some of fragrant carved wood and others of gaily inlaid stone, decorated the surface of the counter, and the glass case underneath contained a selection of heavy silver jewellery, necklaces and earrings set with large turquoises. Perching my elbows amongst the things, I leant towards her in a confidential manner and slipped the bracelet off my wrist.
    ‘May I ask you a question?’ I said engagingly, trying to meet her eyes, for she seemed vaguely absent even as she prepared courteously to come to my assistance.
    ‘Certainly, ma’am,’ she replied without any show of interest. I imagined her forced, no doubt, into a tedious and wearisome job by the economic straits of a struggling family, and nourishing secret dreams of rising in life to some higher position, thanks, perhaps, to nothing more than her waistmeasurement. I felt tempted to talk to her about herself rather than about the bracelet, but I did not want to annoy her needlessly or to waste time, and I was afraid another customer might arrive at any moment. So I simply reached out with the bracelet and showed it to her.
    ‘Do you recognise this? Could it have come from here?’ I asked. ‘Is it possible that you sold it yourself?’
    She took it, examined it closely, letting it run through her fingers a moment, while I thought of the many negative answers she might give: never saw it before, was not working here during the Chinese sale, couldn’t say. Then, unexpectedly, she nodded.
    ‘Yes, I think so. This was among the collection of Chinese bracelets we had here a week or two ago. I am almost certain that I remember it. It is so pretty – look how it is carved. Each bead is hollow and the surface is carved with tiny flowers, or perhaps it is just ivory lace. It is incredible to be able to make such things. Most of the other bracelets were made of a single piece; this was the most exquisite and complicated one. Some of the others still remain,’ she added, searching a key out of a drawer and unlocking the cupboard which was low behind the counter, at the level of her knees. ‘We keep the things for the next time we bring out Chinese goods,’ she explained, taking out some items and setting them in front of me. ‘It is not good to allow the public to become tired of the same things, or used to them, or to see that they are not sold. They must think that everything disappeared very quickly.’ She smiled again, her kind, disillusioned smile. I looked at the bangle she held out to me, and at a decorative object in a circular glass window. I had not noticed these things particularly when I had visited the sale, but now I was unableto take my eyes off the almost unbelievably intricate carving protected between the two glass discs. A pagoda stood on a rock, trees made of inexpressibly delicate needles surrounded it, and a stork pointed its threadlike beak into the air. The whole scene seemed to have been created by the hands of fairies, not the thick, clumsy fingers of men (even Chinese ones, whose fingers must be lighter and quicker than our own). I stared into the magic disc, entranced.
    ‘May I buy this?’ I said suddenly.
    ‘It is not for sale now,’ she said. ‘I am not allowed to take out these things and sell them.’ She glanced around nervously, for her superior, no doubt, but the shop was functioning peacefully, each lady busy with her own stock, and nobody was watching us.
    ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘I will come back and buy it the next time you have Chinese things.’
    ‘I should like to sell it to you, since you want it,’ she said softly. ‘It is beautiful, isn’t it? I also look at it sometimes. I look at it quite often, when I am here alone. It is even more delicate and miraculous than the bracelet.’
    ‘Keep it for me,’ I said. ‘I will buy it some day, and in the meantime you can go on looking at it.’ I looked at her sober dress, and felt for a moment how it must be to see, touch and