This preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.
Unformatted text preview: oned quais. He loved it. He missed the bright light of Italy. This was a dimmer place, northern, like Paris, but that was all right. Inside were warm fires, and soft couches and chairs for dozing; firm beds, and lots of good food. The streets of Amsterdam pleased him, because the many old houses of the i6oos were built right against each other, making long stretches of solid and beautiful facades. He liked the steep gables of the houses. He liked the elm trees. He liked the clean-smelling clothing he was given, and he came to even like the cold. People with cheerful faces came and went from the Motherhouse. There was steady day-to-day talk of the Elders, though who these people were, Yuri didn't know. "You want to a ride a bike, Yuri?" asked Aaron. Yuri tried it. Taking his cue from the other riders young and old, he rode the bike like a demon through the streets. Still Yuri wouldn't talk. Then, after constant prodding, he told the story of the maharaja. "No. Tell me what really happened," asked Aaron. "Why should I tell you anything?" Yuri demanded. "I don't know why I came here with you.&quo...
View Full Document
This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10