??163: Chapter 117 Farewell to Cambridge Again_2
163: Chapter 117 Farewell to Cambridge Again_2
Eld sighed with relief, “Arthur, you’re always so considerate of your friends.”
Arthur shook his head, “No, Eld, you think too highly of .
It’s not for you that I do this but for myself.
I just don’t want to still see you in Hell after I die.”
Eld looked a bit displeased, “Arthur, you son of a bitch!
What have I done to offend you?
Do you dislike
that much?
Drinking, watching plays—when have I not brought you along?”
Arthur appeared sowhat helpless, “No, no, Eld, there is no problem with our friendship.
I just don’t want the devils in Hell to mock , saying, ‘Look everyone, that guy standing over there—his friend went to Hell because of a fish.’
Eld, if you’re set on going to Hell after you die, I’ll have to make an effort to get to Heaven.”
Eld rolled his eyes at this and gave Arthur’s shoulder a direct punch, “You’re sothing else!
I must clarify once again, I did not have any relations with a fish.
I was just trying to explain the special customs of sailors to you.”
Having said that, Eld quickly changed the subject, “Speaking of which, what brought you to Greenwich today?
Aren’t you working at Greater London Police Departnt headquarters now?
Did you co here today to reminisce about your past impoverished self?”
Seeing that he did not want to continue on that topic, Arthur went along with it, “I’m here to find a gentleman who runs a musical instrunt shop in Greenwich; he will also be one of the shining stars at the Sunday banquet.”
Arthur stuck his head out to look outside the carriage window and said to the coachman, “Please stop here; we can walk the rest of the way ourselves.”
After saying this, Arthur opened the carriage door and, taking Eld with him, they crossed the muddy streets and crowded throngs of people post-rain.
They passed by the apartnt that the real estate agent had previously shown them, and not far away stood a three-story red brick house with a brown cedar shingle roof.
Next to the red door fronting the street, there leaned a signboard that read—Three generations of heritage, top quality at reasonable prices, master craftsmanship, honest to all ages.
And the shop’s signboard proclaid its renown—Wheatstone Musical Instrunts.
Through the shop’s display window, one could see a line of musical instrunts hanging against the pristine walls, painted with white enal.
Inside, there were not only courtly instrunts like violins, pianos, and harps that graced grand venues but also street perforrs’ favorites like rebecs, panflutes, or flutes.
Of course, the shop also had bugles used in the army to give commands and control the troop’s pace of advance and drums that were hit while hanging around the neck as they marched.
Eld squatted beside the window and took a look, unable to help nodding, “Who would’ve thought Greenwich had such a shop.
The array of instrunts here doesn’t fall short of those in London’s largest musical instrunt shops.
But has the owner gone mad?
Why open a shop in Greenwich?
How many people here would care to buy such things?
If he opened his shop in the West District, he’d surely make a fortune.”
As Arthur pushed open the door, he spoke, “Perhaps he opened his shop here precisely to avoid having too many custors.
Eld, you don’t understand—this gentleman is quite the eccentric.”
No sooner had they pushed open the door than the bell hung behind it chid.
The only sound was the jingle of a bell, and the few patrons in the otherwise desolate shop couldn’t help but turn to look at the two of them.
But soon, they returned their attention to the eight-stringed lute hanging on the wall.
“Alfred, I’ve never seen this instrunt before.
How about we try to accompany the poetry at this year’s university art festival with this new thing?”
“Uh…
William, are you talking about using it for your poetry, or for mine?
Maybe we should play it safe, new things aren’t necessarily more reliable than the old ones.
Actually, I think maybe no accompanint is needed, just pure recitation could work…”
Eld, overheard their discussion about poetry.
This high-achieving student from the University of London’s Departnt of Classical Literature couldn’t help but approach: “Might I be so fortunate as to join in the gentlen’s discussion?
I, though unworthy, happen to have so unique insights on poetry.”
The two young n gave Eld a wary glance, one seeming a bit shy and the other all arrogance in his eyes.
They were silent for a while until the shyer one broke the silence, speaking up for Eld: “Sir, our poetry isn’t much to speak of.
We wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
However, the other young man, full of arrogance, didn’t seem pleased with this response and corrected him: “Alfred, you should stop being so modest.
Your poetry won the gold award at Cambridge last year, you should be more confident and not always so timid.”
The shy young man, embarrassed, touched the back of his head and said: “But…
but…
William, didn’t you write a farcical play about my award-winning poem last year?
I think my poem might indeed have its flaws.”
Upon hearing this, the arrogant young man’s tongue seed to twist: “Alfred, when I wrote that farce, it wasn’t…
it wasn’t about targeting you.
I didn’t even know you back then.
Besides, if I thought your work was no good, would I have bothered to create sothing based on it?
Alfred, you must have confidence.
Students of Cambridge should have confidence!”
When Eld heard the word ‘Cambridge’ repeated, his eyelids couldn’t help but twitch.
He took a step back and shook his head at Arthur: “God!
Did you hear that?
Cambridge, we must be out of luck to have run into such misfortune today.
Listen to what he’s saying?
Cambridge and its poetry, that’s utterly ridiculous!”
Eld thought he had spoken quietly enough, but his words still reached the other’s ears.
The young man with arrogance stepped forward, frowning and pressing him: “Sir, what exactly are you implying?
Are you belittling the bright art and glorious civilization created by Cambridge?”
Confronted with such aggression, Eld couldn’t help but take a step back and tried to laugh it off: “No, of course not.
To be honest, I actually quite appreciate the works of Cambridge students, like that…
uh…”
He paused, unable to recall anything, and in a mont of desperation, he tugged at Arthur’s clothes: “Arthur, do you rember?
That one I talked to you about–that piece by soone from Cambridge.
It was quite good.”
Arthur really didn’t want to get involved in the trouble Eld was stirring up, but since it had co to this, he too tried to rember.
“Ah!
You an that one, the…
um…”
Arthur racked his brains, and then a flash of inspiration struck him: “That’s right, it was the one that goes, ‘I left quietly, just as I had co quietly, I wave quietly, bidding farewell to the clouds in the Western Heaven…'”
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