In the dusk the two mutes walked slowly home together. For, excepting drinking and a certain solitary secret pleasure, Antonapoulos loved to eat more than anything else in the world. He did not like to watch this little scene between the two Greeks. During these times Singer stood very straight with his hands in his pockets and looked in another direction.
Sadly Antonapoulos would shuffle the morsel from one corner of the case to the other. But if he noticed he stared at his cousin with a warning in his tight, pale face. Sometimes his cousin who owned the place did not see him. He glided open the back of the case and his fat hand groped lovingly for some particular dainty inside which he had wanted. Inside were stored various bits of food he had collected – a piece of fruit, samples of candy, or the butt-end of a liverwurst. Usually before leaving Antonapoulos waddled gently to the glassed case in the front of the store where some meats and cheeses were kept. Before their departure Antonapoulos always opened a paper sack he kept hidden during the day on one of the kitchen shelves. The Greek would be lazily unpacking a case of peaches or melons, or perhaps looking at the funny paper in the kitchen behind the store where he cooked. Singer came back to the fruit store and waited until Antonapoulos was ready to go home. In the late afternoon the friends would meet again. Then after this good-bye Singer crossed the street and walked on alone to the jewellery store where he worked as a silverware engraver. The thin mute, John Singer, nearly always put his hand on his friend’s arm and looked for a second into his face before leaving him. His job was to make candies and sweets, uncrate the fruits, and to keep the place clean. The Greek, Spiros Antonapoulos, worked for his cousin, who owned this fruit store. Then when they came to a certain fruit and candy store they paused for a moment on the sidewalk outside. He was always immaculate and very soberly dressed.Įvery morning the two friends walked silently together until they reached the main street of the town. His eyes had a quick, intelligent expression. His face was round and oily, with half-closed eyelids and lips that curved in a gentle, stupid smile. When it was colder he wore over this a shapeless grey sweater. In the summer he would come out wearing a yellow or green polo shirt stuffed sloppily into his trousers in front and hanging loose behind. The one who always steered the way was an obese and dreamy Greek. Early every morning they would come out from the house where they lived and walk arm in arm down the street to work.
In the town there were two mutes, and they were always together.
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