Livre · Pan Tadeusz
Page 233 sur 788
Auteur: Adam Mickiewicz
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From the gable protruded the edges of a balcony, supported on a
row of close-set wooden columns; the columns, which were a great
architectural marvel, were solid, though half decayed, and were
put up crooked, as in the tower of Pisa; they did not conform to
Greek models, for they lacked bases and capitals. On the columns
rested semicircular arches, also of wood, in imitation of Gothic
art. Above were artistic ornaments, crooked as the arms of
Sabbath candlesticks,69 executed not with the graver or chisel,
but with skilful blows of the carpenter's hatchet; at their ends
hung balls, somewhat resembling the buttons that the Jews hang on
their foreheads when they pray, and which, in their own, tongue,
they call cyces. In a word, from a distance the tottering,
crooked tavern was like a Jew, when he nods his head in prayer;
the roof is his cap, the disordered thatch his beard, the smoky,
dirty walls his black frock, and in front the carving juts out
like the cyces on his brow.
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