Read Online The File on H. by Ismaíl Kadaré - Free Book Online

told you is in effect correct, and yet..."
    He fell silent and his face darkened, with only a twinkle of humor left in the corner of his eye, while his pupils shone with a fierce glow. After the words “and yet,” there was a long pause, which became ever more menacing, so that for the second time, unable to bear this lapse in conversation, Max interrupted:
    â€œAnd yet, Your Excellency?”
    â€œAnd yet” — the diplomat came to the point at last
—
“the Albanians of today maybe have nothing at all in common with the way you imagine them.”
    â€œWe don’t imagine anything at all, I answered. “So far, you are the first Albanian we have ever met, and I can’t hide the fact that we are, well, overwhelmed
."
    The diplomat began to laugh again, while the consul, who had been present throughout without saying a word, stared at us with an obviously suspicious eye. When he glanced sideways at the maps that Max had taken out of his briefcase to show the plenipotentiary, I suddenly thought: Good God, of course
—
the consul takes us for spies!
    â€œThe consul assumed we were secret agents,” I said to Max as we walked away from the legation. “I realized that too,” he replied. “But what do you think of the plenipotentiary?”
    "Amazing!"
    "Amazing?" said Max. "That’s an understatement...”
    The notes ended there. The governor rubbed his eyes. Funny business, he thought. His mind felt a complete blank.
    Something attracted his attention to the window. It was the rain that the wind knocked against the pane from time to time. Dawn had risen on one of those really filthy days that give you somber thoughts, like a debt to settle next week or the fear of having a cancer you’ve not yet mentioned to anyone.
    â€œ'The consul assumed we were secret agents,’ I said to Max...” The governor read these words over and over, shaking his head. “What crooks!” he mumbled. “They think they can cover their tracks by planting words like
agent
and
spy I
Like pyromaniacs who give the first alert! What they’re trying to say is, As we are as white as the driven snow, we are not afraid to say the word. But they can’t pull the wool over my eyes! They must really be spies, and maybe far worse. All this nonsense about Homer and the rhapsodes is only camouflage, hiding their true, murky mission. They wrote those notes up on purpose and left them on purpose in their suitcases, so that even a dolt like Pjeter Prenushi would have no difficulty getting hold of them.
    â€œYou cretin!” the governor said aloud to himself, bursting with anger. “You utter idiot! You gave me the envelope, proud as Punch, as if to say, See what Í can do! Ah, you poor misguided fool! They ran rings around you, they took you for a ride, you blockhead! But it won’t work with me. Oh no. I can see that all these scribbles are just eyewash. Let’s wait and see what Dull has to tell us…
.”
    As usual, the thought of Dull calmed the governor’s nerves. It was not for nothing that he liked to say Dull was his balm, the secret of his restful nights. Every time he felt a sudden anxiety, the kind of anxiety that is all the more troublesome for being without obvious cause, he would think of Dull squeezed into some chimney or squatting on some blackened beam, and his nerves would be calmed down. He is listening, the governor would think; he is tracking down evil….
    "Whereas you, Pjeter, birdbrain that you are, you’ve swallowed it hook, line, and sinker!" The governor roared out loud. “They shoved a load of paperwork under your nose, and you said. Thank you, that’ll do nicely! Filthy spies! Bastards! …”
    The governor was overcome with waves of anger, rising from his gut. He thought he could hear the shutters banging again, but it was the door, which had just opened. Startled, he saw that Daisy had come in.
    Still