Read Online The Light in the Ruins by Chris Bohjalian - Free Book Online Page B

sincere, and Vittore didn’t know what to make of this lunacy. The man had worked with Decher at the Louvre for two years before being transferred here.
    “Of course, your Reichsführer also believes in Atlantis,” Lorenzetti observed dryly.
    “Just so you all know, spring and summer are lovely in Dresden,” Strekker said, his voice typically exuberant and collegial. He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest that the Italians were having fun at the expense of his precious Reichsführer. “Moreover, it seems to me that it snows in Italy, too—in the Alps and in the mountains not far from here. Mount Amiata, for instance.”
    “As a matter of fact, Vittore,” Lorenzetti went on, feigning sincerity, “I recall an Etruscan plate with a dancer shaping his body into a swastika. Sixth-century B.C. Found in the dig at—”
    “Enough, all of you!” Decher snapped. “I don’t see the humor in wanting to understand our roots, and it’s too late in the evening to debate the weather.” Then he mapped out for them their day tomorrow and how he wanted to visit Arezzo. Vittore was relieved when, this time, Decher ordered him to accompany them. In the end, he might not be able to prevent the artifacts, including the ones from the tombs at the Villa Chimera, from being sent to Germany or to the Gestapo in Rome, but at least he would have the chance to speak in their defense.
    Outside the window he heard the dog bark and he turned. Somewhere the boy had found a bone the size of a boot, a littlemeat still clinging to it. Abruptly the dog, despite its unsteady gait, took the gift in its mouth and started to run down the street beside the Arno. The boy smiled, his hands on his knees, and then stood and waved at the animal as it disappeared into the night.

    Alessia tucked her chin against her collarbone and rolled headfirst, her fine hair billowing out beside her as she tumbled. The sun was reflecting off the black chimera, turning it almost silver, and the lion’s eyes looked a little wild as it watched the child. Alessia somersaulted three times along the grass beside the pergola for her mother and her aunt, a display triggered, the women presumed, because her brother, Massimo, had just swum all the way to the bottom of the deepest section of the pool for the very first time.
    “A somersault is nothing new,” Massimo reminded them all.
    “No, but three in a row? Your little sister has never done that,” Francesca told her son. “I’m proud of both of you.” Then she brushed the dry grass from her daughter’s shoulders and the back of her bathing suit. She pulled a strand of lavender from the girl’s hair and replaced it with a rose from the nearby trellis. Meanwhile, Massimo decided he would drown his disgust: he pinched his nose shut with his thumb and forefinger and jumped back into the pool, trying to make as large and as annoying a splash as he could. In the distance they could see two farmhands tending to the grapes at the edge of the vineyard.
    “I thought Vittore sounded good on the phone this morning,” Cristina said to Francesca. He had grown testy when she’d pressed him about the officers’ visit to the villa, because he was still piqued that they had gone there without him, but he was excited by the prospect of seeing his family today. Instead of Florence, however, they were going to meet in Arezzo, a smaller city than Florence but no more than thirty-five kilometers from Monte Volta. He was going to be there with the contingent from the Uffizi, showing the Germans the Etruscan art—including, he’d said, the relics from their estate. He didn’t believe he would have time for a mealwith his family, but he was confident that he would be able to steal away with them to a café for perhaps an hour in the middle of the afternoon.
    “He sounded a little annoyed to me,” said Francesca. “And he should be. Coming to his home without telling him? That’s infuriating.” When her daughter looked up at