Read Online The Palace of Dreams by Ismaíl Kadaré, Barbara Bray - Free Book Online
Authors: Ismaíl Kadaré, Barbara Bray
Ads: Link
they did so even before. The theme was still the Tabir Sarrail, but not in relation to him. Mark-Alem began to take more interest.
“Anyhow, it’s true to say the Tabir Sarrail has now recovered all its old authority,” said the elder of the uncles.
“For my part,” observed Kurt, “even though I am a Quprili, I’ve never thought it could easily be undermined. It’s not only one of the oldest State institutions—in my opinion it’s also, despite its charming name, one of the most formidable.”
“It’s not the only one that’s formidable,” objected one of the cousins.
Kurt smiled.
“Yes, but in the other ones the terror’s obvious. The fear they inspire can be seen for miles, like a cloud of black smoke. But with the Tabir Sarrail it’s quite different.”
“And why, in your opinion, is the Palace of Dreams so formidable?” asked Mark-Alem’s mother.
“It isn’t so in the way you may suppose,” said Kurt, with a covert glance at his nephew. “I was thinking of something else. If you ask me, of all the mechanisms of State, the Palace of Dreams is the most remote from human will. Do you see what I mean? It’s the most impersonal, the blindest, the most deadly, and so the most autocratic.”
“Even so, I reckon it too can be kept more or less under control,” said the other cousin.
He was bald, with dim eyes that reflected his intelligence in a very peculiar way; they seemed simultaneously to reveal and to be consumed by it.
“In my opinion,” Kurt went on, “it’s the only organization in the State where the darker side of its subjects’ consciousness enters into direct contact with the State itself.”
He looked around at everyone present, as if to assess the effect of his words.
“The masses don’t rule, of course,” he continued, “but they do possess a mechanism through which they influence all the State’s affairs, including its crimes. And that mechanism is the Tabir Sarrail.”
“Do you mean to say,” asked the cousin, “that the masses are to a certain extent responsible for everything that happens, and so should to a certain extent feel guilty about it?”
“Yes,” said Kurt. Then, more firmly: “In a way, yes.” The other smiled, but as his eyes were half closed you could see only a bit of his smile, like a shaft of light from under a door.
“All the same,” he said, “I think it’s the most absurd institution in the whole Empire.”
“In a logical world it would be absurd,” said Kurt. “But in the world as it is it’s quite normal!”
The cousin laughed heartily, but gradually stifled his mirth when he saw the governor’s face darken.
“Yet it’s rumored everywhere that things are more complicated than that,” said the other cousin. “Nothing is ever as clear as it seems. For example, who can say nowadays what the Oracle of Delphi was really like? All its records have been lost—or rather destroyed. And it wasn’t as easy as all that to get Mark-Alem taken on… .”
Mark-Alem’s mother was listening attentively to all this, trying to catch every word.
“1 think you’d better change the subject,” said the governor.
It wasn’t as easy as all that to get me taken on… . Mark-Alem thought to himself. And gradually there came back to him scenes from his first morning at the Tabir, when he’d been so lost and bewildered, together with glimpses of the tedious hours he’d spent today, working in Selection. I suppose he thinks I shot straight to the top of the tree! he laughed bitterly to himself.
“Come, let’s talk about something else!” said the elder of the two uncles again.
At this point Loke came and announced that dinner was served, and everyone got up and went into the dining room.
At table the governor’s wife started talking about the customs in her husband’s province, but Kurt, none too politely, interrupted her.
“I’ve invited some rhapsodists to come here from Albania,” he said.
“What!” cried two or
“Anyhow, it’s true to say the Tabir Sarrail has now recovered all its old authority,” said the elder of the uncles.
“For my part,” observed Kurt, “even though I am a Quprili, I’ve never thought it could easily be undermined. It’s not only one of the oldest State institutions—in my opinion it’s also, despite its charming name, one of the most formidable.”
“It’s not the only one that’s formidable,” objected one of the cousins.
Kurt smiled.
“Yes, but in the other ones the terror’s obvious. The fear they inspire can be seen for miles, like a cloud of black smoke. But with the Tabir Sarrail it’s quite different.”
“And why, in your opinion, is the Palace of Dreams so formidable?” asked Mark-Alem’s mother.
“It isn’t so in the way you may suppose,” said Kurt, with a covert glance at his nephew. “I was thinking of something else. If you ask me, of all the mechanisms of State, the Palace of Dreams is the most remote from human will. Do you see what I mean? It’s the most impersonal, the blindest, the most deadly, and so the most autocratic.”
“Even so, I reckon it too can be kept more or less under control,” said the other cousin.
He was bald, with dim eyes that reflected his intelligence in a very peculiar way; they seemed simultaneously to reveal and to be consumed by it.
“In my opinion,” Kurt went on, “it’s the only organization in the State where the darker side of its subjects’ consciousness enters into direct contact with the State itself.”
He looked around at everyone present, as if to assess the effect of his words.
“The masses don’t rule, of course,” he continued, “but they do possess a mechanism through which they influence all the State’s affairs, including its crimes. And that mechanism is the Tabir Sarrail.”
“Do you mean to say,” asked the cousin, “that the masses are to a certain extent responsible for everything that happens, and so should to a certain extent feel guilty about it?”
“Yes,” said Kurt. Then, more firmly: “In a way, yes.” The other smiled, but as his eyes were half closed you could see only a bit of his smile, like a shaft of light from under a door.
“All the same,” he said, “I think it’s the most absurd institution in the whole Empire.”
“In a logical world it would be absurd,” said Kurt. “But in the world as it is it’s quite normal!”
The cousin laughed heartily, but gradually stifled his mirth when he saw the governor’s face darken.
“Yet it’s rumored everywhere that things are more complicated than that,” said the other cousin. “Nothing is ever as clear as it seems. For example, who can say nowadays what the Oracle of Delphi was really like? All its records have been lost—or rather destroyed. And it wasn’t as easy as all that to get Mark-Alem taken on… .”
Mark-Alem’s mother was listening attentively to all this, trying to catch every word.
“1 think you’d better change the subject,” said the governor.
It wasn’t as easy as all that to get me taken on… . Mark-Alem thought to himself. And gradually there came back to him scenes from his first morning at the Tabir, when he’d been so lost and bewildered, together with glimpses of the tedious hours he’d spent today, working in Selection. I suppose he thinks I shot straight to the top of the tree! he laughed bitterly to himself.
“Come, let’s talk about something else!” said the elder of the two uncles again.
At this point Loke came and announced that dinner was served, and everyone got up and went into the dining room.
At table the governor’s wife started talking about the customs in her husband’s province, but Kurt, none too politely, interrupted her.
“I’ve invited some rhapsodists to come here from Albania,” he said.
“What!” cried two or
Similar Books
