Read Online Where Tigers Are at Home by Jean-Marie Blas de Robles - Free Book Online
Authors: Jean-Marie Blas de Robles
Ads: Link
sensitive to their bites.
“
Pernilongos
,” said Alfredo as he saw him squash one of the insects on his neck. “They don’t worry me but I’ll go and get an incense coil. They’re supposed to drive them away.”
Eléazard thanked him. As Alfredo disappeared into the interior of the hotel he glanced at the other table. Better prepared than he, Loredana had taken out a little bottle of insect repellent from somewhere or other and was rubbing it over her arms and ankles. Seeing Eléazard watching her, she offered him the repellent and came over to hand it to him.
“I bought it in Italy,” she said, “it’s very effective but it smells awful, really awful.”
“You can speak Italian,” Eléazard said, putting on his best accent, “I’m better at that than at Portuguese. And thanks again, I was being eaten alive.”
“You speak Italian?” the woman said in surprised tones. “I never expected that. And then, you’re French …”
“How do you know that?”
“When a foreigner speaks Italian, even as well as you, I can generally tell. Where did you learn it?”
“In Rome. I lived there for a while. But please sit down,” he said, getting up to bring over a chair. “We can chat more easily like that.”
“Why not,” she replied after the briefest hesitation. “Just a moment while I go and get my glass and plate.”
Loredano had not sat down when Alfredo returned with his incense coil. He put it in a small dish and lit it, then quickly sat down with them. Eléazard noted his pleasure at finding the Italian woman sitting at his table. She, on the other hand, seemed annoyed at seeing him joining in the preliminaries of their encounter. For a moment he shared her unexpected vexation: Alfredo had become a nuisance. How human, he thought, to repudiate him in this way; a few words with an unknown woman were enough and a man, for whose company he had expressly come, was suddenly
de trop
. Feeling guilty toward Alfredo, he decided to accept the unfortunate situation.
“Let me introduce myself,” he said to Loredana in Brazilian, “Eléazard von Wogau. I think it better to use the language that allows all three of us to join in.”
“Of course,” Loredana replied, “but you’ll have to make allowances for me. I’m Loredana … Loredana Rizzuto,” she added, grimacing with disgust. “I’m still a bit ashamed of my name, it’s so ridiculous …”
“But not at all,” Alfredo broke in fervently. “I think it’s very beautiful, very … Italian. I’d prefer to have a name like that instead of ‘Portela.’ Alfredo Rizzuto, God, doesn’t that sound great …”
Eunice’s mocking voice was suddenly heard. “Alfredo Rizzuto?! What is it you’ve found now to attract attention to yourself?” She had appeared behind her husband carrying a tray with a slice of tart and a few mangoes. “You must excuse him,” she said to Loredana, “but as soon as he sees a pretty girl he can’t control himself. And now,
Senhor
Rizzuto, stop drinking and come and help me—there’s no more water. The pump must be on the blink again.”
“OK, OK,” said Alfredo in resigned tones. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”
Once Alfredo had left, Eléazard and Loredana burst out laughing; his expression when he heard his wife address him like that had been downright comic.
“A funny lad,” Loredana said, reverting to her mother tongue. “Nice, but a bit … clingy, no?”
“It depends. He doesn’t often have the chance to talk to people from outside, so he takes advantage whenever the occasion arises. And then I think he was a bit intimidated by you. That said, he’s far from stupid, you know. He’s not what I’d call a friend, but I like him a lot. Will you join me?” he said, lifting up the bottle. “It’s slightly fizzy, you could swear it was Chianti …”
“With pleasure,” Loredana said, holding out her glass. “Oh, Chianti … You’re going to make me feel nostalgic. But
“
Pernilongos
,” said Alfredo as he saw him squash one of the insects on his neck. “They don’t worry me but I’ll go and get an incense coil. They’re supposed to drive them away.”
Eléazard thanked him. As Alfredo disappeared into the interior of the hotel he glanced at the other table. Better prepared than he, Loredana had taken out a little bottle of insect repellent from somewhere or other and was rubbing it over her arms and ankles. Seeing Eléazard watching her, she offered him the repellent and came over to hand it to him.
“I bought it in Italy,” she said, “it’s very effective but it smells awful, really awful.”
“You can speak Italian,” Eléazard said, putting on his best accent, “I’m better at that than at Portuguese. And thanks again, I was being eaten alive.”
“You speak Italian?” the woman said in surprised tones. “I never expected that. And then, you’re French …”
“How do you know that?”
“When a foreigner speaks Italian, even as well as you, I can generally tell. Where did you learn it?”
“In Rome. I lived there for a while. But please sit down,” he said, getting up to bring over a chair. “We can chat more easily like that.”
“Why not,” she replied after the briefest hesitation. “Just a moment while I go and get my glass and plate.”
Loredano had not sat down when Alfredo returned with his incense coil. He put it in a small dish and lit it, then quickly sat down with them. Eléazard noted his pleasure at finding the Italian woman sitting at his table. She, on the other hand, seemed annoyed at seeing him joining in the preliminaries of their encounter. For a moment he shared her unexpected vexation: Alfredo had become a nuisance. How human, he thought, to repudiate him in this way; a few words with an unknown woman were enough and a man, for whose company he had expressly come, was suddenly
de trop
. Feeling guilty toward Alfredo, he decided to accept the unfortunate situation.
“Let me introduce myself,” he said to Loredana in Brazilian, “Eléazard von Wogau. I think it better to use the language that allows all three of us to join in.”
“Of course,” Loredana replied, “but you’ll have to make allowances for me. I’m Loredana … Loredana Rizzuto,” she added, grimacing with disgust. “I’m still a bit ashamed of my name, it’s so ridiculous …”
“But not at all,” Alfredo broke in fervently. “I think it’s very beautiful, very … Italian. I’d prefer to have a name like that instead of ‘Portela.’ Alfredo Rizzuto, God, doesn’t that sound great …”
Eunice’s mocking voice was suddenly heard. “Alfredo Rizzuto?! What is it you’ve found now to attract attention to yourself?” She had appeared behind her husband carrying a tray with a slice of tart and a few mangoes. “You must excuse him,” she said to Loredana, “but as soon as he sees a pretty girl he can’t control himself. And now,
Senhor
Rizzuto, stop drinking and come and help me—there’s no more water. The pump must be on the blink again.”
“OK, OK,” said Alfredo in resigned tones. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”
Once Alfredo had left, Eléazard and Loredana burst out laughing; his expression when he heard his wife address him like that had been downright comic.
“A funny lad,” Loredana said, reverting to her mother tongue. “Nice, but a bit … clingy, no?”
“It depends. He doesn’t often have the chance to talk to people from outside, so he takes advantage whenever the occasion arises. And then I think he was a bit intimidated by you. That said, he’s far from stupid, you know. He’s not what I’d call a friend, but I like him a lot. Will you join me?” he said, lifting up the bottle. “It’s slightly fizzy, you could swear it was Chianti …”
“With pleasure,” Loredana said, holding out her glass. “Oh, Chianti … You’re going to make me feel nostalgic. But
Similar Books
