Read Online Where Tigers Are at Home by Jean-Marie Blas de Robles - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jean-Marie Blas de Robles
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just a minute, let’s go back to the beginning, I’m starting to get things mixed up. How come you’re French with a name like that?”
“Because my father was German and my mother French, so I have dual nationality. However, since I was born in Paris and studied there for the most part, my German roots don’t mean very much.”
“And may one ask what you’re doing in this hole? Are you on holiday?”
“Not exactly,” Eléazard replied, “although my work does leave me plenty of free time. I’m a foreign correspondent, I just have to send a report to my agency from time to time. Since no one’s interested in Brazil, it goes straight into the wastepaper basket and I still get paid. I’ve been living in Alcântara for two years now. You’re a journalist too, from what Alfredo told me …”
Loredana, somewhat flustered, blushed to her ears. “Yes … That is, no. I lied to him. Let’s say I’m here on business. But please don’t go shouting it from the rooftops. If it came out, that is if some Brazilians got to know, it could work against me.”
Loredana was furious with herself. What had got into her? The
shady
lawyer in São Luís (the term she always used for that individual with the manner of a con man) had made her promise to keep it absolutely secret and here she was telling the first person she came across. She had caught herself just in time, but if he started asking questions she wouldn’t be able to keep up the new lie for long. God, what an idiot, what a damned idiot I am, she told herself, going even brighter red.
The blush made her look like a little girl. Eléazard almost paid her a compliment along those lines, but then changed his mind. Nothing was worse than being in a situation like that.
“What business would that be?” he asked with a touch of irony. “If I’m not being indiscreet, of course.”
“Gold, precious stones …” (Stop, Loredana, you’re mad. You’ll never get out of it! a voice screamed inside her head.) “But I prefer not to talk about it. It’s an operation that is—how shall I put it—on the borderline of legality … I hope you can understand.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you with that anymore. But take care, the Brazilian police are no angels and I’d be sorry to see you in their hands.” He refilled her glass and then his own. Without quite knowing why, he added, “Don’t worry. I know it’s wrong, but it’s the way things are: if I had to choose I’d always be on the side of the smugglers rather than the police.”
“That’s all right, then. So I’m a
contrabbandiere
, for the moment …” Loredana said with a laugh. Then, with a change of tone but without it being clear whether the remark was connected with what had gone before, she said, “You certainly like a drink. It’s almost …”
Eléazard pursed his lips. “A bit too much perhaps. Is that what you mean? In Brazil the water’s more dangerous than wine and since the idea of drinking Coca Cola fills me with horror … Jokingapart, avoid tap water like the plague; even filtered, it’s still dangerous. There’s new cases of hepatitis every day.”
“I know. I’ve already been warned.”
A flash of lightning followed by a particularly resounding clap of thunder made her start. The echo was still fading in the distance when the downpour hit the patio. It was heavy, violent rain, pattering on the polished leaves of the banana trees with force. The unexpected deluge created a kind of intimacy between Eléazard and Loredana, an enclosure of quiet and togetherness where they were happy to take refuge. The candle dribbled little transparent pearls, the mosquitos sizzled in the flame, bringing a momentary warm tone to the light. To the strong odor rising from the soil, the candle added unusual fragrances of church and of sandalwood.
“Perhaps we could call each other
tu
?” Loredana suggested, after a few minutes of silence enjoying the rain. “I’m fed up
“Because my father was German and my mother French, so I have dual nationality. However, since I was born in Paris and studied there for the most part, my German roots don’t mean very much.”
“And may one ask what you’re doing in this hole? Are you on holiday?”
“Not exactly,” Eléazard replied, “although my work does leave me plenty of free time. I’m a foreign correspondent, I just have to send a report to my agency from time to time. Since no one’s interested in Brazil, it goes straight into the wastepaper basket and I still get paid. I’ve been living in Alcântara for two years now. You’re a journalist too, from what Alfredo told me …”
Loredana, somewhat flustered, blushed to her ears. “Yes … That is, no. I lied to him. Let’s say I’m here on business. But please don’t go shouting it from the rooftops. If it came out, that is if some Brazilians got to know, it could work against me.”
Loredana was furious with herself. What had got into her? The
shady
lawyer in São Luís (the term she always used for that individual with the manner of a con man) had made her promise to keep it absolutely secret and here she was telling the first person she came across. She had caught herself just in time, but if he started asking questions she wouldn’t be able to keep up the new lie for long. God, what an idiot, what a damned idiot I am, she told herself, going even brighter red.
The blush made her look like a little girl. Eléazard almost paid her a compliment along those lines, but then changed his mind. Nothing was worse than being in a situation like that.
“What business would that be?” he asked with a touch of irony. “If I’m not being indiscreet, of course.”
“Gold, precious stones …” (Stop, Loredana, you’re mad. You’ll never get out of it! a voice screamed inside her head.) “But I prefer not to talk about it. It’s an operation that is—how shall I put it—on the borderline of legality … I hope you can understand.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you with that anymore. But take care, the Brazilian police are no angels and I’d be sorry to see you in their hands.” He refilled her glass and then his own. Without quite knowing why, he added, “Don’t worry. I know it’s wrong, but it’s the way things are: if I had to choose I’d always be on the side of the smugglers rather than the police.”
“That’s all right, then. So I’m a
contrabbandiere
, for the moment …” Loredana said with a laugh. Then, with a change of tone but without it being clear whether the remark was connected with what had gone before, she said, “You certainly like a drink. It’s almost …”
Eléazard pursed his lips. “A bit too much perhaps. Is that what you mean? In Brazil the water’s more dangerous than wine and since the idea of drinking Coca Cola fills me with horror … Jokingapart, avoid tap water like the plague; even filtered, it’s still dangerous. There’s new cases of hepatitis every day.”
“I know. I’ve already been warned.”
A flash of lightning followed by a particularly resounding clap of thunder made her start. The echo was still fading in the distance when the downpour hit the patio. It was heavy, violent rain, pattering on the polished leaves of the banana trees with force. The unexpected deluge created a kind of intimacy between Eléazard and Loredana, an enclosure of quiet and togetherness where they were happy to take refuge. The candle dribbled little transparent pearls, the mosquitos sizzled in the flame, bringing a momentary warm tone to the light. To the strong odor rising from the soil, the candle added unusual fragrances of church and of sandalwood.
“Perhaps we could call each other
tu
?” Loredana suggested, after a few minutes of silence enjoying the rain. “I’m fed up
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