Read Online Where Tigers Are at Home by Jean-Marie Blas de Robles - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jean-Marie Blas de Robles
Ads: Link
with having to make the effort.”
“I was going to suggest the same,” Eléazard agreed with a smile. Abandoning
Lei
, which suddenly brought them closer together, gave him an almost physical sensation of pleasure. “Your repellent really works,” he said, picking a mosquito out of his glass, “I haven’t had a bite since that one ages ago. But it’s true that it stinks to high heaven. I’m sure it would keep off policemen as well …”
Loredana laughed, but it was a slightly forced laugh. She felt guilty at having fooled Eléazard with her silly story of smuggling. The wine was starting to go to her head.
“So what do you do all day when you’re not sending your despatches, which don’t seem to take up much of your time anyway?”
“I live, I dream … I write. Recently I’ve been spending quite a lot of time at my computer.”
“What kind of things do you write?”
“Oh, nothing exciting. I’ve been commissioned to prepare a seventeenth-century manuscript for publication. The biography of a Jesuit father I’ve been working on for several years. It’s a piece of research rather than writing.”
“You’re a believer?” she asked, surprised.
“Not at all,” Eléazard assured her, “but this guy no one’s heard of is an interesting oddity. He wrote about absolutely everything, claiming each time and on each subject to have the sum total of knowledge. That was fairly standard at the time, but what fascinates me about him—and I’m talking about a man who was a contemporary of people like Leibniz, Galileo, Huygens and was much more famous than they—is that he was entirely wrong about everything. He even thought he’d managed to decipher the Egyptian hieroglyphs and everyone believed him until Champollion came along.
“Surely you’re not talking about Athanasius Kircher?” Loredana broke in, visibly interested.
Eléazard felt his hair stand on end. “It’s not possible … It’s just
not
possible,” he said as he looked at her, dumbfounded. “How come you know that?”
“I haven’t told you everything, far from it,” said Loredana in a tone of mystery and enjoying her advantage over him. “I’ve more than one string to my bow.”
“Please …” said Eléazard, putting on a hangdog expression.
“The simple reason is because I’m a sinologist. Well, not quite; I studied Chinese, a long time ago and I’ve read one or two books that talked about Kircher because of his work on China.
Cazzo!
” she suddenly exclaimed. “
Puta merda!
”
“What’s the matter?” Eléazard asked, taken aback by her swearing.
“Nothing,” she said, blushing again. “I’ve been bitten by a mosquito.”
SÃO LUÍS
Swollen lips, the yielding fruit of the mango tree …
“
Yes … Right … I want all of them, every last one … It’s of vital importance, I hope you understand that. Who?… One moment, I’ll check.”
The telephone wedged between his shoulder and his right ear, in a posture that made his cheek bulge around the receiver, Colonel José Moreira da Rocha unrolled a little more of the cadastral map spread out on his desk.
“What was it you said?… 367 … N.P.… B? N.B.… 40 … There, I’ve got it. Why is he refusing to sell? It’s nothing but forest and marshes. My God, what a load of cretins! Offer him twice the price and let him go hang. It all has to be sorted out within the fortnight … No … I said no, Wagner! I don’t want any trouble, especially not at the moment. And you know I don’t really like those methods anyway … How does he earn his living?… OK, I’ll see to it. Don’t you worry, it’ll go through even quicker than we thought. By the way, they’ve moved the meeting up: tomorrow, three o’clock … I don’t want to know! Be there without fail, I’m counting on you … That’s right … That’s right … OK, call back if there’s the least problem.”
As soon as he’d replaced the receiver, the
“I was going to suggest the same,” Eléazard agreed with a smile. Abandoning
Lei
, which suddenly brought them closer together, gave him an almost physical sensation of pleasure. “Your repellent really works,” he said, picking a mosquito out of his glass, “I haven’t had a bite since that one ages ago. But it’s true that it stinks to high heaven. I’m sure it would keep off policemen as well …”
Loredana laughed, but it was a slightly forced laugh. She felt guilty at having fooled Eléazard with her silly story of smuggling. The wine was starting to go to her head.
“So what do you do all day when you’re not sending your despatches, which don’t seem to take up much of your time anyway?”
“I live, I dream … I write. Recently I’ve been spending quite a lot of time at my computer.”
“What kind of things do you write?”
“Oh, nothing exciting. I’ve been commissioned to prepare a seventeenth-century manuscript for publication. The biography of a Jesuit father I’ve been working on for several years. It’s a piece of research rather than writing.”
“You’re a believer?” she asked, surprised.
“Not at all,” Eléazard assured her, “but this guy no one’s heard of is an interesting oddity. He wrote about absolutely everything, claiming each time and on each subject to have the sum total of knowledge. That was fairly standard at the time, but what fascinates me about him—and I’m talking about a man who was a contemporary of people like Leibniz, Galileo, Huygens and was much more famous than they—is that he was entirely wrong about everything. He even thought he’d managed to decipher the Egyptian hieroglyphs and everyone believed him until Champollion came along.
“Surely you’re not talking about Athanasius Kircher?” Loredana broke in, visibly interested.
Eléazard felt his hair stand on end. “It’s not possible … It’s just
not
possible,” he said as he looked at her, dumbfounded. “How come you know that?”
“I haven’t told you everything, far from it,” said Loredana in a tone of mystery and enjoying her advantage over him. “I’ve more than one string to my bow.”
“Please …” said Eléazard, putting on a hangdog expression.
“The simple reason is because I’m a sinologist. Well, not quite; I studied Chinese, a long time ago and I’ve read one or two books that talked about Kircher because of his work on China.
Cazzo!
” she suddenly exclaimed. “
Puta merda!
”
“What’s the matter?” Eléazard asked, taken aback by her swearing.
“Nothing,” she said, blushing again. “I’ve been bitten by a mosquito.”
SÃO LUÍS
Swollen lips, the yielding fruit of the mango tree …
“
Yes … Right … I want all of them, every last one … It’s of vital importance, I hope you understand that. Who?… One moment, I’ll check.”
The telephone wedged between his shoulder and his right ear, in a posture that made his cheek bulge around the receiver, Colonel José Moreira da Rocha unrolled a little more of the cadastral map spread out on his desk.
“What was it you said?… 367 … N.P.… B? N.B.… 40 … There, I’ve got it. Why is he refusing to sell? It’s nothing but forest and marshes. My God, what a load of cretins! Offer him twice the price and let him go hang. It all has to be sorted out within the fortnight … No … I said no, Wagner! I don’t want any trouble, especially not at the moment. And you know I don’t really like those methods anyway … How does he earn his living?… OK, I’ll see to it. Don’t you worry, it’ll go through even quicker than we thought. By the way, they’ve moved the meeting up: tomorrow, three o’clock … I don’t want to know! Be there without fail, I’m counting on you … That’s right … That’s right … OK, call back if there’s the least problem.”
As soon as he’d replaced the receiver, the
Similar Books
