Antonio Tabucchi - Pereira Maintains

Pereira maintains that he sat down at the table feeling ill at ease. He thought to himself that this was not the place for him at all, that it was absurd to meet a stranger at this nationalist festival, that Father António would not have approved of his conduct, and that he wished he were already on his way home to talk to his wife’s picture and ask its forgiveness. These thoughts nerved him to put a direct question, simply to start the ball rolling, and without much weighing his words he said to Monteiro Rossi: This is a Salazarist Youth festival, are you a member of the Salazarist Youth?

Monteiro Rossi brushed back his lock of hair and replied: I am a graduate in philosophy, my interests are philosophy and literature, but what has your question got to do with the Lisboa ? It has this to do with it, replied Pereira, that we are a free and independent newspaper and don’t wish to meddle in politics.

Meanwhile the two old musicians had struck up again, and from their melancholy strings they elicited a song in praise of Franco, but at that point Pereira, despite his uneasiness, realized he had let himself in for it and it was his business to take the initiative. And strangely enough he felt up to doing so, felt he had the situation in hand, simply because he was Dr Pereira of the Lisboa and the young man facing him was hanging on his lips. So he said: I read your article on death and found it very interesting. Yes, I did write a thesis on death, replied Monteiro Rossi, but let me say at once that it’s not all my own work,the passage they printed in the magazine was copied, I must confess, partly from Feuerbach and partly from a French spiritualist, and not even my own professor tumbled to it, teachers are more ignorant than people realize, you know. Pereira maintains that he thought twice about putting the question he’d been preparing all evening, but eventually he made up his mind, not without first ordering something to drink from the young green-shirted waiter in attendance. Forgive me, he said to Monteiro Rossi, but I never touch alcohol, only lemonade, so I’ll have a lemonade. And while sipping his lemonade he asked in a low voice, as if someone might overhear and reprove him for it: But are you, please forgive me but, well, what I want to ask is, are you interested in death?

Monteiro Rossi gave a broad grin, and this, Pereira maintains, disconcerted him. What an idea, Dr Pereira, exclaimed Monteiro Rossi heartily, what I’m interested in is life. Then, more quietly: Listen, Dr Pereira, I’ve had quite enough of death, two years ago my mother died, she was Portuguese and a teacher and she died suddenly from an aneurism in the brain, that’s a complicated way of saying a burst blood vessel, in short she died of a stroke, and last year my father died, he was Italian, a naval engineer at the Lisbon dockyard, and he left me a little something but I’ve already run through that, I have a grandmother still alive in Italy but I haven’t seen her since I was twelve and I don’t fancy going to Italy, the situation there seems even worse than ours, and I’m fed up with death, Dr Pereira, you must excuse me for being frank with you but in any case why this question?

Pereira took a sip of his lemonade, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and said: Simply because in a newspaper one has to have memorial articles on dead writers or an obituary every time an important writer dies, and an obituary can’t be written at the drop of a hat, one has to have it ready beforehand, and I’m looking for someone to write advance obituaries on the great writers of our times, imagine if Mauriac were to die tomorrow how do you think I’d manage?

Monteiro Rossi ordered another beer, Pereira maintains. Since he’d arrived the young man had drunk at least three and at that point, in Pereira’s opinion, he ought to be already rather tight, or at least slightly tipsy. Monteiro Rossi swept back his lock of hair and said: Dr Pereira, I am a good linguist and I know the work of modern writers; what I love is life, but if you want me to write about death and you pay me for it, as they’ve paid me this evening to sing a Neapolitan song, then I can do it, for the day after tomorrow I’ll write you a funeral oration for García Lorca, what d’you think of Lorca? after all he created the avant-garde in Spain just as here in Portugal Pessoa created our modernist movement, and what’s more he was an all-round artist, he was a poet, a musician and a painter too.

Pereira said Lorca didn’t seem to him the ideal choice, he maintains, but he could certainly give it a try, as long as he dealt with Lorca tactfully and with due caution, referring exclusively to his personality as an artist and without touching on other aspects which in view of the current situation might pose problems. And then, without batting an eyelid, Monteiro Rossi said: Look here, excuse my mentioning it, I’ll do you this article on Lorca but d’you think you could give me something in advance? I’ll have to buy some new trousers, these are terribly stained, and tomorrow I’m going out with a girl I knew at university who’s on her way here now, she’s a good chum of mine and I’m very fond of her, I’d like to take her to the cinema.

The girl who turned up had an Italian straw hat on. She was really beautiful, Pereira maintains, her complexion fresh, her eyes green, her arms shapely. She was wearing a dress with straps crossing at the back that showed off her softly moulded shoulders.

This is Marta, said Monteiro Rossi, Marta let me introduce Dr Pereira of the Lisboa who has engaged me this evening, from now on I’m a journalist, so you see I’ve found a job. And she said: How d’you do, I’m Marta. Then, turning to Monteiro Rossi, she said: Heaven knows why I’ve come to a do of this sort, but since I’m here why don’t you take me for a dance, you numskull, the music’s nice and it’s a marvellous evening.

Pereira sat on alone at the table, ordered another lemonade and drank it in small sips as he watched the young pair dancing slowly cheek to cheek. Pereira maintains that it made him think once again of his own past life, of the children he had never had, but on this subject he has no wish to make further statements. When the dance ended the young people took their places at the table and Marta said rather casually: You know, I bought the Lisboa today, it’s a pity it doesn’t mention the carter the police have murdered in Alentejo, all it talks about is an American yacht, not a very interesting piece of news in my view. And Pereira, guilt-struck for no good reason, replied: The editor-in-chief is on holiday taking the waters, I am only responsible for the culture page because, you know, from next week on the Lisboa is going to have a culture page and I am in charge of it.

Marta took off her hat and laid it on the table. From beneath it cascaded a mass of rich brown hair with reddish lights in it, Pereira maintains. She looked a year or two older than her companion, perhaps twenty-six or twenty-seven, so he asked her: What do you do in life? I write business letters for an import-export firm, replied Marta, I only work in the mornings, so in the afternoons I have time to read, go for walks and sometimes meet Monteiro Rossi. Pereira maintains he found it odd that she called the young man by his surname, Monteiro Rossi, as if they were no more than colleagues, but he made no comment and changed the subject: I thought perhaps you belonged to the Salazarist Youth, he said, just for something to say. And what about you? countered Marta. Oh, said Pereira, my youth has been over for quite a while, and as for politics, apart from the fact that they don’t much interest me I don’t like fanatical people, it seems to me that the world is full of fanatics. It’s important to distinguish between fanaticism and faith, replied Marta, otherwise we couldn’t have ideals, such as that men are free and equal, and even brothers, I’m sorry if I’m really only trotting out the message of the French Revolution, do you believe in the French Revolution? Theoretically yes, answered Pereira, and then regretted having said theoretically, because what he had wanted to say was: Substantially yes. But he had more or less conveyed his meaning. And at that point the two little old men with viola and guitar struck up with a waltz and Marta said: Dr Pereira, I’d like to dance this waltz with you. Pereira rose to his feet, he maintains, gave her his arm and led her onto the dance-floor. And he danced that waltz almost in rapture, as if his paunch and all his fat had vanished by magic. And during the dance he looked up at the sky above the coloured lights of Praça da Alegria, and he felt infinitely small and at one with the universe. In some nondescript square somewhere in the universe, he thought, there’s a fat elderly man dancing with a young girl and meanwhile the stars are circling, the universe is in motion, and maybe someone is watching us from an everlasting observatory. When they returned to their table: Oh why have I no children? thought Pereira, he maintains. He ordered another lemonade, thinking it would do him good because during the afternoon, with that atrocious heat, he’d had trouble with his insides. And meanwhile Marta chattered on as relaxed as you please, and said: Monteiro Rossi has told me about your schemes for the paper, I think they’re good, there must be dozens of writers who ought to be kicking the bucket, luckily that insufferable Rapagnetta who called himself D’Annunzio kicked it a few months ago, but there’s also that pious fraud Claudel whom we’ve had quite enough of don’t you think? and I’m sure your paper which appears to have Catholic leanings would willingly give him some space, and then there’s that scoundrel Marinetti, a nasty piece of work, who after singing the praises of guns and war has gone over to Mussolini’s blackshirts, it’s about time he was on his way too. Pereira maintains that he broke out in a slight sweat and whispered: Young lady, lower your voice, I don’t know if you realize exactly what kind of a place we’re in. At which Marta put her hat back on and said: Well, I’m fed up with it anyway, it’s giving me the jitters, in a minute they’ll be striking up with military marches, I’d better leave you with Monteiro Rossi, I’m sure you have things to discuss so I’ll walk down to the river, I need a breath of fresh air, so goodnight.