Jean-Marie Blas De Robles - Where Tigers Are at Home

“And the converse is equally true. It’s the precise meaning of the passage I was quoting just now. Removed from his native land and cast, willingly or not, on a foreign shore, a man becomes different. However much he mixes with parrots, monkeys and … let’s say the native population, he still remains someone who doesn’t belong, whose only alternatives are either the despair resulting from his lack of points of reference or complete integration in this new world. In either case, he becomes the ‘Moor’ of whom we were talking: a poor soul incapable of becoming acclimatized to this world where everything is beyond him and, soon, a cripple incapable of renewing his ties with his native land, at best a traitor who will spend his whole life aping a culture that even his children will have difficulty acquiring.”

“If you insist,” said Eléazard, in a tone that contradicted his agreement. “Though you could hear that opinion from the lips of a fanatical nationalist or a fascist opposed in principle to the horrors of interbreeding. Times have changed, nowadays we can move from one end of the world to another much more easily than from Weimar to Leipzig in Goethe’s day; whether we deplore it or see it as an achievement, the fact is that cultural differences are becoming less marked, eventually they will give way to a blend hitherto unknown in the history of the world … But what’s the connection with Moreira?”

“None whatsoever, my friend,” said the doctor, bursting into a little silent laugh. “And why should there be? After all”—once again he turned to Loredana—“I’m not the one who lives with a parrot.”

“One-nil to you,” said Loredana, laughing too.

“You’re lucky we’re there,” said Eléazard, turning into the main drive of the fazenda , “or I’d have shown you what I’m made of.” He gave the old man an affectionate smile, but Loredana saw a flush on the back of his neck that hadn’t been there a few seconds before.

“DO COME IN,” said Countess Carlotta after the doctor had introduced them. “Follow me, we’ll try and find José. After that you can do as you please.” She took Euclides by the arm and firmly pushed her way through the groups crowding the hall right up to the stairs.

… six-four, six-love! He was never in the game. So I’m in the quarterfinals. I must admit I didn’t think I could do it … If you’d seen the look on his face! Getting beaten by a veteran, he couldn’t get over it …

The rustle of silk, the swirl of cigarettes, slow, grudging sidesteps to allow them through.

… Carlotta, darling, your lobster’s quite simply sublime! You must tell me where you get them, the telephone number itself’s worth it’s weight in gold!

… I recognized it right away. Just imagine, a Vasco Prado by itself, in the middle of a pile of rubbish! And this imbecile who didn’t even know what it was … I even haggled! It’s not a masterpiece, of course, but it’s a first edition, it’s got something …

… he’s a bastard, there’s no two ways about it. I lost my temper, I know, but if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s lies. A promise is a promise, and nothing will persuade me otherwise …

Women’s bare arms, immaculate shirt collars with damp necks trying to wriggle out of them, sighs at the heat, shining skin, a sudden surplus of Dior or Guerlain under an armpit blue from the razor. Like a priesthood, blacks in white suits were strolling around gravely, magi offering their gifts of crystal and salmon canapes to the gods.

“Ah, there he is,” said Carlotta, going toward the large mirror beneath which her husband was strutting, champagne glass in one hand, the other placed in a familiar gesture on the shoulder of a surly old man with whom he was conversing in a low voice. “José, if you please …”

The governor turned around automatically, looking annoyed. But when he saw Loredana his face lit up. “Good evening, Doctor, how are you? It’s good of you to come.”

“Very well, thank you. Don’t let us interrupt, I just wanted to introduce the friends I told you about: Loredana Rizzuto, an Italian who happens to be visiting our region—”

“A pleasure,” said the governor, bending over Loredana’s hand.

“—and Eléazard von Wogau, Reuters correspondent …”

“Delighted to meet you. I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” said Eléazard, shaking his hand.

“Don’t worry, our dear Euclides is unrivaled as a doctor but he is also an excellent advocate. And of course your articles, which I read regularly, speak for themselves …”

“Really?” said Eléazard, unable to keep a slight touch of irony out of his voice. No signed article by him had appeared for a year; the man must be either a hypocrite or a fool. Both, probably …

“Every time I come across one, anyway. My work hardly leaves me any time for decent reading. But if you will forgive me”—this with a glance at the old man behind him who was making no attempt to conceal his impatience—“we can continue our conversation a little later. Show them the buffet, darling, they must be thirsty in this heat.” And as one of the waiters was just passing he took a glass of champagne off his tray and handed it to Loredana. “See you soon,” he said, addressing her alone and with a smile that made her feel uneasy.

The smile of a man, she thought, who spends a fortune on his dentist.

“That was Alvarez Neto, the Minister for Industry,” Euclides whispered to Eléazard as they went away.

“That antique! How did you manage to recognize him?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“From his smell, my friend. That gentleman stinks of money as others do of excrement.”

Led by Carlotta, they weaved their way between the dinner jackets and evening dresses that the gilded decoration on that floor — or was it just the presence of the governor? — seemed to have attracted to that spot. Seeing Loredana, the women’s looks sprayed her with a toxic cloud of contemptuous rivalry; the men’s, beneath an affectation of indifference, were meant to be eloquent. Wearing tight jeans and a crocheted crossover top, her hair hurriedly done up in a chignon that was threatening to fall apart, she made her sinuous way between them without deigning to notice the fissures caused by her passing.

“I’m going to deprive you of the doctor for a few moments,” the Countess said, “make sure you get a few nibbles before these greedy pigs clear the buffet. It’s always the same,” she said to Euclides, watching the crowd obstinately gather in one corner of the room, “to see them, you’d think they hadn’t eaten for days …”

In a hurry to get out in the open air, Eléazard and Loredana went back down to the ground floor. A servant took them to the French window leading out onto the patio: enclosed by the walls of the chapel, the fazenda and its outbuildings, was a huge garden with trees and grass. Concealing the sky behind a shimmering veil, a profusion of torches set the shadows dancing beneath the massive daturas and frangipanis skillfully arranged in sparse disorder.

“Can you tell me what the hell we’re doing here?” Loredana asked reproachfully.

“What a load of cretins,” Eléazard said, wiping his neck with his handkerchief. “It’s unbelievable! If it was up to me, we’d leave straightaway.”

“What is there to stop us?”

“I promised Euclides I’d make an effort. Anyway, it’s his car so we’ll have to wait to take him home.”

Loredana seemed to hesitate a moment, frowning.

“Please,” Eléazard said gently, as if he had heard her sharp words of objection.