Part 16 (1/2)
The man with the bandage experienced another tie in his cheek. His eyes grew wide -- he too recognized me.
”Art Patrons?” said the ruddy one. ”Yes, there is such a barbarous organization with us here. It is very sad that such is the case, but it's so.”
I nodded, studying the bandage. My acquaintance had already regained his composure and was eating his jelly with his accustomed haughty look.
”In essence they are simply modern-age vandals. I simply couldn't find a more appropriate word. They pool their resources and buy up stolen paintings, statues, ma.n.u.scripts, unpublished literary works, patents, and destroy them. Can you imagine how revolting that is? They And some pathological delight in the destruction of examples of world culture. They gather in a large, well-dressed crowd and slowly, deliberately, orgiastically destroy them!”
”Oh my, my, my!” I said, not taking my eyes off the bandage. ”Such people should be hung by their legs.”
”And we are after them,” said the ruddy one. ”We are in pursuit of them on the legal level. We are unfortunately unable to get after the Artiques and the Perchers, who are not breaking any laws, but as far as the Art Patrons are concerned --”.
”Are you finished yet, Senator?” inquired the bandaged one, ignoring me.
The ruddy one caught himself.
”Yes, yes. It's time for us to go. You will excuse us, please,” he said, turning to me. ”We have a meeting of the munic.i.p.al council.”
”Bartender!” called the bandaged one in a metallic voice.
”Would you call us a taxi.”
”Have you been here long?” asked the ruddy man.
”Second day,” I replied.
”Do you like it?”
”A beautiful city.”
”Mm -- yes,” he mumbled.
We were silent. The man with the bandage impudently inserted his monocle and pulled out a cigar.
”Does it hurt?” I asked sympathetically.
”What, exactly?”
”The jaw,” I said. ”And the liver should hurt, too.”
”Nothing ever hurts me,” he replied, monocle glinting. ”Are you two acquainted?” the ruddy one asked in astonishment.
”Slightly,” I said. ”We had an argument about art.”
The bartender called out that the taxi had arrived. The man with the bandage immediately got up.
”Let's go, Senator,” he said.
The ruddy one smiled at me abstractedly and also got up.
They set off for the exit. I followed them with my eyes and went to the bar.
”Brandy?” asked the bartender.
”Quite,” I said. I shuddered with rage. ”Who are those people I just spoke to?”
'The baldy is a munic.i.p.al counselor, his field are cultural affairs. The one with the monocle is the city comptroller.”
”Comptroller,” I said. ”A scoundrel is what he is.”
”Really?” said the barman with interest.
'That's right, really,” I said. ”Is Buba here?”
”Not yet. And how about the comptroller, what is he up to?”
”A scoundrel, an embezzler, that's what he is,” I said.
The bartender thought awhile.
”It could well be,” he said. ”In fact he's a baron -- that is, he used to be, of course. His ways, sure enough, are unsavory. Too bad I didn't go vote or I would have voted against him. What's he done to you?”
”It's you he's done. And I've given him some back. And I'll give him some more in due time. Such is the situation.”
The bartender, not understanding anything, nodded and said, ”Hit it again?”
”Do,” I said.
He poured me more brandy and said, ”And here is Buba, coming in.”
I turned around and barely managed to keep the gla.s.s in my grip. I recognized Buba.
Chapter TEN.
He stood by the door looking about him as though trying to remember where he had come and what he was to do there. His appearance was very unlike his old one, but I recognized him at once anyway, because for four years we sat next to each other in the lecture halls of the school, and then there were several years when we met almost daily.
”Say,” I addressed the bartender. ”They call him Buba?”
”Uhuh,” said the bartender.
”What is it -- a nickname?”
”How should I know? Buba is Buba, that's what they all call him.”
”Peck,” I cried.
Everyone looked at me. He too slowly turned his head and his eyes searched for the caller. But he paid no attention to me. As though remembering something, he suddenly started to shake the water out of his cape with convulsive motions, and then, dragging his heels, hobbled over to the bar and climbed with difficulty on the stool next to mine.