After Hannibal Read Online Free PDF

to people who have bought houses in Umbria and want to have them put to rights.”
    Blemish nodded. He had registered the fact that the Greens had friends, family, possible support. But it was distant; it did not seem likely that they had close connections in Italy. “Yes,” he said, “we undertake the management of the whole project from the moment of purchase.”
    “We got off to a bad start,” Mr. Green said. They had madethe cardinal mistake of trying to get the work done while they were still living in Michigan, attempting to communicate by phone and fax, and making occasional visits.
    “We were spending a whole lot of money and getting nowhere,” Mrs. Green said. “People made promises but nothing happened.”
    Blemish sighed and shook his head. “Yours is a story we hear frequently. In this country they tell you what they think you would like to hear. That is their way, you know. That is the Mediterranean temperament. One of the most important aspects of our work here is mediating between different cultures, bridging the gap.”
    “We could never find out the true situation,” Mr. Green said. He looked at Blemish and smiled. His face was fine-drawn and the smile came slowly but it was as guileless in its way as the eyes. “We were beginning to lose trust in folks and that is one mistake we don’t want to start making at our time of life.”
    Unable to see any meaning in this last remark, Blemish blinked softly and waited. He had a slow, strangely voluptuous way of lowering his eyelids when he wanted to show sympathy.
    “We always thought of coming to live in Umbria when we retired,” Mrs. Green said. “We came here for vacations when we could afford it and sort of looked around. Our daughter wanted us to go to Florida but we always loved Italian art and history, especially the early Renaissance.”
    “And the landscape and the light,” Mr. Green said. “The whole deal.”
    “All that too.” Mrs. Green smiled at Blemish. “That is thesetting, isn’t it? I mean it can’t be separated. This is where those wonderful artists lived.”
    “Well of course,” Blemish said; “it makes the property more desirable, without the shadow of a doubt.”
    Mr. Green widened his eyes with a sort of gleeful solemnity. “We came to Italy for our honeymoon, you know.” He pointed at the wall behind Blemish. “We bought that print in Florence forty years ago,” he said. “At the Uffizi Gallery.”
    Turning, Blemish saw a picture of a nearly naked, long-haired man standing in a stream and another pouring something over his head out of a sort of metal cup. A white bird hovered above with outstretched wings and there were two blue-gowned kneeling figures at the side. “A highly professional piece of work, that is,” he said. “Yes, very striking.”
    “First thing we did when we came to live in this house was to put it up on the wall. Andrea del Verrocchio. One of the greatest painters of all time. We saw the original all those years ago when we were just married and we never got to see it again.”
    “We are saving it up,” Mrs. Green said. “We are saving it till the house is finished. When everything is done and we are really settled in we are going to make a trip to Florence and stand in front of that picture.”
    “We were both art teachers, you know.” Mr. Green smiled at his wife with open affection. “We met at art school. Lucky day for me.”
    “A fair number of our clients have artistic leanings,” Blemish said, “especially in the Trasimeno area.”
    “We took the plunge, sold up and came over here. It seems to be the only way to get things done. Then the architect kept revising the estimate—it doubled in the course of a single month. We have got rid of her now.”
    They would have had to pay a tidy sum for that too. Blemish felt a pang at the thought of this wasted money. “You don’t need an architect at all,” he said. “All they know is how to draw up plans.”
    The Greens talked