The Laughter of Carthage Read Online Free PDF Page B

shall always protect you.’
     
    She shook her pretty head, again close to tears. ‘You have already been captured once. If it were to happen in Venice . . .’
     
    ‘It cannot happen in Venice. These are genuinely civilised countries. You can’t know what that means yet, but you must have faith in me.’
     
    I spent the rest of the evening calming her. Eventually she began carefully to take clothes out of cupboards and drawers and inspect them, like a sensible little Hausfrau. Then slowly she folded her silk dresses. Just before ten I kissed her and was off downstairs to keep the appointment with my volatile Baroness.
     
    Tokatlian’s was impossibly crowded. The uniforms of a dozen nations squeezed together at the tables, frequently sandwiching soft, naked shoulders. As usual the band played its hideous jazz while waiters were scarcely able to push through the mass to find their customers. Arabs in burnooses and Turks in fezzes, Albanians in sheepskin, Montenegrans in felt, Circassians in leather, argued together and sang together or separately collapsed in corners. Russians in magnificent Tsarist uniforms, all of them looking the image of the late Emperor, picked their way from place to place, looking for friends, asking after lost relatives, producing rings, necklaces, small ikons from their pockets to sell to haughty Levantines. These aristocrats had learned to beg. For generations their ancestors, disdaining all forms of commerce, had looked down on influential financiers and great merchants. Now, reduced to the level of bazaar boys, they carried their pathetic goods wherever they went, unable even to afford the rent of a market cubicle. At first, in the dim light, I did not see the Baroness who was already seated at a window table. Then a tram went by outside and its glaring lights revealed her. She was wearing her best red and black dress and what remained of her jewellery. Her back was unnaturally stiff, a sign of deep nervousness. She saw me and waved. When I eventually reached her and sat down I noted how heavily painted she was. She had been weeping. ‘You should not cry,’ I said. ‘Your fears clouded your mind. You made hasty decisions.’
     
    ‘I don’t think I missed the essentials,’ she said firmly. ‘You must not lie to me any more, Maxim. If we are to save you, you’ll have to swear from now on to tell me the whole truth.’
     
    I sat back, making a display of offended pride. ‘My dear Leda, I do not intend to be questioned by anyone about my decisions! I should have thought my word would do. I have had my fill of interrogation during these last days!’
     
    ‘But you must tell me the truth.’ She was emphatic. ‘Do you swear?’
     
    I inclined my head, ‘If you like. Very well, I swear.’
     
    ‘I need to know exactly what hold she has over you. You’re so utterly impressionable. She could lead you into any trap, you know. Are you afraid of her?’
     
    ‘Of course not.’
     
    ‘You said you would tell me the truth.’
     
    Reluctantly, I was forced to say what she wanted to hear. Frequently that is what people are actually demanding. ‘I am a little scared,’ I admitted. ‘She has relatives in Constantinople. They might be criminals.’
     
    ‘She hinted at some of this. Doubtless they in turn have contacts with the Turkish rebels. Did they threaten to expose you?’
     
    She knew nothing of Siniutkin’s part in my kidnapping. I thought it best not to confuse her. ‘I went to meet the Count in Scutari.’ The waiter came over so I dropped my voice. Leda ordered us a light meal. ‘When I got there I was bundled into a car. Next thing, I was being driven inland!’
     
    ‘And you still did not suspect her?’
     
    ‘At the time, it did not even occur to me.’
     
    Leda now wore an expression which was new to me, a mixture of moral urgency and depravity suggesting I was right to believe her mad. Thus, I became willing, more than ever, to humour her. ‘Then that was