The Madonna of Notre Dame Read Online Free PDF Page A

happened, Mourad.”
    “There was this guy—we know him well—he’s been coming here for months. He’s a bit—how can I put it?”
    “A bit of an oddball.”
    “That’s right, a bid of an oddball. Sometimes, it’s as if he thinks the Virgin Mary’s his sister, you know? Or his mother.”
    “I get the picture, yes.”
    “He prays and cries at her feet. Lies down on the stone floor, takes pictures of her, tries to touch her, brings her flowers. Every evening, when we close up, it’s always the same thing. He doesn’t want to leave, he wants to stay and sleep with the Virgin of the Pillar.”
    “Which one’s the Virgin of the Pillar?”
    “It’s the statue over there, to the right of the podium. She’s the one on all the postcards, guidebooks, candles.”
    “On the candles, too?”
    “Yes, sure, on the candles, look.” Mourad went to get a candle from one of the stands.
    “And so this guy who’s so in love with the Virgin Mary, who did he try to beat up?”
    “This girl in white walking next to it.”
    “Next to what?”
    “Next to the statue of the Virgin. She’d been walking there since the start of the procession. Next to it, in front of it. It’s true that after a while, she was beginning to disturb everyone.”
    “Who’s everyone?”
    “The auxiliary bishop, the priests, the knights. Everybody, really.”
    “Who are these knights, again?”
    “The Knights of the Holy Sepulcher, the ones who carry the silver statue of the Virgin on its stretcher. It must weigh at least four hundred and fifty pounds, you know.”
    “And why would this girl have disturbed your knights?”
    “Because she was very beautiful and her dress was very short. At one point, the Head Honcho even asked me to go talk to her.”
    “Who’s the Head Honcho?”
    “The rector. It’s what we call him among ourselves, but don’t go repeating it.”
    “So the Head Honcho himself told you to go to the chick in the miniskirt, to ask her to walk farther away, otherwise the knights, the priests, and the auxiliary bishop would be sweating buckets. Is that right?”
    Mourad just smiled in reply.
    “And so what did the girl say to you?”
    “I didn’t get a chance to speak to her because the other guy went for her. Grabbed her by the hair, started shaking her, calling her a prostitute, a whore, a slut, all sorts of stuff. That sheshould leave the Virgin Mary alone, that she should follow her example, that the Virgin is the woman above all women.”
    “And what did you do at that point, Mourad?”
    “I grabbed the kid by the neck and flattened him on the ground with my knee. Then I asked the girl if she was OK, if she wanted me to call the police, because her lip was bleeding a bit.”
    “And?”
    “Well, she didn’t want to call the police. She said, ‘What are you doing here? Why are you working for these people?’”
    “What did she mean by that?”
    “How should I know?”
    Gombrowicz had been fidgeting for a while, ever since Mourad had started talking about the attack. “Tell him, Mourad, tell him what you told me earlier. What language was the girl speaking?”
    “With me? Well, Arabic, of course.”
    Landard burst out laughing. “You’re right, Mourad, what else could you and she have been speaking? After all, we’re in France, right? And then?”
    “Then I told the kid I didn’t want to see him for the rest of the day. He ran away saying it was a topsy-turvy world, and telling me to go back home.”
    “And what do you think he meant by that, Mourad?”
    Mourad looked intently into Landard’s eyes. “You know perfectly well what he meant, inspector.”
    Landard rummaged in his jacket pocket but could find only a dark blue, crushed, empty pack. “OK, Mourad. And then what happened?”
    “Then the procession went back into the cathedral for Solemn Mass.”
    “And was the girl in white at Solemn Mass?”
    “In the front row, with her legs crossed.”
    “All right. And then?”
    “Then, at the end