The Three Evangelists Read Online Free PDF Page A

downstairs, he pulled on a sweater and a pair of trousers.
    ‘I did tell him that sandals were not enough,’ said Lucien.
    ‘Now can you please hold your tongue, when we see her?’ said Marc.
    ‘It’s not so easy to hold your tongue, and you know it.’
    ‘True,’ Marc admitted. ‘But trust me. I know this neighbour, I’ll open to her.’
    ‘How do you know her?’
    ‘I told you. We talked once. About a tree’.
    ‘What tree?’
    ‘A little beech tree.’

VII
    FEELING AWKWARD, SOPHIA SAT BOLT UPRIGHT ON THE CHAIR THEY had offered her. After leaving Greece, her life had accustomed her either to receive or to refuse entrance to journalists and fans, but not to go knocking on doors. It must have been twenty years since she last went to call on someone, like this, without notice. And now that she was sitting in this room, with the three men around her, she wondered what they must think of this tedious visit from a neighbour coming to call. People don’t do that these days. So she was tempted to begin by explaining herself. Were they the kind of persons one could explain things to, as she had come to believe from her second-floor look-out? Sometimes it’s different when you see people close to. There was Marc, half sitting, half standing at the big wooden table, crossing his lanky legs: an attractive pose, and an attractive face, looking at her without impatience. Opposite her sat Mathias, with handsome features too, a little heavy in the jaw, but with limpid blue eyes, straightforward and calm. Lucien, who was busying himself with glasses and bottles, tossing his hair back from time to time, had the face of a child and the collar and tie of a man. She felt reassured. Why else had she come after all, except that she was already frightened?
    ‘Look,’ she said, taking the glass which Lucien had offered her with a smile. ‘I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’ve come to ask a favour.’
    Two faces waited for her to go on. It was time to explain, but how was she going to broach such a ridiculous subject? Lucien wasn’t listening.He was coming and going, the complicated dish he was cooking requiring all his attention.
    ‘It’s a really silly thing. But I need to ask a favour,’ Sophia said again.
    ‘What sort of favour?’ Marc asked gently, encouraging her.
    ‘It’s hard to ask, and I know you have been working very hard these last weeks. But I need someone to dig a hole in my garden.’
    ‘Major offensive on the Western Front,’ murmured Lucien.
    ‘Of course,’ Sophia was hurrying on, ‘I would be prepared to pay, if we could agree. Should we say … three thousand francs, for the three of you?’
    ‘Three thousand francs, for digging a hole?’ Marc murmured.
    ‘Attempt at subornation by enemy forces,’ muttered Lucien under his breath.
    Sophia was uncomfortable. And yet she thought she had come to the right place, and that she should press on.
    ‘Yes, three thousand francs, for digging a hole. And for saying nothing about it.’
    ‘But,’ Marc started to say,‘– Madame …?’
    ‘Relivaux, Sophia Relivaux. I’m your neighbour, from next door, on the right.’
    ‘No,’ Mathias said quietly, ‘you’re not.’
    ‘Yes I am,’ said Sophia. ‘I’m your next-door neighbour.’
    ‘Very true,’ Mathias replied, still speaking softly. ‘But you aren’t Sophia Relivaux. You are the wife of Monsieur Relivaux. But you are Sophia Siméonidis.’
    Marc and Lucien were staring at Mathias, astonished. Sophia smiled.
    ‘Lyric soprano,’ said Mathias. ‘Manon Lescaut”, “Madame Butterfly”, “Aïda”, Desdemona, “La Bohème”, “Elektra” … and you haven’t sung now for six years. Allow me to say how honoured I am to have you as a neighbour.’
    With this, Mathias bowed his head as if in homage. Sophia looked at him and thought, yes, this was indeed the right house to have come to. She gave a happy sigh, as she looked round the large room, now with its tiled floor and plastered