60
PARTISAN REVIEW
ther had dug up this old and probably valuable engraving in a Neapolitan
antique shop and bought it for almost nothing. "A Masonic engraving," he
added with a crisp laugh. An open compass at the top and a trowel at the
bottom, between them an enormous eye. A stylized inscription underneath
proclaimed it the
Occhio della PTOvidenza,
the Eye of Providence. Whatever
it was, a clever trick of the artist's pen or the play of the bright light reflected
from the lamp and the moon shining through the window, the Eye of Provi–
dence seemed to change its expression constantly depending on the angle of
view. Stern and formidable; nasty and angry; pleasant and good-natured;
somnolent and indifferent; lifeless and dull.
Una vera diavoleria,
Malcolm said
in Italian and again uttered a short laugh. There was a peculiar, elusive note
that rang hollow in his laugh."
"It's two o'clock. You'd better get something
to
eat and have a little rest
after lunch. I'll expect you again at five."
* * *
"Before resuming our conversation, I should like
to
make two
suggestions. First. I may be mistaken, but I sense a certain reserve and cau–
tion in your answers. If my impression is correct, let me suggest you change
your attitude. There is no harm or good you can do your murdered friend,
but on the other hand, whenever you sound evasive, it unnecessarily reflects
on you. Unnecessarily and with no reason at all. I repeat, there is no doubt
about that whatsoever. The other suggestion is a bit premature, I am antici–
pating what you may want
to
tell me later. I read somewhere that you
Eastern Europeans have a tendency to construct hypotheses on rather
flimsy premises, sniffing out conspiracy and hidden machinations everywhere,
what we call
dietrismo,
and trying to cut everything up, neatly or coarsely as
the case may be, into parts that are all black or white. My remarks may well
come as a surprise to you; they may strike you as rather inappropriate in
the mouth ofa police commissioner, but the basis of our thinking and the way
we live is the
pasticcio.
Whether it is a braided coil or an alloy, there are so
many different elements mixed up in it that it would be madness
to
try to
separate the single strands, an absolutely unfeasible task. And it would be
pernicious too. Yes, yes, in some way it would be pernicious.
Pasticcio
is our
daily bread, we take our nourishment from it the same way we eat the
casserole we call by the same name, a casserole we throw everything at
hand into, and ultimately - I dare say - we are none the worse for it. So let
me suggest, dear sir, please, no hypothetical constructs, no suppositions or
dietTismi,
no reading between the lines. Just the facts, only facts. Why do I
