NORMAN MANEA
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all translate, it's become the law of survival, hasn't it? Good. We're all
replacements and translators, no?"
"But what about the translator's file? His
curriculum vitae,
his police
record? His mother, father, brothers, and sisters, political affiliations -
kept particularly for special cases! Argentina's a special case, isn't it? The
Argentine circus: generals who are continually visiting this country be–
cause we're sister Latins and sister menageries, isn't that so? And then,
gospodin,
what do you know about the post of receptionist at the tem–
ple of fornicators? There's no way you can know,
panie.
For the time
being we are killed by messengers, by intermediaries, not by the Chief
Star and his Saints. Petty auxiliaries, substitutes - even me. A substitute,
sir, you know what I mean only too well. It's a world of substitutes,
this circus of ours. Any tenant on the flattened planet knows it already.
Anyone knows it, my dear sir. Even you do, I'm sure."
The professor remained in the weak candlelight, while Herr Matai
received in darkness, and in silence, the words streaming from the tenant
Anatol Dominic Vancea Voinov, called Tolea.
After a pause for breath, Herr Matai finally replied.
"As a matter of fact, I came here to suggest - why hide it? If you
need some - to be blunt, if you need some money. I'm not a man of
wealth, you know. Still, I came to offer you - I would be able - I'm
prepared to -"
"As a loan, eh?"
"Well, of course. Otherwise.
"Goo-ood. Perfect! As a loan, I accept. Look,
Panie
Matei, I accept.
agree about the loan . Any time, any way, any amount. I was afraid
that when you left I might find an envelope stuffed with crisp notes .
You're still sitting in the dark there . You could easily slip me your
delicate gift without being seen. I don't like philanthropists, you know.
I'm glad you don't belong to that dubious category. You're even a
little stingy, Mr. Grafton, sir. I hope you don't mind the fact that I was
watching. I confess an unshakable respect for this imposing sign of
seriousness. Meanness is a serious matter: it deserves every honor!
Only
simpletons think it's a defect. It makes me all the more moved by your
offer, you realize."
The professor was speaking very fast, his eyes turned away from the
other man and almost glued to the black window. The sentences seemed
to ricochet from the glass in which the darkness of night was reflected.
He half felt that his guest had stood up and was right beside the win–
dow, that Gafton-the-beanstalk was already on his left, bent over an in–
visible shadow. He felt, or maybe he didn't - and anyway, he didn't care
