Free Turkish Gambit by Boris Akunin Page B

was that Paladin was still playing his stupid game of chess. But the end was obviously close now: all of McLaughlin's other opponents had already capitulated, and the Frenchman's position was clearly hopeless. Even so, he did not seem downhearted, and he kept glancing in Varya's direction, smiling light-heartedly and whistling a fashionable little chansonette.
    Sobolev stood beside him, looked at the board and absent-mindedly took up the refrain: 'Folichon-folichonet . . . Give in, Paladin, this is your Waterloo.'
    'The guards die before they surrender,' said the Frenchman, tugging on his narrow, pointed beard, and finally decided on a move that made the Irishman frown and heave a sigh.
    Varya went outside for a moment to admire the sunset and enjoy the cool of the evening, and when she went back into the marquee, the chessboards had been cleared away and the conversation had moved on to the exalted topic of man's relations with God.
    'Any kind of mutual respect is entirely out of the question,' McLaughlin was saying passionately, evidently in response to some remark made by Paladin. 'Man's relations with the Almighty are founded on the conscious acknowledgement of inequality. After all, children would never think of claiming equality with their parents! The child unconditionally accepts the supremacy of the parent and its dependence on him,- it feels reverence for him and therefore it obeys him - for its own good.'
    'Permit me in replying to employ your own metaphor,' said the Frenchman, smiling as he drew on a Turkish chibouk. 'All this is only correct with regard to little children. When a child grows somewhat older, it inevitably begins to query the authority of its parent, even though the latter is still incomparably more wise and powerful. This is natural and healthy, for without it man would remain a little infant for ever. This is the very stage to which mankind has progressed at the present time. Later, when mankind becomes even more mature, it will most certainly establish new and different relations with God, based on equality and mutual respect. And at some stage the child will grow sufficiently mature not to have any further need of a parent at all.'
    'Bravo, Paladin, you speak as elegantly as you write!' Petya exclaimed. 'But the whole point is surely that God does not exist, while matter and the elementary principles of decent behaviour do. I recommend you use your concept for a feuilleton in the Revue Parisienne-, it would make an excellent topic'
    'One does not need a topic in order to write a good feuilleton,' the Frenchman declared. 'One simply needs to know how to write well.'
    'Now that's going a bit too far,' McLaughlin objected. 'Without a topic even a verbal acrobat such as yourself cannot produce anything worthwhile.'
    'Name any object you like, even the most trivial, and I will write you an article about it that my paper will be delighted to print,' said Paladin, holding out his hand. 'Shall we have a wager? My Spanish saddle for your Zeiss binoculars.'
    Everybody livened up remarkably at that.
    'Two hundred roubles on Paladin,' declared Sobolev.
    'Any subject?' the Irishman said slowly. 'Absolutely any subject at all?'
    'Absolutely. Even that fly over there sitting on Colonel Lukan's moustache.'
    The Roumanian hastily shook his moustache and said: 'I bet three hundred on Monsieur McLaughlin. But what will the subject be?'
    'Well, why not those old boots of yours?' said McLaughlin, jabbing a finger in the direction of the Frenchman's ancient calf-leather footgear. 'Try writing something about those that will send the reading public of Paris into raptures.'
    Sobolev threw his hands up in the air. 'Before they shake hands on it, I pass. Old boots are just too outlandish altogether.'
    In the end a thousand roubles was bet on the Irishman and the Frenchman was left without any backers. Varya felt sorry for poor Paladin, but neither she nor Petya had any money.
    She went across to Fandorin, who was still