Free The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs by Alexander McCall Smith

of a psalm and he wished to ponder it further.
    It was while he was studying this text that the doors suddenly opened and the attendant wearily admitted a large group of Japanese visitors. There was a collective intake of breath as they saw the painted ceiling. Several dozen cameras were immediately produced and flashes of light followed hard upon one another. Then the leader of the group gave a cry when he noticed von Igelfeld and called out some command in Japanese. This was the signal for a large group, cameras at the ready, to advance upon von Igelfeld.
    ‘Tall sir,’ said the leader as he approached. ‘Be so kind as to stand with me in this photograph.’
    Without waiting for an answer, the leader positioned himself next to von Igelfeld and looked up at him in admiration.
    ‘You would be a living monument in Japan,’ he said politely. ‘Japanese people like very tall people and very tall trees.’
    Von Igelfeld stood tight-lipped as the photographs were taken. Really, the whole morning was proving to be quite insupportable. Firstly there had been the tactlessness of the Prinzels, and now there was this Japanese imposition. It was all too much, and as soon as the Japanese had departed he announced to the Prinzels that he had decided to leave and that he would meet them at lunch. It transpired that they, too, were beginning to find the library oppressive and would welcome some fresh air. So the German party left and soon found itself seated in a pleasant pavement café, with the soft morning sun warm upon their brows and the flags waving in a balmy breeze. There was no more talk of hedgehogs and von Igelfeld decided that he would overlook the earlier, ill-advised remarks of his friends. One did not come to Italy to argue; one came to Italy to allow the soul to bask in the sheer beauty of art and its ennobling possibilities.
    Von Igelfeld enjoyed his siesta that day. It had been an exhausting morning in one way or another, and when they returned to the hotel after lunch he felt disinclined to do anything but sleep. He woke up shortly after four and read for three hours or so before venturing out for a short walk. He was due to meet the Prinzels for dinner at eight, in a restaurant which had been recommended to them by the hotel manager, and he decided to spend the hour until then wandering about the back alleys of the town. This was a time when people were quite lively, preparing for their evening meal, gossiping with one another, performing the final chores of the day.
    He was walking up a narrow street – too narrow for cars, but wide enough for the occasional hurtling moped – when he felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned round sharply and saw the Patriarch standing behind him.
    ‘Professor von Igelfeld,’ said the priest. ‘I hoped that it was you.’
    Von Igelfeld greeted him courteously. Was he enjoying the evening? he asked. And how was the Duke? Had he seen him?
    ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said the Patriarch quickly. ‘Wonderful evening. The Duke is in good spirits. I saw him this morning.’
    Von Igelfeld waited for something more to be said, but the Patriarch merely looked over his shoulder furtively. Then he turned round and tugged at von Igelfeld’s sleeve again.
    ‘Could we please talk for a moment?’ he asked. ‘There is a little courtyard here on the right. It is always deserted.’
    Intrigued, von Igelfeld followed as the Patriarch led him into the dusty, disused courtyard. The Patriarch still seemed anxious and only when they had crossed to the farther side of the courtyard did he begin to talk.
    ‘Professor von Igelfeld,’ he began. ‘I should like to ask a favour of you. I need your help. Indeed, the whole Church needs your help.’
    For a moment, von Igelfeld was at a loss as to what to say. ‘But I don’t see how I can help the Church . . . ’
    The Patriarch brushed aside the objection. ‘You can help in a way which is small, but which is also big. Small and big.’
    The Patriarch had