Free Oliver VII by Antal Szerb Page A

Count Antas is on holiday here in Venice.”
    “Ah, the old idiot! Luckily he’s no concern of ours any more.”
    “Not entirely. Tell me, er … old chap,” he enunciated painfully, “what would happen if he, or anyone else, were to recognise you in your present—in our present—situation?”
    “In the first place, they wouldn’t recognise me, because I’ve cut off my moustache and side whiskers—they really made me stand out—and now I look like someone else; in fact, just like anyone else. And what, pray, is your objection to our present situation?”
    “Well, you know … ”
    “I don’t know! We’re South American planters. Perhaps that’s not a good enough occupation?”
    “A good occupation? Thank you very much. It was a real idiot who gave Your High … you … that idea, my dear fellow. The moment we said we were planters people became suspicious . It’s why St Germain’s lot decided straight away that we were con men.”
    “So then?”
    “Well, so there was no point, if I might express myself freely, old fellow” (in his mind’s eye Sandoval could see Mawiras-Tendal making a bow each time he mouthed “old fellow”) “in your making up that long story … ”
    “What ‘long story’?”
    “Well, how you diddled twenty-four locomotives out of that American railroad king.”
    “Look, my dear Milán, everyone shows off when he finally gets to meet the girl he’s been skulking after for days. When I realised what line of trade Marcelle’s lot were in, I thought a story like that might be just the thing to help establish a good working relationship with them.”
    “I was just amazed that that old fox St Germain actually believed we were, er … in the same line of business.”
    “It’s really strange; but you see, he did believe me. And that’s the thing. For once in my crummy life something came off.”
    “But that’s precisely why we shouldn’t form that sort of casual connection with these people. I mean, the fact is, we have ended up as … members of a gang.”
    “And so? At least that way I’ll really get to see life from below. That’s what I’ve always wanted … and besides, I’ll be able to be with Marcelle all the time.”
    “But I’m sorry, that situation has certain practical consequences , which do you no credit and could easily put you in danger. While I fully acknowledge Mlle Marcelle’s feminine charms, and respect the intimate relationship between you two, I really can’t approve, for example, of the fact that we have accepted money from St Germain. It’s awkward, to put it mildly.”
    “You can rest assured that I’ll give him all his money back, down to the last centesimo. But until then, we do have to take it, or Marcelle will become suspicious.”
    “We really must get away from Venice, before some really serious danger arises, some huge scandal that will hit the whole of Europe. Just think what would happen if word got out that the former monarch of Alturia had become a … con-man.”
    “Now please, Milán, you always look on the dark side of things. You know perfectly well I have managed so far to steerclear of anything that might be called confidence trickery. But every woman calls for some small sacrifice.”
    For a while nothing more was said. Sandoval could hear the sound of footsteps. It seemed the King was striding up and down the room. Finally, he spoke again.
    “No, my dear Milán, there’s no question of my leaving, now that I’m at last beginning to enjoy myself. You won’t understand this, because you were never a king. If I don’t keep all that firmly behind me, I will never get to know life.”
    “Your Highness … I mean, my dear fellow … I can to some extent understand what you’re saying, though for my own part I have never wanted to get to know ‘life’ better. I always had too much to do. What I don’t understand is why you insist on this particular version of it. What makes you think that the Lido, and its idlers