Headwinds. Sybil Kempel

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ nod of greeting with an insincere smile that Dixon returned her cordially. The other place was occupied by a dapper mannequin who must have been a hundred years old and looked like one hundred and fifty: he kept shuffling a deck of cards with shaking hands.

       "Whist?" he asked.

       "Something lighter. I don't want to concentrate too much tonight" Dixon answered and smiled leaning towards him as if to give him a confidence.

       "And why of grace?" the other asked, shocked. Dixon chuckled and waved him over.

       "We'll see some good ones" he said in a low voice.

       "I don't understand" the other said.

       "Colonel, you will see, you will see." said Dixon slyly.

       "Mr. Dixon always has information that transcends the average knowledge of most of the inhabitants of this country" Colonel Sanders said, addressing the lady.

       "Otherwise it wouldn't be Dixon" she said. Then she turned to him: "You are lucky, Alexander. This evening I don't want to play much either''

       The colonel snorted: "Then I'll have to find other comrades if I want to do something serious" and, having said that, he got up from the table and staggered over to a group of men who laughed aloud on a sofa nearby.

       Suddenly Dixon nodded toward the door to his playmate who turned away. His expression turned into an ironic grin: "Italy honors us with its presence this evening" he said contemptuously.

       "That country has great nautical traditions..." muttered Dixon, feigning remorse.

       "Country of saints and sailors..." the other replied, descending a king. Dixon frowned and answered with a jack. The triumphant woman picked up the spot and waited for Dixon to make the next move.

       The player had placed himself in a strategic position, his face turned towards the door and observed the abundant guest who had just entered, while ceremoniously carrying out the ritual of greetings.

       "I wonder if she's ever been on a boat..." the lady asked sharply as she waited for her opponent's move.

       "On one of those tubs of theirs... as they call them... the pedaloes..." Dixon said pronouncing the word in Italian and chuckled as he dropped an ace.

       "Oh!" Said the surprised woman. "You won this time too" he said, laying down the papers with dignity. The fat adversary spread his hands with condescending grace, then nodded to the waiter uttering a slight whistle that had the effect of attracting the attention of the lady who had just entered.

       "Alexaaander" she said in English with an unmistakable Italian accent.

       Dixon stood up as she came near him, holding out his hand to her. He took her and showed off an impeccable kiss that made her radiant.

       "Can I sit at your table?" he asked while the other looked at her grimly.

       "Of course, Madame Lorenzi" Dixon replied, treading his voice on the 'madame' and winking at his playmate who merely smiled sourly and nodded.

       "We need one more player" he said, after shuffling the deck.

       "I think he's coming in now" Dixon said with a nod to Davis, who was just crossing the threshold at that moment. All eyes instantly turned toward him.

       Signora Lorenzi jumped up like a spring and approached Davis, blessed. He bowed stiffly: "Madame Lorenzi. I find you in an excellent shape" he said unconvincingly. Happy for the attention he had aroused about her, this sudden, even if expected, entrance, broke up and showed a little more than the convenience, the pleasure of that meeting.

       "We wondered, my husband and I" she said ceremoniously, "what happened to you. We haven't seen you for a long time.''

       "I was very busy," Davis replied, handing his walking jacket to the waiter who had been pushed by Webb to him.

       "Davis. I'm glad he came to visit us," he said, intruding. Even towards him Davis made an imperceptible bow, then he cut the width of the room with a hard glance.

       "Nothing has changed here, has it? It is consoling to know that at least one place on earth can be found as it is left without fear of change... '' he observed and left them both doubting whether he had made a compliment rather than a sharp and not too veiled criticism.

       He walked towards the bar, pointing to some greetings here and there and making those he paid attention to happy.

       After this entry, life slowly returned and the chatter slowly resumed, even though they were all glimpses and silent appeals to those who had now become the center of attention. Signora Lorenzi did not want to give up and while chatting with a young woman she approached the bar carelessly.

       Davis was alone in front of a glass of hot grog. He seemed unhappy and it was not clear if this was his normal attitude or if there was something in that meeting that disgusted or annoyed him. When he saw Dixon, he started toward him, shuffling the cards. Signora Lorenzi quickly preceded him and when she arrived at the table she found herself sitting in the place of the fourth player, drawing a dazzling smile.

       Dixon watched him ostentatiously indifferently as he sat down at the table, then waved his glass at him, draining it in a gulp, and said amiably: "A little party, Markus?"

       He shielded himself and then said poisonously: "Just don't take it as you did last time..."

       Alxander made an amused gesture: "It's the salt of the game. Besides, you too are not really an indifferent player, I think...'' he insinuated. We are even. Davis had little to do with him. Dixon was in that phase of life when the hesitations began to disappear to leave the field to a rough frankness, at times unpleasant but truthful, and all this made it overall more interesting than all the congenies of flatterers that crowded the halls where find those who matter. Davis looked him over for a long time: after all, it was because of what he felt attracted to that drunk fat. From him he knew that he should not expect discounts on his behavior: even if education prevented him from being vulgar, his aggressive irony masked a resentment that made him sincere and all in all reliable. The only flaw was his insatiable curiosity and the inability to hold back the words, two faculties that turned him into an incurable gossip, but that still made him the most reliable source of news of the place, especially in terms of salacity concerning the nice sex.

       For his part, Dixon enjoyed that skirmish: finally someone not mediocre with whom to play a level game. Between the two of them it had always been this way, from the beginning: allusions, salacity, winks and even some complicity had made their knowledge stimulating and a source of pleasure for each other. This is why Dixon was waiting for the right moment to give the incoming friend a sign.

       Mrs Lorenzi, a little disoriented by all this bustle of intentions and relationships, candidly asked: "What are we playing for?"

       She was struck by Davis: "Whist, of course"

       "I give my place to someone else," said the other woman, starting to stand up.

       "Via Mrs. Turner..." Dixon begged her, "I didn't want anything challenging either, but in similar conditions and with similar players" and he mentioned Davis and Lorenzi"

       The woman gave a labored sigh and sat down again.

       "Even in Italy the tradition of СКАЧАТЬ