The Sermon on the Fall of Rome, стр. 41

question to himself, he stared at the letter as if it had come to him from a remote yet strangely familiar galaxy, one whose glimmering light awoke in him faint echoes of another life. He stowed the letter in his pocket and forgot about it as he began uncorking bottles of champagne in honor of Sarah’s departure. She had fallen in love with a horse breeder who had recently asked her to go and live with him, somewhere in the Taravo valley. He was a man of about forty who throughout the winter had been notable only for his suspicious sobriety and his persistence in traveling the miles that lay between the bar and his remote village in the back of beyond whatever the weather. He would settle down at one end of the counter with a sparkling mineral water in front of him, apparently absorbed in mysterious meditation. He did not look at the waitresses, did not try to touch their buttocks or make them laugh, even going so far as to politely refuse Annie’s caresses of welcome, and it was impossible to guess at what moment and by what means he had somehow managed to form a romantic attachment to Sarah, who now had her arms around his neck and was covering him with kisses and making him drink champagne. Pierre-Emmanuel was singing love songs with comic emphasis, he put down his guitar to be given a drink and ruffled Virgile Ordioni’s sparse hair as he pointed to the happy couple,

“Just look at them, Virgile. One day you might find yourself a sweetheart too!”

and Virgile blushed and laughed and said,

“I might, why not? You never know,”

and Pierre-Emmanuel tweaked his ear and shouted out,

“Oh, you dirty old man! So you like the girls, do you? You’re a right one, you are!”

and picked up his guitar again, not sparing the tremolos, and embarked on the tale of a young woman so beautiful that her godmother could only have been a fairy. At two o’clock in the morning Sarah got her things together, loaded them into her new partner’s mud-spattered 4x4 and came to say her farewells. Rym cried as she hugged her and made her promise to send news of her happiness, Sarah promised to do so and wept a few tears as she kissed each of the people she was leaving, she told Matthieu and Libero that having met them was the best thing that had ever happened to her, she would never forget them, the place she was going to would be always their home from home, which the horse breeder from Taravo confirmed with a nod, and Matthieu watched her leaving with an almost paternal emotion, for he was convinced that his protective shadow would forever extend over Sarah’s life. Matthieu was particularly pleased with himself and was vexed to note that Libero did not share this happy mood, he was pacing up and down impatiently, going out onto the terrace for repeated consultations with Vincent Leandri, and berated the girls for persisting in their foolish sobbing instead of finishing their work and clearing the floor before going off to snivel in bed, or wherever, if that was what they preferred. When the girls had left Annie suggested remaining behind to receive any insomniac customers who chanced by. Libero looked daggers at her.

“No! you get going as well. You’d do better to get some sleep. You look an absolute wreck.”

She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind and went out without a word, leaving Libero alone with Vincent Leandri and Matthieu, who seemed at a complete loss.

“Is it seeing Sarah go that’s made you lose it like that?”

“No. It’s Annie. She’s robbing us, the bitch. I’m sure of it.”

Since the start of the season Annie had adopted the habit of staying behind in the bar after closing time, which an arbitrary by-law had unreasonably fixed at three o’clock in the morning. When Libero or Matthieu had gone home with the contents of the till and the revolver in his belt, she remained heroically perched on her stool behind the counter, ready to serve the last of the drunkards who were scouring the area in search of a hospitable haven where they could complete their excursion into alcoholic oblivion. In the unlikely event of a visit from the forces of law and order she could claim that the bar was closed, the till cashed up and she was simply enjoying a private drink with friends. She only made up the receipts at the very last moment, when it was certain there were no police at large in the area. At first this stratagem, which could only be applauded as an act of civil resistance to the tyranny of the State, made everyone happy: the wandering drunkards, overwhelmed with gratitude, could now count on a stopping-off place, Annie was rewarded for her devotion by generous tips, which were added to her overtime payment, and the bar’s turnover was increased. It could sometimes happen, of course, that Annie waited for customers in vain, and indeed this was occurring more and more frequently, but this did not alert Libero until Vincent Leandri chanced to mention to him that some friends from Ajaccio had dropped in for a drink the previous Saturday after leaving a club, although Annie had told him she had not seen anyone that night. Libero asked Vincent Leandri if he was certain of the date and what drinks his friends had had and in what quantities, so Vincent had called and asked them to confirm for themselves that his information was correct. Libero was incensed and it seemed nothing would calm him, in tones of fatalism tinged with wisdom Vincent pointed out that waitresses had always helped themselves from the till, it was a law of nature and vainly urged him to be indulgent, while Matthieu kept repeating that it was not as serious as all that, but he refused to listen to them, he