cup of coffee, “almost as nasty as Albert”.
“Yes, well, I was thinking of this man William has mentioned, the Permanent Representative. I’ve come across him. Be very prudent in dealings there. A lot of power, a long arm. I’m not concerned with an important foreign country, so-called friendly, with that great taste for meddling in the affairs of others, but with the man himself. I know something of him. A rigid character, one of those who has always to be in the right, superciliously dismissive of any opinion but his own. Doesn’t do to get on the wrong side of him.”
Bernadette has a legal liking for Latin citations.
‘ Dejiciat potentes de sede .’He throws down the mighty from their seat.”
William knows this one; it’s from the Psalms; it was a favourite with the Marquis. He knows the literary reference that goes with it, which – typically – the old man was fond of acting, with empressment and much relish.
‘Among the best pages Dumas ever wrote. Henry the Third’s brother has just died miserably – thoroughly deserved – and the King laments: Who then will succeed me? Upon the very moment the doors fly open. Dramatic announcement – His Highness, Monseigneur le Duc de Guise!’ The old boy loving it. Probably an ancestor of his. ‘The duke sees the deathbed and goes down on his knees, in the presence of God and the King. Magnificent. And Chicot quotes that splendid line – ‘He shall throw down the mighty from their seat.’ It amused William. Marky was fond of dukes – they were all his cousins!
“I’m accustomed to these people, Albert. I’m not afeared of your lousy fascist.”
“But you’ll be careful, dear boy.”
“Feel sure of it.”
What he found, or better said dragged out into daylight, while looking into Janine, was a pal of hers, young woman going by the name of Iñez. Real name Thomasina, some antenatal confusion, she was supposed to be a boy, but that’s no name to build a career upon. And a real peasant. Would talk but only for money. Yes and no and perhaps,and haven’t heard, can’t say. They’ve learned in childhood to act dim. And he has nothing with which to twist her arm.
“If you were to put me on the payroll then.” Convinced he’s from the Ministry, and can cough up some of the ‘sonnante et trébuchante’ (which is French for chinking twinkling mint sauce). She reckons that he’ll threaten but won’t do anything, will get fed-up and start offering cake, thinking that he’ll get on better being kind. So he will, but it better be real cake.
These ones are all the same, thought William. The day they were born they learned how to tap the electricity bypassing the meter. Aged four they were pinching cake from the baker. Aged six, shoplifting in the supermarket.
William found himself, since nothing’s-for-free-mister, with just one hard item, and that wrung out, since Janine had let something slip: occasionally – v-e-r-y occasionally when things are really tight, these girls make a little bit on the side, courtesy of Madame Bénédicte. He has heard the name before.
Oddly enough, from his ex-or nearly-ex brother-in-law, Geoffrey de Sainte-Anne. In an unbuttoned moment, in the company of the excellent spätlese Riesling. The Baron had also his little moment of weakness now and then, in which Madame Bénédicte specializes. She has a most appropriate address, just opposite the convent of the Bon Pasteur, where the holy nuns used to look after delinquent girls. ‘I say old boy, you’ll be discreet about that.’
As close of mouth of Iñez he finds the lady, but a lot more sophisticated since very well protected indeed; not just by a PermRep but the entire machine, Parliament, Commission, Council, diplomatic immunity all round. Interpol have now also their data-base in Strasbourg.
Madame offers coffee which smells so good he hates to refuse. Madame also hates to refuse, but really Monsieur, you can’t expect anything else.
“Seeing it’s
“Yes, well, I was thinking of this man William has mentioned, the Permanent Representative. I’ve come across him. Be very prudent in dealings there. A lot of power, a long arm. I’m not concerned with an important foreign country, so-called friendly, with that great taste for meddling in the affairs of others, but with the man himself. I know something of him. A rigid character, one of those who has always to be in the right, superciliously dismissive of any opinion but his own. Doesn’t do to get on the wrong side of him.”
Bernadette has a legal liking for Latin citations.
‘ Dejiciat potentes de sede .’He throws down the mighty from their seat.”
William knows this one; it’s from the Psalms; it was a favourite with the Marquis. He knows the literary reference that goes with it, which – typically – the old man was fond of acting, with empressment and much relish.
‘Among the best pages Dumas ever wrote. Henry the Third’s brother has just died miserably – thoroughly deserved – and the King laments: Who then will succeed me? Upon the very moment the doors fly open. Dramatic announcement – His Highness, Monseigneur le Duc de Guise!’ The old boy loving it. Probably an ancestor of his. ‘The duke sees the deathbed and goes down on his knees, in the presence of God and the King. Magnificent. And Chicot quotes that splendid line – ‘He shall throw down the mighty from their seat.’ It amused William. Marky was fond of dukes – they were all his cousins!
“I’m accustomed to these people, Albert. I’m not afeared of your lousy fascist.”
“But you’ll be careful, dear boy.”
“Feel sure of it.”
What he found, or better said dragged out into daylight, while looking into Janine, was a pal of hers, young woman going by the name of Iñez. Real name Thomasina, some antenatal confusion, she was supposed to be a boy, but that’s no name to build a career upon. And a real peasant. Would talk but only for money. Yes and no and perhaps,and haven’t heard, can’t say. They’ve learned in childhood to act dim. And he has nothing with which to twist her arm.
“If you were to put me on the payroll then.” Convinced he’s from the Ministry, and can cough up some of the ‘sonnante et trébuchante’ (which is French for chinking twinkling mint sauce). She reckons that he’ll threaten but won’t do anything, will get fed-up and start offering cake, thinking that he’ll get on better being kind. So he will, but it better be real cake.
These ones are all the same, thought William. The day they were born they learned how to tap the electricity bypassing the meter. Aged four they were pinching cake from the baker. Aged six, shoplifting in the supermarket.
William found himself, since nothing’s-for-free-mister, with just one hard item, and that wrung out, since Janine had let something slip: occasionally – v-e-r-y occasionally when things are really tight, these girls make a little bit on the side, courtesy of Madame Bénédicte. He has heard the name before.
Oddly enough, from his ex-or nearly-ex brother-in-law, Geoffrey de Sainte-Anne. In an unbuttoned moment, in the company of the excellent spätlese Riesling. The Baron had also his little moment of weakness now and then, in which Madame Bénédicte specializes. She has a most appropriate address, just opposite the convent of the Bon Pasteur, where the holy nuns used to look after delinquent girls. ‘I say old boy, you’ll be discreet about that.’
As close of mouth of Iñez he finds the lady, but a lot more sophisticated since very well protected indeed; not just by a PermRep but the entire machine, Parliament, Commission, Council, diplomatic immunity all round. Interpol have now also their data-base in Strasbourg.
Madame offers coffee which smells so good he hates to refuse. Madame also hates to refuse, but really Monsieur, you can’t expect anything else.
“Seeing it’s
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