cw.blackalibi-第40节

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e　groups；　as　if　for　mutual　protection。　So　much　the　better；　she　thought；　he　can　pick　me　out　more　easily　this　way　than　if　the　place　were　crowded。　One　or　two　couples　were　moving　about　on　the　black　glass　dance　floor　in　the　slow　languor　of　the　tango；　each　with　its　plementary　pair　reflected　upside　down；　so　that　there　seemed　to　be　twice　as　many　as　there　were。
　　〃Is　the　seсorita　expecting　anyone？〃
　　She　concealed　the　shiver　this　succeeded　in　eliciting。　The　seсorita　was；　but　not　anyone　to　look　forward　to。
　　〃No；　dinner　for　one。〃　Then；　as　he　started　to　precede　her　toward　the　entrance　steps　of　the　building；　〃I　want　a　table　outside　here。　All　the　way　over；　by　the　hedge。〃
　　He　gave　her　a　look。　〃Are　you　sure　you　want　to　sit　that　far　out？〃
　　〃I'm　sure；〃　she　cut　him　short。　〃I　don't　like　crowds。〃
　　There　was　no　one　out　here　at　all；　in　all　this　sea　of　tables；　as　she　took　her　seat。　The　hedge　that　ran　beside　her　was　low；　even　seated　she　was　visible　almost　from　the　waist　up；　for　the　tables　were　set　on　a　platform　in　order　to　assure　an　evenness　that　the　natural　ground　lacked。　The　trees；　and　the　impenetrable　darkness　below　them；　looked　unfortably　close；　close　enough　for　someone　to　reach　out　through　them　and　snatch　her　bodily　away；　in　an　unguarded　moment　when　everyone's　back　was　turned。　Suppose…suppose　something　happened　right　here；　where　he　and　Belmonte　weren't　expecting　it　to；　couldn't　help　her？
　　She　turned　her　eyes　away；　remembering　what　Manning　had　warned　her：　not　to　show　strain　or　awareness；　studied　the　bill　of　fare。　A　bill　of　fare　that　vibrated　slightly　in　her　hand；　so　that　the　printed　words　on　it　all　showed　double；　as　if　seen　through　the　beveled　edge　of　a　thick　slab　of　glass。
　　〃You　remend？〃　she　said　in　a　smothered　voice。
　　〃The　purйe　of　mango。〃
　　〃Very　well；　the　purйe　of　mango。〃　How　could　she　get　anything　down　her　throat；　the　way　it　felt　now？　To　swallow；　something　inside　the　throat　had　to　open；　didn't　it？
　　〃And　at　the　end；　an　ice　and　coffee。〃
　　She　had　been　in　many　restaurants。　She　had　never　yet　been　anything　but　slightly　relieved　to　have　the　ordering　done　with　and　the　headwaiter　take　himself　off；　viewing　it　as　a　minor　annoyance　at　best。　Now　she　found　herself　regretting　having　reached　the　end　of　it　so　soon；　reluctant　to　see　him　go　in　and　leave　her　there　alone。　She　even　deliberately　held　him　there　a　moment　or　two　longer　beside　her；　repeating　a　redundant　instruction　or　two。
　　Her　eyes　followed　him　all　the　way　in　when　he　finally　left。　She　felt　so　alone；　so　cut　off　out　here。　True；　there　was　a　chasseur　over　there　by　the　break　in　the　hedge；　to　open　car　doors　for　arrivals；　but　he　looked　awfully　far　away；　and　these　trees　immediately　about　her　were　awfully　close。　She　opened　the　little　bag　on　her　lap；　pretended　to　fumble　for　a　handkerchief；　and　touched　the　butt　of　the　gun　Manning　had　given　her。　She　felt　a　little　better　after　that。
　　Just　as　she　finished　her　soup；　a　vermilion　lantern　directly　over　her；　hers　in　view　of　the　table　she　occupied；　went　out　without　any　warning；　and　a　pall　of　gray　shadow　was　cast　over　her　in　its　place。　She　closed　her　eyes　dismayedly。　Was　that　some　kind　of　omen？
　　As　soon　as　it　had　been　noticed；　two　of　them　came　hurrying　out　with　a　short　stepladder；　one　of　them　climbed　up　on　it　behind　her　chair；　fitted　a　new　bulb　into　place；　and　in　a　moment　it　went　on　again　brighter　than　before；　so　that　was　all　right。
　　It　was　hard　to　eat。　And　when　not　eating；　it　was　even　harder　still。　She　kept　her　eyes　away　from　the　direction　of　the　trees　by　sheer　will　power。　Sometimes　she　was　sure　she　could　feel　other；　malign　eyes　boring　steadily　into　her　from　the　shadows　beyond　the　hedge。　Sometimes　she　was　sure　it　was　just　her　imagination。
　　Once　a　small　animal；　perhaps　a　squirrel　or　a　chipmunk；　scurried　along　the　ground　on　the　outside　of　the　hedge。　Luckily　her　napkin　happened　to　be　in　her　hand　at　the　moment。　She　got　it　up　to　and　partly　into　her　mouth　before　the　scream　had　a　chance　to　e。　She　dug　the　nails　of　her　other　hand　into　its　palm；　nearly　piercing　the　flesh；　until　she　had　conquered　the　spasm。　The　next　time　the　waiter　approached　after　that；　she　said　a　little　breathlessly：　〃Ask　them　to　play　a　little　louder。　I　can't　hear　them　very　well　out　here。〃
　　〃Certainly；　seсorita。　Any　favorite　selection？〃
　　She　felt　like　saying；　〃Nearer　My　God　to　Thee；〃　but　it　would　have　been　in　earnest；　not　in　jest；　the　way　she　felt；　so　she　didn't。
　　〃And　bring　me　some　champagne；〃　she　added。　〃It's　dull　here。〃
　　If　she　was　being　watched…and　she　was　almost　certain　by　now　that　she　was…that　would　create　a　desirable　impression。　Of　nonchalance　and　celebration。　What　she　really　wanted　it　for　was　to　keep　from　fainting　here　in　her　seat。
　　They　brought　it　and　the　cork　popped　and　it　foamed　out　in　cheery　beaded　strings。　She　raised　her　brimming　glass　high　up　over　hedge　level；　so　it　couldn't　fail　to　be　seen。　She　felt　like　turning　toward　the　trees　and　holding　it　out　in　an　ironical　toast…〃Here's　to　you　and　me〃…but　it　would　have　been　too　ghastly。
　　She　touched　it　to　her　lips；　set　it　down　again。　A　mouthful　or　two　was　enough；　to　warm　the　lining　of　her　throat。　She　didn't　want　to　dull　her　senses；　they　were　the　only　armor　she　had　tonight。　After　a　while　she　surreptitiously　emptied　it　Out　on　the　floor；　on　the　inner　side　of　the　table；　where　she　couldn't　be　seen　doing　it；　and　conspicuously　refilled　her　glass。
　　Her　request　for　champagne　and　louder　music　must　have　misled　the　management　into　thinking　it　had　been　remiss　in　attentiveness。　A　tall　young　fellow　with　a　telltale　white　carnation　in　his　jacket　came　down　the　steps　and　over　to　her　place　of　exile。　He　bowed　ingratiatingly。　〃May　I　have　this　tango？〃
　　〃Thank　you；　I'm　not　dancing。〃
　　He　wasn't　easily　discouraged。　〃Then　does　the　lovely　seсorita　mind　if　I　sit　down　and　keep　her　pany？〃　He　had　already　drawn　out　the　chair　opposite　hers。
　　Manning's　warning　came　back　to　her：　Don't　tangle　with　anyone；　you　may　frighten　him　off。　〃No；　don't！〃　she　cried；　so　alarmedly　that　he　drew　back　a　step。　〃Please！　Please　don't　stand　here；　please　leave　this　table…〃
　　He　was　persistent。　Business　must　have　been　rotten　these　nights；　with　everyone　staying　away。　〃Just　one　small　dance　the　seсorita　refuses？〃　he　coaxed。
　　She　gave　in　finally；　as　the　quickest　and　easiest　way　of　getting　rid　of　him。　After　all；　of　the　two　evils；　it　would　look　less　suspicious…to　out　there…to　be　seen　dancing　with　him　than　to　have　him　stand　parleying　beside　her　table　for　any　length　of　time。
　　She　got　up　and　he　led　her　back　inside　on　his　arm　like　some　kind　of　a　living　trophy。　There　were　three　others　of　his　kind　sitting　disconsolately　around　the　dance　floor；　one　to　a　table。　Probably　they　worked　on　a　percentage　basis。
　　She'd　never　tangoed　before。　She　didn't　have　to　now。　He　tangoed　for　both　of　them。　He　was　good　at　it；　as　one　should　be　at　one's　livelihood。　Even　the　scissors　step　she　found　herself　doing　without　realizing　it。　Over　his　shoulder　she　could　still　see　the　trees　out　there。　Whichever　way　she　turned；　they　were　waiting；　on　three　sides　of　her；　out　beyond　the　hedge；　as　if　to　say：　〃We'll　get　you。　You're　ing。　We'll　get　you。〃
　　Even　a　gigolo；　a　gigolo　to　cling　to；　was　better　than　being　alone　with　the　darkness　lying　in　wait　all　around。
　　After　they'd　gone　once　around　the　black　glass；　she　said：　〃What's　the　name　of　that；　they're　playing？〃
　　He　had　to　hum　the　words　over　to　himself　first　in　Spanish；　to　marshal　them　for　translation。
　　
　　Adios　muchachos；　paneros　de　mi　vida；
　　Se　acabaron　para　mi　todas　las　farras
　　
　　〃I　do　not　speak　the　English　very　well。　It　is　of　someone　whose　life　is　soon　to　finish。　It　say；　'Goodby；　boys；　my　life　panions；　For　me　is　ending…
　　Even　the　music。　〃Please　don't　go　ahead；〃　she　said　in　a　sick　voice。　〃Will　you　excuse　me　now？　I'd　like　to　go　back　to　my　table。〃
　　〃I　have　displeased　the　seсorita？〃
　　〃Not　at　all。　I　have　a　headache。　Would　you　mind　telling　me　how　much　I　owe　you？〃　They　were　back　at　the　table　by　now。
　　He　wasn't　in　the　least　dismayed。　〃The　seсorita　is　too　generous。　She　did　not　plete　her　dance…〃
　　〃Take　this　anyway；〃　she　said；　to　get　rid　of　him；　and　touched　his　hand　briefly。
　　Then　she　was　alone　again；　a　motionless；　doomed　figure　sitting　passively　under　a　blood…red　lantern。　She　sat　on　for　half　an　hour　after　she'd　finished　her　coffee。　That　sense　of　being　watched　kept　growing　stronger　all　the　time。　Her　very　skin　felt　it；　kept　trying　to　crawl　away　from　it。　She　had　to　keep　fighting；　not　to　turn　her　head　and　look。　Once　she　almost　had　an　impression　of　something　luminous；　phosphorescent；　glowing　out　at　her　through　the　bushes。　She　had　to　throw　down　a　spoon　and　then　stoop　for　it；　the　impulse　to　turn　and　see　was　so　strong。　When　she　had　straightened　up　in　her　chair　again；　she　could　resist；　better。　By　then　it　was　gone　anyway；　whatever　it　had　been；　the　corners　of　her　eyes　no　longer　felt　it。
　　It　seemed　so　silly；　somehow；　expecting　to　meet　violence；　perhaps　even　death　itself；　face　to　face　within　a　short　while；　expecting　to　have　to　claw　and　rake　at　it　with　your　bare　hands；　in　defense　of　your　life　perhaps；　and　yet　to　be　sitting　here　now　dipping　those　same　fingers　into　a　bowl　of　tepid　water　with　a　gardenia　floating　around　in　it。　If　she　lived；　she　knew；　she'd　never　be　able　to　lo