Читать книгу Silk - Alessandro Baricco - Страница 14
Оглавление‘ALMOST the entire world,’ said Baldabiou softly. ‘Almost’, pouring a little water into his Pernod.
An August night, past twelve. Normally at that hour, Verdun had already been closed for a while. The chairs were turned upside down, neatly, on the tables. He had cleaned the bar, and all the rest. He had only to turn off the lights and lock up. But Verdun was waiting: Baldabiou was talking.
Sitting across from him, Hervé Joncour, with a spent cigarette between his lips, listened, unmoving. As he had eight years before, he was letting this man methodically rewrite his destiny. His voice came out thin and clear, punctuated by swallows of Pernod. He didn’t stop for many minutes. The last thing he said was
‘There is no choice. If we want to survive, we have to get there.’
Silence.
Verdun, leaning on the bar, looked over at the two of them.
Baldabiou was busy trying to find another drop of Pernod in the bottom of the glass.
Hervé Joncour placed the cigarette on the edge of the table before saying
‘And where, exactly, might it be, this Japan?’
Baldabiou raised his walking stick and pointed it beyond the roofs of Saint-August.
‘Straight that way.’
He said.
‘At the end of the world.’
