Читать книгу The Contract - Anto Krajina - Страница 12

Professor Frederic offered Vivien a seat at the elegant round table in the middle of his office as soon as they had entered. He invited her to help herself to some fruit and chocolate neatly arranged on shiny silver plates. She thanked him for his generosity and accepted his offer.

“I love this room,” she said, looking around. “Everything is so special, so unique,” she continued, glancing at him seductively out of the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you very much for the complement, I love beautiful things,” replied Professor Frederic, his voice trembling.

“I believe you, and it is obvious that you have very refined taste.”

“If you look around carefully, you’ll notice that each piece of furniture in my office is genuine and true to style as well as to period. I hate imitations, can’t stand them,” he said.

“I love that attitude, however I must admit that I do not understand why antique objects – pieces of furniture or pictures or vases or anything else – are automatically considered as valuable and beautiful, more valuable and more beautiful than objects made say a week ago,” Vivien said.

“I am not sure I can answer that question. The only thing I can say is that I just feel with my emotional intelligence that it is so,” replied Professor Frederic.

“Could you please explain to me the meaning of the expression ‘emotional intelligence’? I have heard it so many times, but I do not understand its meaning,” Vivien asked.

Professor Frederic bit his upper lip with his lower teeth and began to rub his right thumb against his index and his middle finger, looking for the right words to express something which didn’t seem to be present in his mind at all. He was obviously embarrassed.

Vivien was astonished, for the gentleman in front of her, a professor of psychology, the country’s leading authority in his field, obviously couldn’t explain the meaning of a term that psychologists often use.

“When we speak of intelligence we make a clear difference between the social and the emotional intelligence. In either case, however, we just mean competence. Do you understand what I mean?” he answered.

“I hope I do,” said Vivien, trying to avoid causing him further embarrassment.

“Fine, I’m glad. As soon as you have finished High School you can study psychology in our Institute,” he said.

“I’d love to. Thank you so much, you are so generous. It is so wonderful to have somebody beside you who can answer all your questions. I always have so many questions and I’d love to live with somebody who can answer all my questions,” said Vivien, pretending naivety.

“That’s a privilege, of course. Lucky are those who can enjoy that privilege,” said Professor Frederic in a somewhat confused way.

“Your wife must be a lucky person,” she said.

“I’m not married,” he replied.

“You are not married? Why is that?” she asked.

“I haven’t been lucky enough to meet the right person . . .” he answered.

“Life is very strange. People sometimes look for the right person for years, even decades and can’t find them. Sometimes they meet the ideal person all of a sudden,” Vivien said.

“You are perfectly right. I think that people who belong together must find each other in the end,” said Professor Frederic. His voice was trembling.

“O, you believe in some sort of destiny, don’t you?” Vivien asked.

“No, I actually don’t. I don’t think there is anything like destiny,” he answered.

“But you have just said that people who belong together must find each other,” she said.

“Yes, I did, but that doesn’t contradict my opinion concerning destiny,” he replied.

“I am not so sure, for if two people belong together – as you said before – they are a sort of unity even before they find each other and therefore bound to find each other, aren’t they?” Vivien said.

“You are probably right,” said Professor Frederic, giving in.

“Have you ever been really in love?” she asked.

“Not really until a few days ago, but now . . .”

“So a few days ago something very important in your life must have happened. Am I right in my assumption?” she asked.

“You are perfectly right,” he answered. His enormous pear-shaped nose instantly became redder.

“Who did you write those beautiful poems for? I’m asking this because they address a woman whom you found extremely beautiful, and lovelier and more temperate than a beautiful summer day. Weren’t you in love with the woman you wrote that poem for?” she asked.

“I can’t remember who I wrote it for. Nobody except you has ever read it. You can decide who it might be for,” answered Professor Frederic, rubbing the palms of his hands against each other and looking at the table.

“I love that poem. When I read it I had the impression that I have always known it, that it, in a certain way, addressed me,” she said.

“I’m very happy and very pleased to hear that from you. You encourage me to continue writing; you are my muse, if I may say that,” he said.

“I feel much honoured, but do I deserve that honour? I’m saying this because I haven’t done anything for you. You have done so much for me. You have spoilt me completely. Only now I know how wonderful it is to be spoilt,” she said.

“You have already done so much for me and you can do even much more,” he replied.

“Is that possible?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. As soon as you begin studying here at my Institute we’ll arrange that you do that for me. Till then we both must be patient. Do you accept my proposal?” he asked.

“I’m delighted. I can’t wait to enjoy the privilege to do that for you,” she answered.

“Thus we are both on the right track,” he said.

“Don’t forget, this is a binding contract!” Vivien said and smiled.

“Be sure I’ll keep my word,” he said.

“And I’ll keep an eye on you to remind you steadily of your promise,” she said in her impish way, smiling and waving her index finger.

“Oh, go ahead, please. I’ll be happy to feel both your eyes on me. Now we have to go, because lunch is in just a few minutes. I’ll have to stay here for a while, because I have to see my assistant. He wanted to give me something when we came into the office. I told him to bring it tomorrow. I’ll go to his office and ask him to give it to me now. I wonder what it is,” said Professor Frederic.

“Now you can go straight to your room, because Ms Simple has probably brought your lunch already,” he added.

“I’m looking forward to my lunch, I’m really hungry,” Vivien said, smiling, and left.

Professor Frederic left his office. He wanted to enter his assistant’s office without knocking; however, the door was locked. Never before had his assistant’s door been locked during working hours. He felt somewhat annoyed. He knocked louder on the door and called his assistant’s name. There was no answer. Then he went to his desk in his office, took the skeleton key out of a tiny drawer and opened the door of Professor Bourgh’s office. There was nobody there.

“His bag is not here, he must have gone. Why did he lock the door? He has never done that before. He probably had something very urgent to do in the town. I’ll lock the door again,” he muttered.

“I hope nothing serious has happened,” he thought.

“Oh that is impossible. If that were the case, I would have been informed immediately,” he said, trying to ease his mind. There was more anger than remorse in his voice. His expression, however, showed that he was anxious.