The Traveller's Companion by Akbar Del Piombo

Author:Akbar Del Piombo [Del Piombo, Akbar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disruptive Publishing
Published: 2013-01-18T06:00:00+00:00

Teatime with the Baroness and Duchess Toscanelli was an event I always looked forward to. The Duchess would bring us up to date on her affair with the university student and various little incidents, which always seemed to happen to her no matter where she was.

For myself, then, I had little to complain about. My life was a bed of roses as they say, and even Uncle J. was beginning to lose his antipathy, though he remained on hostile terms with nobles as a matter of principle. I rather admired him, for one would have to search far and wide to find another pimp with principles.

Nonetheless, he was concerned about finding new recruits and he came to me one day and declared that his stay was over.

The Baroness would not hear of me leaving. She feared that I, too, would get lost in the jungle, disappearing forever like Czerni. There was no arguing with her, and Uncle J. left early one morning, driving the Stutz himself, accompanied in my place by the author, Phlegmway.

A few hours later we could find no trace of Wilma. At first the Baroness was quite unconcerned. It was at the evening meal that Wilma's absence was indisputable. The truth dawned on us immediately.

“She has gone off with that uncle of yours!” said the Baroness.

I more or less expected her to take it rather badly, but the Baroness dropped the matter with a shrug.

“She has awfully hot blood,” she added, making sure my glass was filled, “and perhaps travel will tone her down.”

“Don't be surprised,” I answered, “if Uncle J. takes her into partnership in his business.”

“Well, for all I know, she could use a bit of a serious life. Younger generations always need a little reining in. I mean, of course, from the point of view of the older generation which hates to see youth doing what it does.”

“Hear, hear, well said, by Jove,” exclaimed a nearsighted Baron down the table—the Baron Goffe, I believe, for I remembered the extreme pallor of his wife who was sitting next to him. “Well said, indeed. My dear, we of the older generation must learn to be generous.”

He was rather a flat individual, I concluded, turning my gaze to observe the mulatto woman with the long dark hair that covered one side of her face. The Baroness noticed my wandering eyes and gave me a warning kick in the shins.

Well, well, I thought, I see I have now become private property. It certainly wasn't like her, though, and could have happened in a moment of weakness. And, in fact, I think she later regretted it. But that moment was fatal. I began to observe the ladies present with a keener eye, making mental notes on the more desirable ones and how I might go about possessing them.

The meal ended, and we all retired to the lounge. The atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable. Voices were hushed and the cheerful tinkle of spoons stirring in cups, and of ice dropping into tall glasses fit the mood of repose perfectly.

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