Foucault's pendulum - Umberto Eco [275]
“Calm yourself, my dear Pierre. I have had brought here, this night, a woman I consider the most exquisite incarnation of the Sophia, the mystic bond between the world of error and the Superior Ogdoad. Do not ask me how or why, but in her presence the man will speak. Tell them who you are, Sophia.”
And Lorenza, like a somnambulist, as if it were an effort to utter the words, said: “I am...the saint and the prostitute.”
“Ah, that is to laugh,” Pierre said. “We have here the crème de l’initiation and we call in a pute. No; the man must be brought immediately before the Pendule!”
“Let’s not be childish,” Aglie said. “Give me an hour. What makes you think he would speak here, before the Pendulum?”
“He will speak as he is undone. Le sacrifice humain!” Pierre shouted to the nave. And the nave, in a loud voice, repeated: “Le sacrifice humain!”
Salon stepped forward. “Count, our brother is not childish. He is right. We are not the police....”
“You of all people say this,” Aglie quipped.
“We are not the police,” Salon said, “and it is not fitting for us to proceed with ordinary methods of inquiry. On the other hand, I do not believe that sacrifices to the forces of the underground will be efficacious either. If they had wanted to give us a sign, they would have done so long ago. Another one knows, besides the prisoner, but he has disappeared. This evening, we have the possibility of confronting the prisoner with those who knew...” He smiled, staring at Aglie, his eyes narrowing beneath their bushy brows. “And to make them also confront us...”
“What do you mean, Salon?” Aglie asked, in a voice that showed uncertainty.
“If Monsieur le Comte permits, I will explain,” a woman said. It was Madame Olcott: I recognized her from the poster. Livid, in an olive garment, her hair, black with oil, tied at the nape. The hoarse voice of a man. In the Librairie Sloane I had recognized that face, and now I remembered: she was the Dru-idess who had run toward us in the clearing that night in Piedmont. “Alex, Denys, bring the prisoner here.”
She spoke in an imperious tone. The murmuring in the nave expressed approval. The two giants obeyed, trusting Lorenza to two Freaks Mignons. Aglie’s hands gripped the arms of his throne; he had been outvoted.
Madame Olcott signaled to her little monsters, and between the statue of Pascal and the Obeissante three armchairs were placed. On them three individuals were seated. The three were dark-skinned, small of stature, nervous, with large white eyes. “The Fox triplets. You know them well, Count. Theo, Leo, Geo, ready yourselves.”
At that moment the giants of Avalon reappeared, holding Ja-copo Belbo by the arms, though he barely came up to their shoulders. My poor friend was ashen, with several days’ growth of beard; his hands were bound behind his back and his shirt was open. Entering the smoky arena, he blinked. He didn’t seem surprised by the collection of hierophants he saw before him; after the past few days, he was probably prepared for anything.
He was surprised, though, to see the Pendulum in its new position. The giants dragged him to face Agile’s seat. The only | sound was the swish of the Pendulum as it grazed his back.
Briefly, Belbo turned, and he saw Lorenza. Overwhelmed, he i started to call her, and tried to free himself. But Lorenza, though she stared at him dully, seemed not to recognize him.
From the far end of the nave, near the ticket desk and the bookstall, a roll of drums was heard, and the shrill notes of some flutes. Suddenly, the doors of four automobiles opened, and four creatures emerged. I had seen them before, too, on the poster for Le Petit Cirque.
Wearing fezlike felt hats and ample black cloaks buttoned to the neck, Les Derviches Hurleurs stepped from the automobiles like the dead rising from the grave, and they squatted at the edge of the magic circle. In the background a flute now played sweet music, and the