The invention of Morel - Adolfo Bioy Casares [28]
Morel was speaking: "You must search the whole building. I saw him enter this room some time ago."
Was he referring to me? At last I was going to find out the real reason why these people had come to the island.
"We've searched the whole house," said a naive voice.
"That doesn't matter. You must find him!" replied Morel.
I felt as if I were surrounded now. I wanted to get away, but I did not dare to move.
I remembered that halls of mirrors were famous as places of torture. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
Then Dora and the youth returned with an elderly lady who appeared to be drunk (I had seen her in the pool). Two men, apparently servants, offered to help; they came up to Morel, and one said, "Haven't been able to find him."
"Haynes is sleeping in Faustine's room," said Dora to Morel. "It will be hard to get him down to the meeting."
Was Haynes the one they had been speaking about before? At first I did not see any connection between Dora's remark and Morel's conversation with the men. The latter spoke about looking for someone, and I had felt panic-stricken, finding allusions or threats in everything. Now it occurs to me that these people were never concerned with me at all. Now I know they cannot look for me.
Can I be sure? A sensible man—would he believe what I heard last night, what I believe I know? Would he tell me to forget the nightmare of thinking that all this is a trap set to capture me?
And, if it is a trap, why is it such a complex one? Why do they not simply arrest me? I find this laborious method quite idiotic.
The habits of our lives make us presume that things will happen in a certain foreseeable way, that there will be a vague coherence in the world. Now reality appears to be changed, unreal. When a man awakens, or dies, he is slow to free himself from the terrors of the dream, from the worries and manias of life. Now it will be hard for me to break the habit of being afraid of these people.
Morel took a sheaf of yellow papers filled with typed copy from a wooden bowl on the table. The bowl also contained a number of letters attached to clippings of advertisements from Yachting and Motor Boating. The letters asked about prices of used boats, terms of sale, addresses where they could be seen. I saw a few of them.
"Let Haynes sleep," said Morel. "He weighs so much—if they try to bring him down, we shall never get started!"
Morel motioned for silence, and then began tentatively, "I have something important to tell you."
He smiled nervously.
"It is nothing to worry about. In the interest of accuracy I have decided to read my speech. Please listen carefully."
(He began to read the yellow pages that I am putting into this envelope. When I ran away from the museum this morning, they were on the table,-1 took them with me.)[4]
"You must forgive me for this rather tedious, unpleasant incident. We shall try to forget it! Thoughts of the fine week we have spent here together will make all this seem less important.
"At first, I decided not to tell you anything. That would have spared you a very natural anxiety. We would have enjoyed ourselves up to the very last instant, and there would have been no objections. But, as all of you are friends, you have a right to know."
He paused for a moment, rolling his eyes, smiling, trembling; then he continued impulsively: "My abuse consists of having photographed you without your permission. Of course, it is not like an ordinary photograph; this is my latest invention. We shall live in this photograph forever. Imagine a stage on which our life during these seven days is acted out, complete in every detail. We are the actors. All our actions have been recorded."
"How shameful!" blurted a man with a black moustache and protruding