Cyclops (The Margellos World Republic of Letters) by Ranko Marinkovic Read Free Book Online Page B

question had now been asked aloud of all those present; they were duty-bound to supply an answer. “Hah!” shrugged one of those who sees through everything, in a scandal-mongering tone. “Clear enough, isn’t it? Couldn’t you see how they did it? Making like that Mexican general was his pal, all the ‘bicycletimus,’ ‘bicycletimus’ hocus-pocus, a real circus, the sneak, with this guy on the weighing machine playing his second, making a fool of the poor blind man. … It’s all stage-managed, gentlemen, and now you may as well check your pockets and see if you’re missing anything. Well, I’m not; I’ve been to Mexico, I know all their tricks.”
    Like marionettes linked to a single string pulled by the experienced Mexican, all those present went through identical swift and anxious motions. There was a round of nervous patting of chests, sides, hips, all the places where pockets are to be found. One man even checked whether his wedding ring was still on his finger …
    There was a sudden “Oh no!”—a cry of utter dismay. All arms stopped dead and all eyes stared at the desperate man. He stood there like a man stunned, his arms in an X across his chest, patting his empty pockets; his eyes rolling from one bystander to another seeking help.
    Melkior looked at the victim of the theft: naturally, everyone could see his astonishment at recognizing the man as Four Eyes! His innocent idea to slip away unnoticed (he had no wish to be present when the pickpocket was nabbed) now turned out to have been naïve. It soon became clear to him that he had been, at the Mexican’s suggestion, tacitly proclaimed a thief himself! A thief or partner to a thief.
    Under the accusation of those terrible looks which demanded that he come clean, Melkior quite foolishly stared at Four Eyes in tense expectation of … what? Proof of his innocence?
    He himself did not know what he had expected of Four Eyes. He might possibly have been hoping against hope that Four Eyes hadn’t yet recognized him … the business the other day … the Distressić thing … Meanwhile Four Eyes was giving him a tearful, tragic look, one full of pleading and martyrlike forgiveness (which did not go unnoticed). Then, turning his uncertain and confused gaze somewhere aside, he said in a voice so tearful as to be almost inaudible (but it
was
audible) … for he was accusing no one, it was only that his paternal heart was breaking:
    “I was going to buy shoes for my boy … Daddy, he said, make them one size too big, I’m growing. The poor little fellow, that he should have to think about such things. And here’s autumn coming, the rains … The child will be off to school soon.”
    The scoundrel’s been reading Dostoyevsky, Melkior thought hastily.
    “Did you lose much?” somebody asked in a voice moved nearly to tears.
    “My wallet with twelve hundred inside. And all my papers.” Then he added, after a well-measured pause, crying out from the bottom of his heart, appealing to all of mankind, “If only he would let me have my ID back! These are serious times.”
    It was touching. A woman’s eyes filled with tears. The poor man, his child walking around barefoot and all he wants back is his ID card! Someone hit on the idea of notifying the police. … But Four Eyes didn’t care much for that idea: he opposed it vigorously, going on at very suspicious lengths: “No, no, please! Fair’s fair, we must show some understanding …”
    “Listen, you!” spoke up the cyclist all of a sudden, angrily grabbing Four Eyes by the elbow. “Who d’you think you’re kidding? You never had a wallet to begin with. Listen folks, he only showed up here a second ago, right after the bloke from Mexico asked what might be missing from our pockets.”
    “Good heavens, me?” Four Eyes rolled his eyes, the very picture of a martyred saint appealing to God to be his witness. “I who have been here all along? Here, this gentleman will tell you whether I’ve been