Scene 15

«Your cook has solved the riddle», exulted Marie over the telephone, her voice sounding like a ray of sunshine.
«My cook – how come? Does she also work for the bureau?»
Maille lay in bed while he took Marie's call, feeling like a person who had a strong torchlight beaming into his face in the dead of night. It did not fail to escape his notice, however, that Marie sounded somewhat different: she had made no catty greeting, no barbed remarks, no insinuations – her voice held the timbre of that of an animator at a child's birthday party. What had happened?
«Pray, what riddle are you talking about?» asked Maille.
«Na, of Solomon's Seal!»
«And?»
«It's a tea, a famous Korean brand of tea. The plant comes from the family of Ruscaceae and an infusion of it is supposed to carry many properties that are good for health. We can infer that Tatjana sent her father Solomon's Seal because she was concerned about his health – just as I bring my mother Gelee Royal from the Greek islands.»
«Gelee Royal? Ruscaceae? But how is it that Odette discovered this? What on earth does she know about Solomon's Seal?»
«Now, I explained it to her. It was not such a big secret, was it? Be happy: we thought there must be some sort of secret alliance in the game – a order from the Seal of Solomon or some such crusading pig sty.»
«Does my cook go in and out of our office?»
«Not really. But you could say that we have struck up a friendship of sorts.»
«Friendship?»
«Don't worry, we don't speak about you. You are quite okay.»

Maille knew he had missed something of importance – equally he realised that he would never know what it was that he had missed. He was not traumatised by this knowledge, he was used to the fact that reality often created such holes in life – so much so that with every passing year his life looked more and more like an Emmentaler existence. What irked him though, was the fact that the two women did not deign to speak about him. But waht shocked him most was Marie's remark that he was «quite okay». That was the total degradation, the radical obliteration of all that he wanted to be for Marie and also perhaps for his cook, Odette – and occasionally of what he was, too, at least in his dreams.

He slipped into some clothes and traipsed through the morning Saigon like a person who had a cheap Hollywood film thumping on his chest. A poor twit whose boss had told him that he had engaged him for the last ten years out of sheer sympathy. Or, was it out of friendship for the father of the twit? Or was it because he was in a relationship with the wife of the twit? The conversation could well end with the boss looking kindly into the twit's eyes: «Twit! Haven't you ever asked yourself why your daughter is so pretty, why she is so dark-haired?» In cinema, there is connection with another twit, and consolation, renaissance of self-respect, sublime revenge and ultimately large-hearted forbearance. In real life, there's just a pair of ankles that's continually on fire.

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