CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

On the Stairs, 8

ON THE SIXTH FLOOR, in front of Dr Dinteville’s door. A patient is waiting for the door to open; he’s a man of about fifty, with a military bearing of the up-country bruiser variety, wearing cropped hair, a grey suit, a printed silk tie pinned by a tiny diamond, and a heavy gold stopwatch. Under his left arm he carries a morning daily on which can be seen advertisements for stockings, for the forthcoming premiere of a Gate Flanders film, Love, Maracas and Salami, with Faye Dolores and Sunny Philips, and a banner headline – The Princess of Faucigny-Lucinge is back! – above a photograph of the princess, sitting in an art-nouveau armchair with a furious look on her face while five customs officials extract with the utmost care, out of the recesses of a crate, stamped all over with international markings, a solid silver samovar and a large mirror.

Beside the document stands an umbrella-holder: a tall plaster cylinder made to look like a classical pillar. To the right, a bundle of newspapers tied with string and intended for the students who periodically come to the building to make a collection of wastepaper. Even after the concierge has extracted all the illustrated blotters, which she gives away, Dr Dinteville remains one of the best suppliers. The paper on the top of the pile is not a medical publication, but a journal of linguistics with the following table of contents to be seen: