The Clowns of God by Morris West Page B

terrorists are very bold now and the crust of law and order has worn thin. Kidnapping is the biggest private industry. We don’t go out at night as we used, because there’s always danger from purse-snatchers and motorcycle gangs. But up here,” her gesture embraced the whole ancient skyline, “it’s still the same’ as it’s been for centuries: the washing on the lines, the birds, the music that comes and goes, and the calls of the women to their neighbours. Without it I don’t think we could bear to stay any longer.”
    She was a small dark woman, bubbly with talk, elegant as a mannequin, twenty years younger than the white-haired husband who followed her every movement with adoration.
    She was affectionate too, cuddlesome as a kitten. Mendelius caught the flash of jealousy in Lotte’s eyes, when Hilde took his hand and led him to the corner of the terrace to point out the distant dome of Saint Peter’s and the Castle of Sant’Angelo. She told him in a loud stage whisper:
    “Herman’s so happy you’ve agreed to lecture for him. He’s getting near to retirement and he hates the idea. His whole life has been wrapped up in the Academy both our lives really, because we’ve never had any children. Lotte looks very well.
    I hope she likes shopping. I thought I’d take her to the Condotti tomorrow while you and Herman are at the Academy. The seminar people haven’t arrived yet but he’s dying to show you the place.”
    “And we’ve got fine things to show this year!” Herman Frank, with Lotte on his arm, walked into their talk.
    “We’re giving the first comprehensive exhibition of Van Wittel ever held in this country, and Piero Falcone has lent us his collection of antique Florentine jewellery. That’s an expensive venture because we need armed guards all the time. Now let me tell you who’s coming to dinner tonight. There’s Bill Utley and his wife, Sonia. He’s the British Envoy to the Holy See. Bill’s a dry old stick but he really knows what’s going on.
    Also he speaks good German, which helps things along. Sonia’s a cheerful gossip with no inhibitions. You’ll enjoy her, Lotte. Then there’s Georg Rainer, who’s the Rome correspondent for Die Welt. He’s a relaxed fellow who talks well. It was Hilde’s idea to invite him because he’s got a new girlfriend whom nobody’s seen yet. A Mexican, I believe, and reputed to be rich! We’ll sit down about nine-thirty. By the way, Carl, there’s a pile of mail for you. I asked the maid to leave it in your room.”
    It was the warmest of welcomes and a reminder of happier times before the oil war began, and the Italian miracle turned sour, and all the bright hopes of European unity were tarnished beyond repair. By the time the dinner guests arrived Lotte was completely relaxed and chatting happily with Hilde about a trip to Florence and another to Ischia, while Carl Mendelius outlined, to an enthusiastic Herman, the schema of his discourses to the Evangelicals.
    Dinner was a comfortable meal. Utley’s wife was a scandalously entertaining talker. Georg Rainer’s girl, Pia Menendez, was an instant success a stunning beauty who knew how to defer graciously to the matrons. Georg Rainer wanted news;
    Utley liked to reminisce; so it was easy for Mendelius to steer the talk to recent events in the Vatican. Utley, the Englishman, who in his mother tongue had elevated obscurity to a fine art, was very precise in German.
    “… Even to the outsider it was plain that Gregory XVII had everyone in a panic. The organisation is too big and therefore too fragile to support an innovator or even a too flexible man at the top. It’s like the Russians with their satellites and their comradely governments in Africa and South America. They have to preserve, at any cost, the illusion of unanimity and stability. So Gregory had to go.”
    “I’d be interested,” said Carl Mendelius, “to know exactly how they got him to abdicate.”
    “Nobody’s prepared to