danbrown.thedavincicode-第4章

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mblems　and　ideologies；　Langdon　viewed　the　world　as　a　web　of　profoundly　intertwined　histories　and　events。　The　connections　may　be　invisible；　he　often　preached　to　his　symbology　classes　at　Harvard；　but　they　are　always　there；　buried　just　beneath　the　surface。
　〃I　assume；〃　Langdon　said；　〃that　the　American　University　of　Paris　told　you　where　I　was　staying？〃
　The　driver　shook　his　head。　〃Interpol。〃
　Interpol；　Langdon　thought。　Of　course。　He　had　forgotten　that　the　seemingly　innocuous　request　of　all　European　hotels　to　see　a　passport　at　check…in　was　more　than　a　quaint　formality…it　was　the　law。　On　any　given　night；　all　across　Europe；　Interpol　officials　could　pinpoint　exactly　who　was　sleeping　where。　Finding　Langdon　at　the　Ritz　had　probably　taken　all　of　five　seconds。
　As　the　Citro？n　accelerated　southward　across　the　city；　the　illuminated　profile　of　the　Eiffel　Tower　appeared；　shooting　skyward　in　the　distance　to　the　right。　Seeing　it；　Langdon　thought　of　Vittoria；　recalling　their　playful　promise　a　year　ago　that　every　six　months　they　would　meet　again　at　a　different　romantic　spot　on　the　globe。　The　Eiffel　Tower；　Langdon　suspected；　would　have　made　their　list。　Sadly；　he　last　kissed　Vittoria　in　a　noisy　airport　in　Rome　more　than　a　year　ago。
　〃Did　you　mount　her？〃　the　agent　asked；　looking　over。
　Langdon　glanced　up；　certain　he　had　misunderstood。　〃I　beg　your　pardon？〃
　〃She　is　lovely；　no？〃　The　agent　motioned　through　the　windshield　toward　the　Eiffel　Tower。　〃Have　you　mounted　her？〃
　Langdon　rolled　his　eyes。　〃No；　I　haven't　climbed　the　tower。〃
　〃She　is　the　symbol　of　France。　I　think　she　is　perfect。〃
　Langdon　nodded　absently。　Symbologists　often　remarked　that　France…a　country　renowned　for　machismo；　womanizing；　and　diminutive　insecure　leaders　like　Napoleon　and　Pepin　the　Short…could　not　have　chosen　a　more　apt　national　emblem　than　a　thousand…foot　phallus。
　When　they　reached　the　intersection　at　Rue　de　Rivoli；　the　traffic　light　was　red；　but　the　Citro？n　didn't　slow。　The　agent　gunned　the　sedan　across　the　junction　and　sped　onto　a　wooded　section　of　Rue　Castiglione；　which　served　as　the　northern　entrance　to　the　famed　Tuileries　Gardens…Paris's　own　version　of　Central　Park。　Most　tourists　mistranslated　Jardins　des　Tuileries　as　relating　to　the　thousands　of　tulips　that　bloomed　here；　but　Tuileries　was　actually　a　literal　reference　to　something　far　less　romantic。　This　park　had　once　been　an　enormous；　polluted　excavation　pit　from　which　Parisian　contractors　mined　clay　to　manufacture　the　city's　famous　red　roofing　tiles…or　tuiles。
　As　they　entered　the　deserted　park；　the　agent　reached　under　the　dash　and　turned　off　the　blaring　siren。　Langdon　exhaled；　savoring　the　sudden　quiet。　Outside　the　car；　the　pale　wash　of　halogen　headlights　skimmed　over　the　crushed　gravel　parkway；　the　rugged　whir　of　the　tires　intoning　a　hypnotic　rhythm。　Langdon　had　always　considered　the　Tuileries　to　be　sacred　ground。　These　were　the　gardens　in　which　Claude　Monet　had　experimented　with　form　and　color；　and　literally　inspired　the　birth　of　the　Impressionist　movement。　Tonight；　however；　this　place　held　a　strange　aura　of　foreboding。
　The　Citro？n　swerved　left　now；　angling　west　down　the　park's　central　boulevard。　Curling　around　a　circular　pond；　the　driver　cut　across　a　desolate　avenue　out　into　a　wide　quadrangle　beyond。　Langdon　could　now　see　the　end　of　the　Tuileries　Gardens；　marked　by　a　giant　stone　archway。
　Arc　du　Carrousel。
　Despite　the　orgiastic　rituals　once　held　at　the　Arc　du　Carrousel；　art　aficionados　revered　this　place　for　another　reason　entirely。　From　the　esplanade　at　the　end　of　the　Tuileries；　four　of　the　finest　art　museums　in　the　world　could　be　seen。。。　one　at　each　point　of　the　pass。
　Out　the　right…hand　window；　south　across　the　Seine　and　Quai　Voltaire；　Langdon　could　see　the　dramatically　lit　facade　of　the　old　train　station…now　the　esteemed　Musée　d'Orsay。　Glancing　left；　he　could　make　out　the　top　of　the　ultramodern　Pompidou　Center；　which　housed　the　Museum　of　Modern　Art。　Behind　him　to　the　west；　Langdon　knew　the　ancient　obelisk　of　Ramses　rose　above　the　trees；　marking　the　Musée　du　Jeu　de　Paume。
　But　it　was　straight　ahead；　to　the　east；　through　the　archway；　that　Langdon　could　now　see　the　monolithic　Renaissance　palace　that　had　bee　the　most　famous　art　museum　in　the　world。
　Musée　du　Louvre。
　Langdon　felt　a　familiar　tinge　of　wonder　as　his　eyes　made　a　futile　attempt　to　absorb　the　entire　mass　of　the　edifice。　Across　a　staggeringly　expansive　plaza；　the　imposing　facade　of　the　Louvre　rose　like　a　citadel　against　the　Paris　sky。　Shaped　like　an　enormous　horseshoe；　the　Louvre　was　the　longest　building　in　Europe；　stretching　farther　than　three　Eiffel　Towers　laid　end　to　end。　Not　even　the　million　square　feet　of　open　plaza　between　the　museum　wings　could　challenge　the　majesty　of　the　facade's　breadth。　Langdon　had　once　walked　the　Louvre's　entire　perimeter；　an　astonishing　three…mile　journey。
　Despite　the　estimated　five　days　it　would　take　a　visitor　to　properly　appreciate　the　65；300　pieces　of　art　in　this　building；　most　tourists　chose　an　abbreviated　experience　Langdon　referred　to　as　〃Louvre　Lite〃…a　full　sprint　through　the　museum　to　see　the　three　most　famous　objects：　the　Mona　Lisa；　Venus　de　Milo；　and　Winged　Victory。　Art　Buchwald　had　once　boasted　he'd　seen　all　three　masterpieces　in　five　minutes　and　fifty…six　seconds。
　The　driver　pulled　out　a　handheld　walkie…talkie　and　spoke　in　rapid…fire　French。　〃Monsieur　Langdon　est　arrivé。　Deux　minutes。〃
　An　indecipherable　confirmation　came　crackling　back。
　The　agent　stowed　the　device；　turning　now　to　Langdon。　〃You　will　meet　the　capitaine　at　the　main　entrance。〃
　The　driver　ignored　the　signs　prohibiting　auto　traffic　on　the　plaza；　revved　the　engine；　and　gunned　the　Citro？n　up　over　the　curb。　The　Louvre's　main　entrance　was　visible　now；　rising　boldly　in　the　distance；　encircled　by　seven　triangular　pools　from　which　spouted　illuminated　fountains。
　La　Pyramide。
　The　new　entrance　to　the　Paris　Louvre　had　bee　almost　as　famous　as　the　museum　itself。　The　controversial；　neomodern　glass　pyramid　designed　by　Chinese…born　American　architect　I。　M。　Pei　still　evoked　scorn　from　traditionalists　who　felt　it　destroyed　the　dignity　of　the　Renaissance　courtyard。　Goethe　had　described　architecture　as　frozen　music；　and　Pei's　critics　described　this　pyramid　as　fingernails　on　a　chalkboard。　Progressive　admirers；　though；　hailed　Pei's　seventy…one…foot…tall　transparent　pyramid　as　a　dazzling　synergy　of　ancient　structure　and　modern　method…a　symbolic　link　between　the　old　and　new…helping　usher　the　Louvre　into　the　next　millennium。
　〃Do　you　like　our　pyramid？〃　the　agent　asked。
　Langdon　frowned。　The　French；　it　seemed；　loved　to　ask　Americans　this。　It　was　a　loaded　question；　of　course。　Admitting　you　liked　the　pyramid　made　you　a　tasteless　American；　and　expressing　dislike　was　an　insult　to　the　French。
　〃Mitterrand　was　a　bold　man；〃　Langdon　replied；　splitting　the　difference。　The　late　French　president　who　had　missioned　the　pyramid　was　said　to　have　suffered　from　a　〃Pharaoh　plex。〃　Singlehandedly　responsible　for　filling　Paris　with　Egyptian　obelisks；　art；　and　artifacts。
　Fran？ois　Mitterrand　had　an　affinity　for　Egyptian　culture　that　was　so　all…consuming　that　the　French　still　referred　to　him　as　the　Sphinx。
　〃What　is　the　captain's　name？〃　Langdon　asked；　changing　topics。
　〃Bezu　Fache；〃　the　driver　said；　approaching　the　pyramid's　main　entrance。　〃We　call　him　le　Taureau。〃
　Langdon　glanced　over　at　him；　wondering　if　every　Frenchman　had　a　mysterious　animal　epithet。　〃You　call　your　captain　the　Bull？〃
　The　man　arched　his　eyebrows。　〃Your　French　is　better　than　you　admit；　Monsieur　Langdon。〃
　My　French　stinks；　Langdon　thought；　but　my　zodiac　iconography　is　pretty　good。　Taurus　was　always　the　bull。　Astrology　was　a　symbolic　constant　all　over　the　world。
　The　agent　pulled　the　car　to　a　stop　and　pointed　between　two　fountains　to　a　large　door　in　the　side　of　the　pyramid。　〃There　is　the　entrance。　Good　luck；　monsieur。〃
　〃You're　not　ing？〃
　〃My　orders　are　to　leave　you　here。　I　have　other　business　to　attend　to。〃
　Langdon　heaved　a　sigh　and　climbed　out。　It's　your　circus。
　The　agent　revved　his　engine　and　sped　off。
　As　Langdon　stood　alone　and　watched　the　departing　taillights；　he　realized　he　could　easily　reconsider；　exit　the　courtyard；　grab　a　taxi；　and　head　ho