iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第25章

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　Gil　turns　back　toward　the　stage；　not　wanting　to　resurrect　the　topic。
　〃Saint　Peter；〃　Taft　continues；　〃by　Michelangelo；　around　1550。　Peter　was　martyred　under　Nero；　crucified　upside…down　at　his　own　request。　He　was　too　humble　to　be　crucified　the　same　way　as　Christ。〃
　Onstage；　Professor　Henderson　looks　unfortable；　picking　nervously　at　a　spot　on　her　sleeve。　Without　any　thread　of　argument　connecting　one　slide　to　the　next；　Taft's　presentation　is　beginning　to　seem　less　like　a　lecture　than　like　a　sadist's　peep　show。　The　usual　rumble　of　conversation　in　the　auditorium　on　Good　Fridays　has　dissolved　into　titillated　silence。
　〃Hey；〃　Gil　says；　tapping　Paul's　sleeve；　〃does　Taft　always　talk　about　this　stuff？〃
　Paul　nods。
　〃He's　a　little　off；　isn't　he？〃　Charlie　whispers。
　The　two　of　them；　having　stayed　out　of　Paul's　academic　life　for　so　long；　are　noticing　this　for　the　first　time。
　Paul　nods；　but　says　nothing。
　〃We　arrive；　then；〃　Taft　continues；　〃at　the　Renaissance。　The　home　of　a　man　who　embraced　the　language　of　violence　I　have　been　trying　to　convey。　What　I　wish　to　share　with　you　tonight　is　not　a　story　he　created　by　dying；　but　something　of　the　mysterious　story　he　created　while　still　alive。　The　man　was　an　aristocrat　from　Rome　named　Francesco　Colonna。　He　wrote　one　of　the　rarest　books　ever　printed：　the　Hypnerotomachia　Poliphili。〃
　Paul's　eyes　are　fixed　on　Taft；　pupils　wide　in　the　dark。
　〃From　Rome？〃　I　whisper。
　Paul　looks　at　me；　incredulous。　Before　he　can　answer；　though；　there　is　an　outburst　at　the　entrance　behind　us。　A　sharp；　violent　exchange　has　erupted　between　the　girl　at　the　door　and　a　large　man；　as　yet　obscured。　Their　voices　are　spilling　through　the　lecture　hall。
　To　my　surprise；　when　the　man　emerges　into　the　light；　I　recognize　him　at　once。
　
　Chapter　10
　
　Against　the　loud　protests　of　the　blonde　at　the　door；　Richard　Curry　enters　the　auditorium。　Dozens　of　heads　in　the　back　of　the　room　turn。　Curry　scans　the　audience；　then　turns　toward　the　stage。
　This　book；　Taft　continues　in　the　background；　oblivious　to　the　motion；　is　perhaps　the　greatest　remaining　mystery　of　Western　printing。
　From　all　sides；　awkward　glances　size　up　the　intruder。　Curry　looks　disheveled：　tie　loose；　jacket　in　hand；　a　dislocated　look　in　his　eyes。　Paul　begins　pushing　his　way　through　a　small　crowd　of　students。
　It　was　published　by　the　most　famous　press　in　all　of　Renaissance　Italy；　but　even　the　identity　of　its　author　remains　heavily　debated。
　〃What's　that　guy　doing？〃　Charlie　whispers。
　Gil　shakes　his　head。　〃Isn't　that　Richard　Curry？〃
　Now　Paul　is　in　the　back　row；　trying　to　get　Curry's　attention。
　It　is　considered　by　many　to　be　not　only　the　world's　most　misunderstood　book；　but　also…perhaps　only　after　the　Gutenberg　Bible…the　world's　most　valuable。
　Paul　stands　beside　the　man　now。　He　places　a　hand　on　Curry's　back；　almost　cautiously；　and　whispers　something；　but　the　old　man　shakes　his　head。
　〃I　am　here；〃　Curry　says；　loudly　enough　that　people　in　the　front　row　turn　to　get　a　glimpse；　〃to　say　something　of　my　own。〃
　By　now　Taft　has　stopped　talking。　Every　face　in　the　hall　is　fixed　on　the　stranger。　He　reaches　up　and　runs　his　hand　over　his　head。　Glaring　at　Taft；　he　speaks　again。
　〃The　language　of　violence？〃　he　says；　in　a　shrill；　unfamiliar　voice。　〃I　heard　this　lecture　thirty　years　ago；　Vincent；　when　you　thought　I　was　your　audience。〃　He　turns　to　the　crowd　and　spreads　his　arms；　addressing　them　all。　〃Did　he　tell　you　about　Saint　Lawrence？　Saint　Quentin？　Saint　Elmo　and　the　windlass？　Hasn't　anything　changed；　Vincent？〃
　There　are　murmurs　through　the　audience　as　people　register　Curry's　scorn。　From　one　corner　there　is　laughter。
　〃This；　my　friends；〃　Curry　continues；　pointing　at　the　stage；　〃is　a　hack。　A　fool　and　a　crook。〃　He　turns　to　focus　on　Taft。　〃Even　a　charlatan　can　fool　the　same　man　twice；　Vincent。　But　you？　You　prey　on　the　innocent。〃　He　places　his　fingers　to　his　lips　and　forms　a　kiss。　〃Bravissimo；　il　Fraudolento！〃　Lifting　his　arms；　he　encourages　the　audience　to　stand。　〃An　ovation；　my　friends。　Three　cheers　for　Saint　Vincent；　patron　saint　of　thieves。〃
　Taft　meets　the　intrusion　grimly。　〃Why　have　you　e　here；　Richard？〃
　〃They　know　each　other？〃　Charlie　whispers。
　Paul　is　trying　to　distract　Curry；　telling　him　to　stop；　but　Curry　continues。
　〃Why　have　you　e　here；　old　friend？　Is　this　theater　or　scholarship？　What　will　you　steal　this　time；　now　that　the　portmaster's　book　is　out　of　your　hands？〃
　At　this；　Taft　lurches　forward　and　booms；　〃Stop　this。　What　are　you　doing？〃
　But　Curry's　voice　escapes　like　a　conjured　spirit。　〃Where　have　you　put　the　piece　of　leather　from　the　diary；　Vincent？　Tell　me　and　I'll　leave。　You　can　carry　on　with　this　farce　of　yours。〃
　The　shadows　of　the　lecture　hall　creep　unpleasantly　across　Curry's　face。　Professor　Henderson　finally　shoots　to　her　feet　and　barks；　〃Someone　get　security！〃
　A　proctor　is　already　within　arm's　reach　of　Curry　when　Taft　waves　him　off。　His　self…possession　has　returned。
　〃No；〃　the　ogre　growls。　〃Let　him　go。　He　will　leave　of　his　own　accord。　Won't　you；　Richard？　Before　they　have　to　arrest　you？〃
　Curry　is　unmoved。　〃Look　at　us；　Vincent。　Twenty…five　years；　and　still　waging　the　same　war。　Tell　me　where　the　blueprint　is　and　you　won't　see　me　again。　That's　the　only　business　we　have　anymore。　The　rest　of　this〃…Curry　sweeps　his　arms　across　the　lecture　hall；　enpassing　everything…〃is　worthless。〃
　〃Get　out；　Richard；〃　Taft　says。
　〃You　and　I　tried　and　failed；〃　Curry　continues。　〃What　do　the　Italians　say？　There's　no　worse　thief　than　a　bad　book。　Let's　be　men　about　it　and　step　aside。　Where's　the　blueprint？〃
　There　are　whispers　all　around。　The　proctor　edges　between　Curry　and　Paul…but　to　my　surprise；　Curry　suddenly　lowers　his　head　and　begins　to　move　toward　the　far　aisle。　The　animation　in　his　face　disappears。
　〃You　old　fool；〃　he　says；　addressing　Taft　even　with　his　back　toward　the　stage。　〃Act　on。〃
　Students　against　the　wall　push　toward　the　front　of　the　auditorium；　keeping　their　distance。　Paul　stands　rooted　to　the　spot；　watching　his　friend　depart。
　〃Leave；　Richard；〃　Taft　instructs　from　the　podium。　〃Don't　return。〃
　We　all　follow　Curry's　slow　progress　toward　the　exit。　The　sophomore　at　the　door　watches　with　wide；　fearful　eyes。　In　a　moment　he　passes　across　the　threshold；　into　the　anteroom；　and　is　gone　from　sight。
　　
　Intense　murmuring　seizes　the　lecture　hall　as　soon　as　he　has　vanished。
　〃What　the　hell　was　that？〃　I　ask；　looking　back　at　the　exit。
　In　our　corner；　Gil　steps　over　toward　Paul。
　〃Are　you　okay？〃
　Paul　is　fumbling。　〃I　don't　understand　。　。　。〃
　Gil　places　an　arm　over　his　shoulder。　〃What　did　you　say　to　him？〃
　〃Nothing；〃　Paul　says。　〃I　have　to　go　after　him。〃　His　hands　are　shaking；　the　diary　still　tucked　between　them。　〃I　need　to　talk　to　him。〃
　Charlie　begins　to　protest；　but　Paul　is　too　upset　to　argue。　Before　any　of　us　can　insist　otherwise；　he　turns　and　heads　for　the　door。
　〃I'll　go　with　him；〃　I　say　to　Charlie。
　He　nods。　Taft's　voice　has　begun　to　roll　again　in　the　background；　and　when　I　look　up　at　the　stage　on　the　way　out；　the　giant　seems　to　be　staring　directly　at　me。　From　her　seat；　Katie　catches　my　attention。　She　mouths　a　question　about　Paul；　but　I　can't　understand　what　she's　saying。　Zipping　my　coat；　I　head　out　of　the　auditorium。
　In　the　courtyard；　canopies　lurch　like　skeletons　in　the　dark；　dancing　on　their　peg　legs。　The　wind　has　softened；　but　the　snow　continues；　thicker　than　before。　Around　the　corner　I　hear　Paul's　voice。
　〃Are　you　okay？〃
　I　turn　the　corner。　Not　ten　feet　away　is　Richard　Curry；　jacket　fluttering　in　the　wind。
　〃What's　wrong？〃　Paul　asks。
　〃Get　back　inside；〃　Curry　says。
　I　step　forward　to　hear　more；　but　snow　crunches　beneath　my　feet。　Curry　looks　over；　and　their　conversation　halts。　I　expect　some　spark　of　recognition　in　his　eyes；　but　find　none。　After　putting　his　hand　on　Paul's　shoulder；　Curry　slowly　backs　away。
　〃Richard！　Can't　we　talk　somewhere？〃　Paul　calls　out。
　But　the　old　man　distances　himself　quickly；　slipping　his　arms　into　his　suit　jacket。　He　doesn't　answer。
　It　takes　me　a　second　to　regain　my　wits　and　go　to　Paul's　side。　Together　we　watch　Curry　disappear　into　the　shadow　of　the　chapel。
　〃I　need　to　find　out　where　Bill　got　the　diary；〃　he　says。
　〃Right　now？〃
　Paul　n