Chapter 47 a special dish

"This is the Spiro Restaurant." It was Lafleur who spoke. Costain faces a square brownstone facade.Like the other facades, it stretched out from both sides, and was hidden in the cold and damp darkness of the empty street.Below his feet was the subterranean floor, with iron bars around the windows and a faint light coming from behind the heavy curtains. "My God!" said he, "isn't this a spooky cave?" "Please understand," LaFleur said bluntly, "Spiro is not a fancy restaurant. Although this is a nervous era, impetuous and tense, it does its own way and refuses to join forces. This may be the last restaurant in the city. An important gas-lit establishment. But the same genuine facilities as usual. There is Sheffield club-style attentive service and, perhaps, cobwebs in lonely corners, which were also seen in the eyes of customers half a century ago. Commonplace!"

"Your introduction is quite off-putting," said Costain, "and besides, it's an unsanitary place." "Once in," went on LaFleur, "you've got all the foolishness of the year, day, hour. You've got a moment of spiritual renewal, not because of the grandeur of the scene, It's the solemnity of the atmosphere. And these precious qualities are discarded by our time." Costan smiled awkwardly. "From what you can tell, this isn't a restaurant, it's more like a cathedral." In the reflection of the dim street lamps overhead, LaFleur gazed at his companion's face. "I wonder," he said, "whether it was a mistake to invite you here today."

It broke Costan's heart.Although he had an enviable position with a good salary, in the eyes of this pompous little man he was a mere clerk at best.But he can't be ashamed of himself, and he has to show his dignity a little bit. "If you wish," he said coldly, "I can make other arrangements. It's just a trivial matter." Lafleur's eyes as big as bull's eyes looked up at Costain, and the puzzled expression on his flushed round face seemed unusually disturbed. "No, no," he said after a while, "that's not the case at all. It's very important that you and I have dinner at Spiro." He grabbed Costan's arm tightly and led him In front of the basement iron gate. "You know, you are the only person in my office who understands food. Although I know the many benefits of Spiro's restaurant, if I don't share it with a friend who is good at it, it's like hiding a pearl. I don't share it with others. Dao, what a pity."

After hearing this, Costan's anger subsided for the most part. "I know that there are quite a few people who are keen on enjoying good food." "I don't belong to this kind of person," LaFleur replied sharply, "I've kept the secret of Spiro's restaurant in my heart for many years, and I can't wait to tell it soon." He groped around the door for a while, only to hear the shrill and faint sound of an old hand-pulled doorbell coming from inside.The inner door creaked and swung open, and Costan saw a blurry face, the only thing visible being a row of gleaming teeth.

"Excuse me, sir, are you..." the person who couldn't see clearly asked. "Mr. Lafleur and a visitor." "Sir," said the unrecognizable man again.This time it was clearly an invitational tone.The face flicked aside, and Costan stumbled down the single step after his host.The front door and the second door creaked shut one after another, and he stood in the small hallway and blinked.He saw another person in front of him, and it took him a while to realize that the person staring at him turned out to be his own face in the huge mirror.The mirror was mounted on the wall, from the floor to the ceiling. "This atmosphere," he said in a low voice after taking a seat with the host, and giggled again.

He sat opposite LaFleur at a small table for two, and looked around the restaurant curiously.The dining room is not big at all, and there are only five or six rickety gas lamps for lighting, which emit a kind of illusory light, making the walls of the hall flickering, and perhaps disappearing at a distance . There are eight to ten small tables inside, which are arranged so that the diners will not disturb each other.The restaurant is full.The few waiters shuttle back and forth silently, entertaining the guests thoughtfully.All I could hear was the gentle clashing and scraping of knives and forks in the hall, as well as the whispering of people.Costain nodded approvingly.

LaFleur let out a sigh of satisfaction. "I know you'll be as interested in this place as I am," he said. "By the way, have you noticed that you don't see a single female customer here?" Costan raised his eyebrows in an inquiring look. "Spirituo doesn't encourage women to come in," LaFleur said, "and I can tell you that the method it uses absolutely works. Not long ago, I met a woman who had a taste of what it was like to eat here. She was in I waited at the table for more than an hour, but no one came to greet me." "Didn't she lose her temper?"

"It happened." LaFleur couldn't help smiling when he thought of this, "As a result, even other customers were annoyed by her, and the people who came with her were embarrassed, that's all." "How is Mr. Spiro?" "He didn't show up. Whether he ordered it to happen secretly, or whether he was not in the store at all when it happened, I don't know. Either way, he won a big victory anyway. Later, neither the woman nor the one who brought her Brainless mister, neither of us set foot in this restaurant again. In fact, this misfortune is entirely to blame for that misfortune, and he was responsible for it."

"This is also a good warning to those present." Costan laughed. At this moment a waiter came.His skin is dark brown, his nose is high, his lips are thin, well-proportioned, his eyes are big and watery, his eyelashes are long and thick, his silver hair is thick and soft, and he looks like he is wearing a top velvet. Like a hat.Costan thought to himself: All this shows that he is an East Indian.The waiter spread out the hard tablecloth, poured two full glasses of water from a large carved glass jar, and placed them in a proper position in front of the two of them. "Tell me," LaFleur asked eagerly, "will you be serving the special tonight?"

The waiter said with an apologetic smile, revealing a mouthful of beautiful teeth that only the chief housekeeper of a big family has. "Sorry, sir, there are no specials tonight." A look of great disappointment appeared on LaFleur's face. "After waiting for so long, almost a month, I originally wanted to bring this friend to experience..." "You understand our difficulties, sir." "Of course, of course," LaFleur gave Costan a sad look and shrugged, "Look, I really wanted to bring you to taste the most amazing delicacies that Spillo's has to offer, unfortunately, tonight Not available."

The waiter asked, "Is that going to be served now, sir?" LaFleur nodded. What Costan didn't expect was that the waiter turned around and left without waiting for the customer to order. "Did you order food beforehand?" he asked. "Well," said LaFleur, "I should have made it clear to you. At Spiro's you don't order. Everyone eats the same dish. The next night's It’s completely different. But again, there’s no room for personal choice.” "It's really different," Costain said, "and it sure tends to cause dissatisfaction. What if someone doesn't like what's being served?" "You don't need to worry about this happening." LaFleur said with a solemn expression, "I promise, no matter how picky your taste is, as long as you dine at Spiro, you will be sure to stutter well." Costain looked skeptical, and LaFleur smiled and said, "Just think about how subtle the rules here are, which is very beneficial." He said, "When you eat in a normal restaurant, you will find that the menu is sent There are countless dishes for you to choose from. You have to face trade-offs, comparisons, and finally make a decision, but you may regret it immediately. The result is tension, even if it is only a slight tension, it is definitely uncomfortable. . "Let's look at the entire cooking process. In ordinary restaurants, in order to prepare countless different dishes, the chefs are tired and sweaty in the kitchen. Here, there is only one chef, calmly, in the only In a single dish, I will show all my skills to the fullest, and I guarantee that it will be perfect!" "So you visited the kitchen?" "Unfortunately, no," LaFleur said sadly. "The picture I paint for you is a figment of my imagination. It's a cobble together of bits and pieces I've heard from people I've talked to over the years. But, I admit, Pretty much my only wish right now is to be able to see how the kitchen functions.” "Have you ever mentioned your wish to Sibiluo?" "It's been more than ten times, but he just ignored my request." "Does his behavior mean that there is something strange about him?" "No, no," LaFleur quickly denied my statement, "Masters never stick to small details. But," he sighed, "I will never give up, and I will stick to the end." While talking, the waiter brought two soup bowls and placed them in the proper positions with the precision of a mathematician. At the same time, he also brought a small tureen from which he scooped out some clear soup with a spoon.Costan spooned some soup and tasted it curiously.The soup tasted as light as water, almost tasteless.Costan frowned and reached for the salt and pepper shakers, but there was nothing on the table.He looked up, only to see Lafleur's eyes falling on himself.Although he was reluctant to let it go regardless of his own taste, he hesitated to take action, lest he pour cold water on Lafleur's enthusiasm.So he smiled, finger soup and said: "It tastes great!" LaFleur smiled. "You don't have a great taste at all." He said coldly, "You think it's bland, so you want to add seasoning. I know it." Hearing this, Costan raised his eyebrows, and Lafleur Go ahead and say, "Because many years ago, I had the same reaction as you, reaching for salt and pepper after the first sip. I was also surprised to find out that Spiro's doesn't serve condiments .” Costain was shocked. "There's no salt!" he exclaimed. "Not even salt. If you want to add salt, it means that your sense of taste is completely spoiled. I am convinced that you will find that as I did: when you are almost finished with the soup, the desire to add salt will no longer exist." LaFleur was right.Before the bottom of Costan's soup, he gradually tasted the endless taste of the soup, and his interest became higher and higher.LaFleur drank his own soup to the last drop, pushed the bowl aside, and leaned his elbows on the table. "Do you believe me now?" "Strange," said Costain, "I believe it." While the waiter was busy clearing the table, Lafleur lowered his voice and spoke meaningfully. "You'll find," he said, "that the absence of condiments is just one of the many distinctive features of Spiro's. Let me tell you so you know. For instance, No alcoholic beverages of any kind are served here. There are no other beverages here but pure cold water. Water is the first and only beverage that man needs." "Breast milk is naturally not included." Costan added calmly. "I can say the same thing: the customer who dines at Spiro's is generally well past that initial stage of life." Costan couldn't help laughing. "You were right." "No. There's another rule here: no smoking of any kind." "For God's sake," said Costain, "isn't Spillo's a secluded smoking and drinking place instead of a food connoisseur's temple?" "It seems," LaFleur said solemnly, "I'm afraid you've confused the terms 'food taster' and 'gourmet'. Gourmets are looking for good food, and they need more and more types of food. In order to stimulate excessive appetite. The essence of food tasters is simplicity. The ancient Greeks wore coarse clothes and ate ripe olives with relish; the Japanese stayed in a simple room and admired the curve of a flower stem. It’s a lot of fun too—they’re true food tasters.” "But an occasional sip of brandy or a pipe," said Costain perplexed, "isn't an overindulgence." "It's liquor, it's narcotics," said Lafleur, "and one's delicate balance of taste is greatly disturbed by eating and drinking in turn, and one loses the most precious quality—a taste for good taste. I patronize Over the past few years at the Spiro restaurant, it has been fully confirmed that this truth is absolutely true." "You think there's a deep aesthetic motivation for banning alcohol and tobacco," Costain said. "What's the reason? Liquor licenses are expensive, and diners will object to smoking in such a small space." , Is it out of such secular considerations?" LaFleur shook his head vigorously. "If you ever meet Mr. Spiro," he said, "you'll quickly understand that he's not the type to be swayed by worldly prejudices. In fact, it was Mr. Spiro who first made me think What you call 'aesthetic motives'." "What a wonder," Costain said.By this time the waiter was serving the main course. Lafleur tasted half of the meat with relish, and after swallowing it, he spoke the following words. "I don't like to use words like 'most'. But in my opinion, Spiro is the representative figure standing at the highest peak of civilization!" Costain ate his share of the roast, and ate, ate, raising his eyebrows.The grilled meat is soaked in a thick soup, and there are no toppings such as green leafy vegetables.A faint steam floated out, and his nostrils smelled a wonderful and tantalizing fragrance, and he couldn't help but salivate.He chewed slowly and thoughtfully, as if he was not eating a piece of roast meat, but savoring Mozart (Mozart (1756-1791) Austrian composer, the main representative of the Vienna classical music school, he began to compose at the age of five and wrote a lot His works mainly include the opera "The Marriage of Figaro", "The Magic Flute" and symphony concerto, chamber music, etc.) The subtleties in the symphony.He found that the barbecue here does have endless flavors: the outer skin is crispy and spicy, and the inner layer is half-cooked. When you bite down, the blood is overflowing. You only feel that the taste is light, but satisfying. As soon as a piece of meat fell down, he was like a hungry ghost, and he kept trying to eat the second and third pieces. It took a lot of effort to restrain this voracious eating method, and he didn't finish the meat. .He wants to savor the delicacy carefully.After he ate all the grilled meat on the plate, he realized that he and Lafleur hadn't exchanged a single word during the whole process of eating meat.He brought up this detail, and LaFleur said, "Is it worth talking about such delicious food?" Costan looked up and looked around the dimly lit and shabby restaurant, and looked at the silent diners, which aroused new feelings. "I don't care," he said ashamedly, "I don't care either. I would like to express my unreserved apology for my doubts just now. Your words of praise to Si Biluo are to the point and there is no exaggeration." place." "Ah!" said LaFleur, looking beaming, "there's more to it. I told you about the specials here, but unfortunately they're not available tonight. What I just had just now is nothing in comparison. " "My God!" Costan exclaimed, "what kind of rare thing is that? Nightingale's tongue? Unicorn gravy?" "Neither," said LaFleur. "It's lamb." "Lamb?" LaFleur thought for a while, then said: "If I were to speak freely about this dish, you might think I was talking nonsense. When I think of this dish, I am drawn to it. This dish It is neither fatty rib meat nor strong leg meat. It is meat selected from a rare mutton that exists. The name of the dish is based on the name of that mutton—Amistan lamb.” Costan frowned and said, "Amistan lamb?" "Amistan is a little-known wilderness on the border between Afghanistan and Russia. From the few words Spillo occasionally mentioned, I guess it is a highland, and this fine sheep can graze the grass on the highland grass. Some survived. Through some means, Sibiluo obtained the monopoly right to make this kind of sheep, so he became the only restaurant owner with the right to label Amistan lamb on the menu. Tell you, you can eat this This dish can be said to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Whether the customer comes by chance and can eat this dish depends entirely on your luck." "I think," Costan said, "Spirito could have foretold the news of the supply." "The reason against this is very simple," LaFleur said, "there are a lot of gluttonous people in this city. If the news is revealed in advance, they may be out of curiosity. Once they know about this dish, they will eat it." Squeeze away regular customers in the store." "Are you saying," Costan argued differently, "that in this city, or in the wider world, there are only a handful of people present who know of the existence of such a restaurant as Spiro?" "That's pretty much it. For some reason, one or two of the regulars aren't here right now." "incredible." "This is because," said LaFleur with a hint of menace, "every customer is solemnly bound to a duty of confidentiality. You accept my invitation tonight, and you automatically assume that duty. I hope You don't live up to your obligations." Costan blushed. "I'm your employee, so I can keep my mouth shut. But I still have a question: Is it wise to keep so many people away from such a good dish?" "Do you know, if you do what you say, what kind of consequences will it cause?" Lafleur asked sharply, "then there will be a lot of idiots, complaining every night, why don't you serve chocolate sauce Roast duck. Can you tolerate this scene?" "No," Costain admitted, "so I have to agree with you." LaFleur leaned back in the chair sleepily, shaking a hand in front of his eyes, unable to understand what it meant. "I'm a lonely person," he said softly. "It's not that I want to be lonely. This may sound a little weird to you, doesn't it? It may sound like crazy, but I deeply feel that this restaurant is this crazy A warm refuge in a cold world, my home as well as my friend." In Costan's eyes, the other party was either a domineering employer or an overly gracious host.Hearing his words, he felt that his stomach was full and his body was comfortable, but there was an uncontrollable pity. Two weeks have passed since I accepted LaFleur's invitation to dine at the Spiro Restaurant together.During this time, it has become a routine ritual.Every day, shortly after five o'clock in the afternoon, Costain would walk out of his office, into the hallway, and lock the office door behind him.His coat was always neatly draped over his left arm, and he looked at the glass on the door and at the Homburg hat on his head (the Homburg hat is a kind of hat with rolled up brim and Longitudinal concave soft felt hat. Named after the first production in Homburg, Germany.) Is the angle of wearing it just right?In the past, he'd lit a cigarette after checking his cap, but at LaFleur's urging, he was determined to give his resolve to quit smoking a good try.Then he walked down the corridor, and LaFleur would follow, staying beside him, clearing his throat. "Oh, Costan, I hope you have nothing else planned for tonight?" "No." Costan always replied, "I'm free and unattached." Or "At your will." And so on.Sometimes he also wondered if it would be more decent if he declined occasionally to change the routine.But when Lafleur heard his answer, he was always radiant and elated, and he grabbed his arm enthusiastically and eagerly and left. Facing this situation, you couldn't refuse. Costan thought to himself: In the crisis-ridden business world, in order to gain a firm foothold, besides building a good relationship with your own employer, is there a more reliable way?A confidential secretary who is familiar with the inside information of the office has already publicly said that Lafleur loved Costain very much and obeyed.This has been of great benefit to him. And that food!The incomparable food at Spiro's!For the first time in his life, Costain, a skinny man, noticed that he was gaining weight.After two weeks, the muscles are smooth and plump instead of skinny and bony.There are signs of happiness everywhere, so why is he not happy?One night, while taking a shower, Costain looked at his body and thought at the same time that the stout LaFleur might have been a scrawny little guy before he discovered the new world of Spiro's. In this way, accepting LaFleur's invitation was obviously beneficial and harmless to him.Perhaps after having tasted the marvelous and well-received Amistan lamb and meeting Mr. Spiro, it would be fair to say no once or twice.Mr. Spiro hasn't been seen yet.It was absolutely impossible before. One night after two full weeks of dining at Spiro's, Costan's two wishes were granted: he ate amistan lamb and saw Spiro himself.But the result was far beyond his expectation. After the waiter seated the two of them, he immediately bent down and solemnly announced: "Gentlemen, special dishes are served tonight." Costan was extremely surprised, and couldn't wait, his heart was beating wildly.He saw Lafleur on the opposite side trembling violently with his hands on the table. "This is a bit out of order." Such an idea popped into his mind.Look at the two big men, who seem to be both shrewd and rational, how did they become so impatient, like a pair of greedy cats, waiting for others to throw their meat over! "That's it!" LaFleur's voice startled Costain so much that he almost jumped out of his seat. "An unprecedented achievement in culinary history! Faced with it, the emotions it inspires in you overwhelm you." "How do you know?" Costan asked in a low voice. "How do you know? Because I had the same experience of being at a loss as you did ten years ago. In addition, in addition to gaffes, I can easily see that human beings are salivating ugly when faced with the temptation of meat." "And what about the others here?" Costain asked in a low voice. "Will they have the same experience?" "You decide for yourself." Costain glanced furtively at a nearby table. "You're right," he said, "at least there are not a few people who feel that they are enjoying it." LaFleur tilted his head slightly and said, "One of them looks like he's going to be disappointed." Costan looked in the direction of his finger.A white-haired man sat alone at the table LaFleur pointed out, and the chair opposite him was empty.Costan frowned unconsciously. "No, yes," he remembered. "It's the stout bald man, isn't it? I believe it's the first time in two weeks that he hasn't come." "Perhaps for the first time in ten years," LaFleur said sympathetically, "I have never, rain or shine, good or bad, seen anything since I first dined at Spiro's He's not coming. Just imagine the look on his face when he learns that lamb amistan is the special of the day just when he's not coming for the first time in history?" Costain glanced uneasily at the empty chair again. "Is it really the first time you didn't come?" He murmured. "Mr. LaFleur! My friend! I'm very happy. Very, very happy. Don't, please don't stand up. I'll have a place to sit." As soon as the words fell, a chair magically appeared beside him at the table Down. "Amistan lamb is a sure hit, isn't it? I've been simmering and stewing in that awful kitchen all day, supervising the stupid cook myself, making sure everything doesn't go awry. It's Pretty important part, isn't it? Your friends don't know me. Is it an introduction?" His words were like a torrent of water, rolling in, only to hear ripples in Costan's heart, and humming in his ears.He was fascinated and dumbfounded.You can see that the other party's mouth is surprisingly wide open, spit out a monologue with ups and downs continuously, and the two thin lips are wriggling and twisting with the gurgling of each syllable.Look at that flat nose again, with a tuft of unkempt beard and hair underneath, and a pair of eyes facing away from each other, no different from the appearance of an oriental person, flickering under the flickering lights; look at the soft long hair coming from there The wrinkle-free forehead is combed back high--the hair color is very light, almost colorless.The face was so strange that Costan had a sense of déjà vu at the first glance, so he racked his brains and searched, but he just couldn't remember what happened. Costan was observing, and when he heard LaFleur's voice, he came back to his senses. "Mr. Spiro, this is Mr. Costan, he is my good friend and colleague." Costan stood up and held the hand that offered to reach out.Holding it in my hand, I just feel that the hand is warm, dry, and hard. "I'm so glad, Mr. Costain. Very, very pleased," he said, whimpering, "You like our place, don't you? You'll be well received here, I assure you." LaFleur couldn't help giggling. "No, Mr. Costain has been eating here every day for two weeks," he said. "He admires your store, Spiro." His eyes turned to Costan. "Courtesy of the wrong love. It's a great honor for you to dine here and I repay it with my food, don't I? I can assure you that the amistan lamb here is unrivaled, and you've never tasted anything like it before .The ingredients are hard to come by, so cooking should take some effort.” From that face, it looked like he had an annoying problem, but Costain did his best to ignore it. "I have thought," said he, "that if you have mentioned so many difficulties, why bother to dedicate the amistan lamb to everyone? Indeed, your other dishes here are good enough. , don’t worry about ruining your reputation.” Si Biluo was so happy that his face became a big disc. "Maybe it's a psychological problem, isn't it? Someone discovers a miracle, and you must share it with others. Maybe you only feel supremely happy when you see the obvious happiness of the people who explored with you. Maybe—" He shrugged, then added, "It's about business know-how." "Then, since you have given so many reasons," Costan insisted, "you have set those rules for customers, why do you want to open such a restaurant open to the public instead of a private club?" Is it better?" Facing Costan's eyes, his shining eyes suddenly stared closely, then moved away again. "Stunning eyes, eh? And I'll tell you why. Because personal privacy is better protected in a communal dining place than in the fanciest clubs of today! Here, no one asks questions about you." I have no intention of prying into the privacy of your life. I come here just for the word 'eat'. We are not interested in the names of the guests, where they live, and why they come and why they go. We don't want to inquire. Everyone who comes Customers are welcome. That's my answer, isn't it?" This impassioned statement left Costan dumbfounded. "I have no intention of prying into other people's private affairs." He stammered. The tip of Spiro's tongue licked the thin lips. "Yes, yes," he comforted the other party, "You don't want to pry into other people's private affairs. Don't let me give you that impression. On the contrary, you are welcome to ask questions." "Come on, Costan," LaFleur said, "don't freak out Spillo. I've known him for years. I assure you, he's got a snarky mouth and a tofu heart. Before long, he'll be Let you see all the treasures in the store-of course, except the kitchen, he will not let you see." "That's it," said Spiro with a smile on his face, "Mr. Costan seems to have to wait for a while, and I will follow orders for everything else." LaFleur happily clapped his hands on the table. "What did I tell you?" he said, "Sbilo, tell the truth, except for your subordinates, no one has ever entered your sacrosanct kitchen?" Spiro raised his head and pointed. "Look at the wall above your head," he said gravely. "It's a portrait of a man I have great respect for. He's a very close friend and a regular customer of mine. He's been in my kitchen enough Proof that my kitchen isn't empty." Costan carefully looked at the photos on the wall, and felt that they looked familiar. "No," he said excitedly, "he's a great writer--Lafleur, you know him--he wrote a lot of really good short stories and biting satires. Then he went away and disappeared in Mexico. Already!" "I know, of course I know!" LaFleur said loudly, "I can't believe that after sitting under his photo for so many years, I didn't recognize him!" He turned to Sibiluo and said, "Tell me, he is your closest friend." friend? His disappearance must have been a blow to you." Spillola has a long face. "Yes, yes. That's quite true. But, gentlemen, think about it the other way: he's probably more famous after his death than he was in his life, isn't he? He's a most tragic man. He often told me that the only time he felt happy was spent at this table. Sounds so miserable, doesn't it? The only favor I can give him is to let him see the mysteries of my kitchen with his own eyes. Actually , this is just an ordinary, ordinary kitchen." "It sounds to you like he's definitely dead," said Costain, "but there's no real evidence to prove that's the case." Sibiluo stared at the photo, lost in thought. "There's really no evidence," he said softly. "Strange, isn't it?" The main course was served.Sibiluo hurriedly stood up and took care of the two of them in person.He became high-spirited, took down the tureen on the tray, and smelled the aroma overflowing from it with his nose, showing a complacent and satisfied look.The juicy chunks are then placed on two shallow plates, being careful not to let a drop of juice go to waste.Then he seemed to be exhausted, panting for air, sat back on the chair, and leaned back on it. "Gentlemen," he said, "enjoy yourself." Costan chewed the first piece of meat carefully and swallowed it.Then he looked at the empty fork with a dazed expression. "My God!" he exclaimed in a low voice. "Not bad, isn't it? Better than you thought?" Costan shook his head blankly. "Just as it is impossible for a mortal to see into his own soul," he spoke slowly, "the uninitiated eater cannot imagine the wonderful things of the lamb of Amistan." "Maybe"——At this moment, Spillo poked his head over and moved closer to Costan, very close, so close that Costan could only feel a warm stench going straight into his nostrils—"Maybe, You've just looked into your own soul, haven't you?" Costain tried to move away a little, but not to appear offensive. "Perhaps so," he laughed, "and it makes for a pleasing picture: eyes full of fangs and claws. I mean no disrespect to you, and I don't want to worship Lamb Amistan as my church .” Sibiluo stood up and put a hand on his shoulder lightly. "What a keen eye," he said, "sometimes, when you're doing nothing, perhaps, to sit for a while in a dark room and think about the world—what a world it is, and what it's going to be—when Instead, consider the religious importance of lamb. That must be interesting. Now," he said, bowing deeply to the two of them, "I've interrupted you for too long, and prevented you from eating. I couldn't be happier," he said, nodding to Costain. "I believe that you and I will meet later." I saw the row of teeth shining brightly, and the eyes were piercing.Spiro disappeared in the aisle between the dining tables. Costan turned around and looked at the receding figure. "Did I offend him a little?" he asked. LaFleur stopped eating and looked up. “冒犯他？他就爱这样交谈。阿米斯坦羔羊肉是他的宗教仪式，只要让他开了话头，就会缠着你说个没完没了，比牧师劝人皈依改宗还要糟糕十多倍。” 科斯坦又吃起来，可那张脸还在他面前晃动着。“挺有趣的一个人，”他心想道，“非常有趣。” 他花了一个月的时间才发现，那脸为什么使他感到出奇地熟悉。一旦发现了，他躺在床上禁不住哈哈大笑起来。可不是，自然可笑。《爱丽斯漫游奇境记》（《爱丽斯漫游奇境记》是十九世纪英国作家刘易斯·卡罗尔写的童话作品。）里的那只咧嘴而笑的柴郡猫想必是以斯碧洛为模特写成的！ 第二天傍晚，科斯坦和拉弗勒冒着强劲的寒风，在通往斯碧洛餐馆的路上费力地走着。这时候他把自己的想法告诉了拉弗勒。拉弗勒听了像是无动于衷。 “也许被你说对了。”他说，“察言观色我不在行。那本书我也记不清是猴年马月读过的，反正是好久好久以前的事了，真的。” 像是要接过他的话头似的，猛然间街那边响起了尖厉的号叫声，两个人顿时停住了脚步。“那儿有人出事了！”拉弗勒说，“瞧瞧去！” 只见在离斯碧洛餐馆入口处不远的地方，两个人影在向晚的暮色中厮打在一起。两个人扭打着，时而往前，时而向后。突然两个人抱成一团，一起滚到了路边的人行道上。令人可怜的号叫声又响了起来，拉弗勒虽说是大胖子，却以相当快的速度朝那边奔去，把个科斯坦落在后面，小心翼翼地跟着。 人行道上直挺挺躺着一个身材细长的人，脸色微黑，头发白花花的。一看，是斯碧洛手下的一个仆人。一双大手掐住他的喉咙，他的手指想把那大手板开去。对方庞大的身躯残忍地压下来，他用膝盖有气无力地顶着，想从这重压下挣脱出来。 拉弗勒气喘吁吁跑了上去。“住手！”他大喝一声，“倒是怎么回事？” 那双几乎从眼窝里爆出来的眼睛带着乞求的神情，转向拉弗勒。“救救我，先生。这个人——醉了。” “我醉了，你这脏——”这时科斯坦看见那人是名水手，身穿肮脏的水手服。周围的空气里充斥着浓烈的酒味。“掏了我的口袋，还说我醉了，你倒是敢再说一遍——！”他的手指更加使劲地往对方肉里抠。对方被抠得直哼哼。 拉弗勒一把抓住水手的肩膀。“松手，听到了没有？马上松开你的手！”他大声喝道。紧接着那水手歪歪斜斜地身子撞在科斯坦身上。科斯坦被撞得踉踉跄跄直往后退。 拉弗勒看到自己人吃了亏，火冒三丈，立即采取了行动。他二话没说往水手猛扑过去，冷不防，对准对方的脸和肋骨猛揍狠踢起来。那家伙开始时被打蒙了，后来站了起来，向拉弗勒猛冲过去。两人立刻紧扭在一起。科斯坦也过来参战。最后扭打得三个人都直挺挺瘫在地上。拉弗勒和科斯坦慢慢地爬起来，低头看了看躺在地下的那个人。 “你看他要么是喝醉酒昏过去了，”科斯坦说，“要么倒下时脑袋着地。不管怎么说，得叫警察来处理。” “别，别，先生，”那侍者有气无力地从地上爬了起来，身子摇摇晃晃。“别叫警察。斯碧洛先生不喜欢这样做。你是知道的，先生。”他说罢抓住科斯坦，恳求起来，科斯坦看了看拉弗勒。 “当然用不着。”拉弗勒说，“没有必要惊动警察。这个凶残的酒鬼，很快就会有人把他扶起来的。可这到底是怎么回事？” “那家伙，先生。他走起路来东倒西歪的怪样子，我推了他一下，可没恶意。他就对我动手了，说我要抢他的东西。” “不出我所料。”拉弗勒轻轻地推了推侍者。“现在你走吧，叫人好好照料照料。” 看样子侍者这就眼泪夺眶而出了。“先生，多亏了你，我才捡回这条命。要是有用得着我的地方——” 斯碧洛餐馆门前有块空地。拉弗勒转身向那里走去。“用不着，用不着，这算不了什么。你去吧，要是斯碧洛问起什么，请他来找我。我会给说清楚的。” “你救了我一命，先生。”餐馆的二门刚在他们身后关上，最后他们听到这么一句话。 “你看看，科斯坦，”几分钟后，拉弗勒从桌子下拉出椅子，说，“一个年富力强的文明人，酒气冲天，就因为一个可怜的人靠他太近，无缘无故竟要把他往死里整。” 想来这件事虽也算得上触目惊心，但科斯坦还是尽力轻描淡写一言带过。“只有得了神经病的人才会酗酒。”他说，“不过那水手醉得这般地步肯定事出有因。” “事出有因？当然有原因，不折不扣是野蛮的返祖现象！”拉弗勒的手一挥，颇有大包大揽的架势。“我们大家为什么坐在这里吃肉？这不仅仅为了满足生理需要，也因为我们的返祖本性迫切需要释放。想想，科斯坦。你记不记得我曾把斯碧洛说成是文明的代表？现在明白我为什么这么说吧？他真了不起，透彻了解人的本性。但他与那些平庸之辈不同，他全力以赴，一心致力于满足我们与生俱来的本性，同时对那些无知的旁观者又不会造成伤害。” “我一想起阿米斯坦羔羊肉奇妙之处，”科斯坦说，“对你这番话的用意就一清二楚了。顺便问一声，它就要在菜单上出现吗？上次是一个多月前供应的吧？” 那侍者往他俩的平底杯里倒水，支支吾吾说：“很抱歉，先生，今晚不供应那道特色菜。” “听到他的回答了？”拉弗勒嘟囔道，“也许该我倒霉，下次该轮到我把机会错过了。” 科斯坦呆呆地看了他一眼。“得了吧，不可能的事。” “该死，怎么不可能？”拉弗勒一口就把杯子里的水喝了一半，侍者立即把杯子加满。“我要出其不意去南美作一次视察。时间是一个月，或两个月，到底有多久只有老天爷知道。” “那边的事很糟吗？” “也许不那么糟。”拉弗勒突然咧嘴一笑，“别忘了，我在斯碧洛餐馆的开销可是一笔不小的数目。” “我在办公室里可没听人说起过这回事。” “要是你听说过，就算不得是出其不意了。除了我自己，没一个人知道——现在还有你也知道。我要对他们来个突然袭击。把他们在那边搞的鬼名堂弄个水落石出。至于办公室的人，我要对他们说要到某个地方作短途旅游。也许说：太累了要到某个疗养地去疗养。反正我会把生意交给可靠的人代为管理，你也算一个。” “我？”科斯坦吃了一惊，问道。 “明天你一上班，就收到提职的通知了。不过不是我亲手交给你的。请注意，这跟你我的友情毫不相关。是你工作出色，出自我对你的一片深深的感激之情。” 科斯坦听了这番赞扬的话，变得容光焕发。“明天你不去上班，就是说今晚就要动身了？” 拉弗勒点点头。“这一阵我一直在忙着预订车票和住宿的事。要是办妥了——那么——这一次自然是个告别宴了。” “你要知道，”科斯坦慢声慢气地说，“我衷心希望，但愿你办不妥才好呢。我相信，我们在这儿就餐的意义远超出我的想象。” 这时候侍者插嘴了。“现在好上菜了吗，先生？”这让两个人都吃了一惊。 “当然，当然。”拉弗勒粗声粗气地说，“我没有注意到你在候着。” “让我耿耿于怀的是，”侍者转身走后，拉弗勒对科斯坦说，“这下吃不上阿米斯坦羔羊肉了。说实话，早在一星期前我本要走了，之所以一拖再拖，实指望哪天晚上碰上个好运。可现在非走不可了。我希望哪天你坐在这儿享用自己那份阿米斯坦羔羊肉时，能不无遗憾地想到我。” 科斯坦哈哈一笑。“会的，一定会的。”他说着，吃了起来。 他刚把盘子里的东西吃完，一名侍者伸手拿盘子。他注意到，这不是通常伺候他们的那名侍者。恰恰是挨打的那人。 “我说，”科斯坦问，“现在感觉怎么样？还不舒服吗？” 侍者没有理会，却带着那种心情极紧张的人才会有的神色，转身低声对拉弗勒说：“你救了我一命，先生。多亏了你。我能舍命报答你的恩德！” 拉弗勒吃惊地抬起了头，使劲摇了摇。“不，”他说，“我压根不图报，明白吗？你三番五次谢我，也算是报答过我了。你干活去吧，再也别提这事了。” 那侍者听了没动弹，说话声反而提高了些：“我对上帝起血誓，先生，哪怕你不想图报，我也要救你！千万别到那个厨房去，先生。我说这话是用自己的生命来换你的生命的。今晚，今后任何时候都不要进斯碧洛餐馆的厨房！” 拉弗勒身子向后一靠，惊呆了。“别进那个厨房？如果斯碧洛先生心血来潮，邀请我去，为什么去不得？这到底怎么回事？” 一只手重重地落到科斯坦的背上，又一只手抓住那侍者的手臂。侍者一动不动僵在原地，紧闭双唇，两眼低垂。 “你们倒是在议论什么，先生们？”只听见响起嘟嘟囔囔声，“来得真叫巧。次次如此，我看，我这次来得也很及时，正好回答你们所有的问题，是不是？” 拉弗勒轻舒一口气。“啊，斯碧洛先生，谢天谢地，你可来了。这家伙口口声声说我不能进你们店的厨房。你知不知道他这是什么意思？” 斯碧洛的嘴巴咧得大大的，露出牙齿来。“可不是。这个人心肠好，他这是真心实意忠告你呢。事情是这样的：我的那个爱激动的厨师听到传言，说是我可能让一个客人到他那个宝贝厨房去，把他惹得火冒三丈。看他那气冲冲的模样，真叫人害怕，先生们！他甚至当场威胁说要撂挑子不干了。你们都清楚，这对斯碧洛餐馆意味着什么。幸好，我成功地向他表明，能请到一位尊敬的客人和地道的行家来现场看看他的手艺，那是莫大的光荣。如今他已心平气和了，一点也不生气了，是不是？” 他放开侍者的胳膊。“这里不是你伺候的地方。”他轻声说，“记住：这种事再也不允许发生了。” 侍者头耷拉着，悄悄溜走了。斯碧洛拖来一张椅子，在桌前坐了下去，伸手轻轻捋了捋头发。“这下把底给你们露了，是不是？拉弗勒先生，这次请你来，本想给你一个惊喜。可是再也没惊喜可言了。所剩下的只有'邀请'这点心意了。” 拉弗勒抹了抹额头上的汗珠。“你这是认真的吗？”他问，嗓子嘶哑，“你是说，今晚我们果真能亲眼目睹你的菜肴是怎样做出来的？” 斯碧洛那锐利的指甲在台布上划了一下，在上面留下一条又细又直的指甲痕。“唉，”他说，“我这是面临重大的左右为难的境地。”他一本正经地端详着那道痕迹。“你，拉弗勒先生，是我的老顾客，先后长达十年了。不过这位朋友——” 科斯坦举起手以示不满。“我完全明白。这次你只是邀请拉弗勒先生一人。我待在这里自然太令人尴尬了。不过巧得很，今晚早些时候我另有约会，反正我这就走。所以你不会左右为难的。真的。” “不行，”拉弗勒说，“绝对不行。那太不公平了。你我一直是同来同去的，科斯坦。要是缺了你，还有什么乐趣可言？斯碧洛可以通融通融，无非就这一次。” 两个人都看着斯碧洛，只见他遗憾地耸耸肩。 科斯坦“霍”地站了起来。“我再也不能在这儿待下去了，拉弗勒。不然会糟蹋你们伟大的历程的。何况，”他像是开玩笑，说，“一想到那个凶相毕露的厨师手握屠刀等着向你砍来，我还是不在现场好。我这就告辞。”拉弗勒因负疚而默默无言，为此，免得造成冷场的局面，科斯坦还是接着说下去，“好让你跟斯碧洛单独一起。我相信，他会费尽心血让你看到精彩场面的。”他说罢伸出手，拉弗勒狠狠地紧紧握了握。 “你真够朋友，科斯坦，”他说，“我希望你继续在这里就餐，以后我们还会在这里重逢。重逢的日子不会太久的。” 斯碧洛让出路来让科斯坦过去。“我恭候你。”然后说句法语：“再见。” 科斯坦在那个灯光暗淡的门厅里停了一小会，在镜子前整整领带，把霍姆堡毡帽戴正。然后满意地转过身，最后看到拉弗勒和斯碧洛已到了厨房门口，斯碧洛正在用一只手热情地把持着那敞开的厨房门，另一只手柔情脉脉地放在拉弗勒肉团团的肩上。