Banco: The Further Adventures of Papillon Read Online Free

to persuade the bartender to take my money instead.
    Someone touched me on the shoulder. It was Maria. “Come home. It’s lunchtime. Don’t drink anymore; you promised me not to drink too much.”
    José was arguing with another man; she said nothing to him, but took me by the arm and led me out.
    “What about your father?”
    “Let him be. I can never say anything to him when he’s drinking and I never come to fetch him from the café. He wouldn’t have it, anyway.”
    “Why did you come and fetch me, then?”
    “You’re different. Be good, Enrique, and come along.” Her eyes were so brilliant, and she said it so simply, I went back to the house with her.
    “You deserve a kiss,” she said when we got there. And she put her lips to my cheek, too near my mouth.
    José came back after we had had lunch together at the round table. The youngest sister helped Picolino eat, giving him his food little by little.
    José sat down by himself. He was high, so he spoke without thinking. “Enrique is frightened of you, my girls,” he said, “so frightened he wants to go away. I told him that in my opinion he could stay, and that my girls were old enough to know what they were doing.”
    Maria gazed at me. She looked astonished, perhaps disappointed. “If he wants to go, Papa, let him. But I don’t think he’d be better off anywhere else than he is here, where everyone likes him.” And turning to me she added, “Enrique, don’t be a coward. If you like one of us, and she likes you, why should you run away?”
    “On account of he’s married in France,” her father said.
    “How long since you saw your wife?”
    “Fourteen years.”
    “The way we see it, if you love a man you don’t necessarily marry him. If you give yourself to a man, it’s to love him, nothing more. But it was quite right of you to tell our father you were married, because like that you can’t promise any of us anything at all, aside from just loving her.” And she asked me to stay with them without committing myself. They would look after Picolino and I would be more free to work. She even said I could pay a little, as if I were a boarder, to ease my mind. Did I agree?
    I had no time to think properly. It was all so new and so quick after my years as a convict. I agreed.
    “Would you like me to go with you to the gold mine this afternoon to ask for a job? We could go at five, when the sun is lower. It’s a mile and a half from the village.”
    “Fine.”
    Picolino’s movements and his expression showed how pleased he was that we were going to stay. The girls’ kindness and their care had won his heart. My staying was chiefly on account of him. Because here I was pretty sure I’d have an affair before long, and I wasn’t sure it would suit me.
    With all that had been going on inside my head these last fourteen years, with all that had kept me from sleeping all those nights in prison, I was not going to drop everything as quickly as all this and settle down in a village at the far end of the world just because of a girl’s pretty face. I had a long road in front of me, and any stops must be short. Just long enough to catch my breath. Because there was a reason why I had been fighting for my liberty these fourteen years and there was a reason why I had won the fight; and that reason was revenge . The prosecuting counsel, the false witness, the cop: I had a score to settle with them. And that was something I was never to forget. Never.
    I wandered out to the village square. I noticed a shop with the name Prospéri over it and figured the owner must be a Corsican or an Italian. Indeed, the little shop did belong to the descendant of a Corsican. Monsieur Prospéri spoke very good French. He kindly suggested writing a letter for me to the manager of La Mocupia, the French company that worked the Caratal gold mine. This splendid man even offered to help me with money. I thanked him for everything and went out.
     
     
    “What are you doing