The Belly of an Architect Page #3

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the Secretary | of the Society of Historical Buildings.

And an expert on nightclubs.

May l? Dr. Trettorio.

Dr. Trettorio is an expert | on the diseases of the ancient world.

Are you a modern architect, Mr. Kracklite?

No more modern than I should be.

No more modern than Boulle, | would you say?

Replicas of whose buildings now appear | in every authoritarian capital in the world.

Moscow, Peking, East Berlin.

And Rome, Signorina Speckler?

Are you saying | Boulle was the first Fascist architect?

Ask my brother.

Do you think Mussolini admired Boulle?

Albert Speer did, | and Speer was Hitler's architect.

Augustus would have admired Boulle.

Go to Via Ripetta. Look at his tomb.

Don't encourage him, please.

Augustus' wife chose it.

But first she made sure | he would fit inside it...

after all the trouble she had taken.

-Trouble? What trouble? | -Poison.

You see, Augustus felt this dryness | at the back of his throat...

and then a cold shiver across his shoulders.

A pain...

Iike a poker in the small of his back. | A desire to vomit.

It was obviously poison.

His neck became stiff, | his ears began to sing...

his eyes to flutter.

The buttons popped off his jacket--

-Jacket? Are you sure? | -Yes.

Caspasian believes | everyone of substance wears a suit.

And a gallon of yellow bile | erupted from his mouth....

Sorry, Flavia. It was just a history lesson.

For foreigners.

Signor Battistino. You all right?

Of course he's all right.

It sounded like he was dying | just a few minutes ago.

Well, an exhibition like this in Rome...

about an obscure French architect | organized by an American architect...

needs all the publicity it can get.

Wouldn't you say?

I'm gonna go back to the apartment. | I've got some work to do.

Why don't you go sight-seeing? | The Specklers can take you.

God, Stourley! Why don't you take me?

Louisa, please, go with the Specklers. | I'll talk to you later.

Say goodbye for me, okay?

Anything for Boulle.

-Beg your pardon? | -lt is closed.

There is nothing much inside anyway.

This is the Tomb of Augustus?

Yes, but he is not at home.

-Louisa, do you like figs? | -Yes.

-I want you to eat a fig for me. | -Not now.

Why not now?

Because it's late and I'm sleeping.

Come on.

Just eat a fig for me. | You can have a little wine afterwards.

-Why? | -Come on.

-Come on, do it for me. | -Stop it.

Take a big bite out of it.

-I don't want one. | -Eat the fig.

-God damn it. Eat it! | -You're hurting me!

Why did you do that?

Okay. All right, I see.

What do you see?

You say you like figs, | but you never touch them, do you? Never.

What is this about?

I just wanted to see what happened to you | if you ate one of those figs, that's all.

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