rl.thebourneidentity-第33部分

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　'Well；　a　small　ranch　would　be　more　like　it。　Small　in　parison　to　the　king…sized　ones　in　Alberta。　In　my　father's　time；　when　a　Canuke　went　west　to　buy　land；　there　were　unwritten　restrictions。　Don't　pete　in　size　with　your　betters。　He　often　said　that　if　he'd　used　the　name　St　James　rather　than　St　Jacques；　he'd　be　a　far　wealthier　man　today。'
　'He　was　a　rancher？'
　Marie　had　laughed。　'No；　he　was　an　accountant　who　became　a　rancher　by　way　of　a　Vickers　bomber　in　the　war。　He　was　a　pilot　in　the　Royal　Canadian　Air　Force。　I　guess　once　he　saw　all　that　sky；　an　accounting　office　seemed　a　little　dull。'
　That　takes　a　lot　of　nerve。'
　'More　than　you　know。　He　sold　cattle　he　didn't　own　on　land　he　didn't　have　before　he　bought　the　ranch。　French…to…the…core；　people　said。'
　'I　think　I'd　like　him。'
　'You　would。'
　She　had　lived　in　Calgary　with　her　parents　and　two　brothers　until　she　was　eighteen；　when　she　went　to　McGill　University　in　Montreal　and　the　beginnings　of　a　life　she　had　never　contemplated。　An　indifferent　student　who　preferred　racing　over　the　fields　on　the　back　of　a　horse　to　the　structured　boredom　of　a　convent　school　in　Alberta；　discovered　the　excitement　of　using　her　mind。
　'It　was　really　as　simple　as　that；〃　she　told　him。　'I'd　looked　at　books　as　natural　enemies；　and　suddenly　here　I　was　in　a　place　surrounded　by　people　who　were　caught　up　in　them；　having　a　marvellous　time。　Everything　was　talk。　Talk　all　day；　talk　all　night　…　in　classrooms　and　seminars；　in　crowded　booths　over　pitchers　of　beer；　I　think　it　was　the　talk　that　turned　me　on。　Does　that　make　sense　to　you？'
　'I　can't　remember；　but　I　can　understand；'　Bourne　said。　'I　have　no　memories　of　college　or　friends！　like　that；　but　I'm　pretty　sure　I　was　there。'　He　smiled。　Talking　over　pitchers　of　beer　is　a　pretty　strong　impression。'
　She　smiled　back。　'And　I　was　pretty　impressive　in　that　department。　A　strapping　girl　from　Calgary　with　two　older　brothers　to　pete　with；　could　drink　more　beer　than　half　the　university　boys　in　Montreal。'
　'You　must　have　been　resented。〃
　'No；　just　envied。'
　A　new　world　had　been　presented　to　Marie　St　Jacques；　she　never　return　to　her　old　one。　Except　for　prescribed　mid…term　holidays；　prolonged　trips　to　Calgary　grew　less　and　less　frequent。　Her　circles　in　Montreal　expanded；　the　summers　taken　up　with　jobs　in　and　outside　the　university。　She　gravitated　first　to　history；　then　reasoned　that　most　of　history　was　shaped　by　economic　forces　…　power　and　significance　had　to　be　paid　for　…　and　so　she　tested　the　theories　of　economics。　And　was　consumed。
　She　remained　at　McGill　for　five　years；　receiving　her　master's　degree　and　a　Canadian　Government　Fellowship　to　Oxford。
　'That　was　a　day；　I　can　tell　you。　I　thought　my　father　would　have　an　apoplectic　fit。　He　left　his　precious　cattle　to　my　brothers　long　enough　to　fly　east　to　talk　me　out　of　it！
　Talk　you　out　of　it？　Why？　He　was　an　accountant；　you　were　going　after　a　doctorate　in　economics。'
　'Don't　make　that　mistake；'　Marie　exclaimed。　'Accountants　and　economists　are　natural　enemies。　One　views　trees；　the　other　forests；　and　the　visions　are　usually　at　odds；　as　they　should　be。　Besides；　my　father's　not　simply　Canadian；　he's　French…Canadian。　I　think　he　saw　me　as　a　traitor　to　Versailles。　But　he　was　mollified　when　I　told　him　that　a　condition　of　the　fellowship　was　a　mitment　to　work　for　the　government　for　a　minimum　of　three　years。　He　said　I　could　〃serve　the　cause　better　from　within〃。　Vive　Quebec；　vive　la　France！'
　They　both　laughed。
　The　three…year　mitment　to　Ottawa　was　extended　for　all　the　logical　reasons：　whenever　she　thought　of　leaving；　she　was　promoted　given　a　larger　office　and　an　expanded　staff。
　'Power　corrupts；　of　course；'　she　smiled；　'and　no　one　knows　it　better　than　a　ranking　bureaucrat　whom　banks　and　corporations　pursue　for　a　remendation。　But　I　think　Napoleon　said　it　better。　〃Give　me　enough　medals　and　I'll　win　you　any　war　〃　So　I　stayed。　I　enjoy　my　work　immensely。　But　then　it's　work　I'm　good　at　and　that　helps。'
　Jason　watched　her　as　she　talked。　Beneath　the　controlled　exterior　there　was　an　exuberant；　childlike　quality　about　her。　She　was　an　enthusiast；　reining　in　her　enthusiasm　whenever　she　felt　it　being　too　pronounced。　Of　course　she　was　good　at　what　she　did；　he　suspected　she　never　did　anything　with　less　than　her　fullest　application。　'I'm　sure　you　are　…　good；　I　mean　…　but　it　doesn't　leave　much　time　for　other　things；　does　it？'
　'What　other　things？'
　'Oh；　the　usual。　Husband；　family；　house　with　a　white　picket　fence。'
　'They　may　e　one　day；　I　don't　rule　them　out。'
　'But　they　haven't。'
　'No。　There　were　a　couple　of　close　calls；　but　no　brass　ring。　Or　diamond；　either。'
　'Who's　Peter？'
　The　smile　faded。　'I'd　forgotten。　You　read　the　cable。'
　I'm　sorry。'
　'Don't　be。　We've　covered　that。。　Peter？　I　adore　Peter。　We　lived　together　for　nearly　two　years；　but　it　didn't　work　out'
　'Apparently　he　doesn't　hold　any　grudges。'
　'He'd　better　not！'　She　laughed　again。　'He's　director　of　the　section；　hopes　for　a　cabinet　appointment　soon。　It　he　doesn't　behave　himself。　I'll　tell　the　department　of　Treasury　what　he　doesn't　know　and　he'll　be　back　as　an　SX…Two。'
　'He　said　he　was　going　to　pick　you　up　at　the　airport　on　the　twenty…sixth　You'd　better　cable　him。'
　'Yes；　I　know。'
　Her　leaving　was　what　they　had　not　talked　about；　they　had　avoided　the　subject　as　though　it　were　a　distant　eventuality。　It　was　not　related　to　what…had…happened；　it　was　something　that　was　going　to　be。　Marie　had　said　she　wanted　to　help　him。　he　had　accepted；　assuming　she　was　given　by　false　gratitude　into　staying　with　him　for　a　day　or　so　…　and　he　was　grateful　for　that。　But　anything　else　was　unthinkable。
　Which　was　why　they　did　not　talk　about　it。　Words　and　looks　had　passed　between　them；　quiet　laughter　evoked；　fort　established。　At　odd　moments　there　were　tentative　rushes　of　warmth　and　they　both　understood　and　backed　away。　Anything　else　was　unthinkable。
　So　they　kept　returning　to　the　abnormality；　to　what…had…happened。　To　him　more　than　to　them；　for　he　was　the　irrational　reason　for　their　being　together。。。　together　in　a　room　at　a　small　village　inn　in　Switzerland。　Abnormality。　It　was　not　part　of　the　reasonable；　ordered　world　of　Marie　St　Jacques；　and　because　it　was　not；　her　orderly；　analytical　mind　was　provoked。　Unreasonable　things　were　to　be　examined；　unravelled；　explained。　She　became　relentless　in　her　probing；　as　insistent　as　Geoffrey　Washburn　had　been　on　the　lie　de　Port　Noir；　but　without　the　doctor's　patience。　For　she　did　not　have　the　time：　she　knew　it　and　it　drove　her　to　the　edges　of　stridency。
　'When　you　read　the　newspapers；　what　strikes　you？'
　The　mess。　Seems　it's　universal。'
　'Be　serious。　What's　familiar　to　you？'
　'Almost　everything；　but　I　can't　tell　you　why。'
　'Give　me　an　example。'
　'This　morning。　There　was　a　story　about　an　American　arms　shipment　to　Greece　and　the　subsequent　debate　in　the　United　Nations；　the　Russians　protested。　I　understand　the　significance；　the　Mediterranean　power　struggle；　the　Middle　East　spillover。'
　'Give　me　another。'
　'There　was　an　article　about　East　German　interference　with　the　Bonn　government's　liaison　office　in　Warsaw。　Eastern　bloc；　western　bloc；　again　I　understood。'
　'You　see　the　relationship；　don't　you？　You're　politically　…　receptive。'
　'Or　I　have　a　perfectly　normal　working　knowledge　of　current　events。　I　don't　think　I　was　ever　a　diplomat。　The　money　at　the　Gememschaft　would　rule　out　any　kind　of　government　employment。〃
　'I　agree；　still　you're　politically　aware。　What　about　maps？　You　asked　me　to　buy　you　maps。　What　es　to　mind　when　you　look　at　them？'
　'In　some　cases　names　trigger　images；　just　as　they　did　in　Zurich。　Buildings；　hotels；　streets。。。　sometimes　faces。　But　never　names。　The　faces　don't　have　any。'
　'Still　you've　travelled　a　great　deal。'
　'I　believe　I；　have。〃
　'You　know　you　have。'
　'All　right；　I've　travelled。'
　'How　did　you　travel？'
　'What　do　you　mean；　how？'
　'Was　it　usually　by　plane；　or　by　car　…　not　taxis　but　driving　yourself？'
　'Both；　I　think。　Why？'
　'Planes　would　mean　greater　distances　more　frequently。　Did　people　meet　you？　Are　there　faces　at　airports；　hotels？'
　'Streets；'　he　replied　involuntarily。
　'Streets？　Why　streets？'
　'I　don't　know。　Faces　met　me　in　the　streets。。。　and　in　quiet　places。　Dark　pla