Excerpt
They had to assume that their servants had already been approached
to report on what went on in the house and on what was talked about.
“Don’t forget,” he said. “Everything that you say will be taken as coming
out of my mouth and originating from my mind.”
Silence fell between them while Ken thought about what his father had
said. He asked about his aunt Helen who had just come to visit. She was
his mother’s older sister – a strikingly beautiful woman, tall with startling
green eyes and gleaming, long black hair. She spent most of her time in
her bedroom, rarely coming out to talk with anyone but when she did she
invariably took a contrary viewpoint. She was late for everything, including
meals. Most disturbingly, from Ken’s point of view, there was an aura
of profound sadness about her. Ken thought he understood a bit about
that because although he was blissfully happy most of the time, every
now and then, when he looked at the world and the things people did to
each other, a feeling of deep, almost overwhelming sorrow would pass
through him and linger for some moments.
Ken’s father explained that his aunt was a very unhappy woman and
apparently, from what his father had learned and read of his mother’s
family history, there had been at least one suicide in the family’s eighteen
generations. However, it was something no one talked about. It was
considered shameful, he said. Some family members even believed that
such deep unhappiness was contagious. “I don’t believe it,” he told Ken. “I
think it’s nonsense. But this has been a legend and a belief for so long that
it has taken on its own power.”
The next day Ken’s father introduced him to Francisco, who he called
Frank, the Count of Peniche. Frank was six-foot-two, with a perfectly
bald shining dome. From the tips of his gleaming shoes to his courtly and
gentle manners, he was perfectly polished. He shook Ken’s hand and the
two of them chatted for a while about Ken’s drawings and his adventures
on the beach. Then Frank said, “I have brought you something. I gather
that my namesake, Francisco, has told you many stories about northern
Canada.”
“Yes.”
“And are you interested in that?”
“Yes – very interested.”
“Well, I have a book here, which tells the story of a biologist who went
to study snow geese in Ungava Bay and during his time there fell in love
with a Cree woman. So this is the story of how all that happened and how
they lived their lives. Are you interested in it?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well, if you like it, I also have other books that deal with Canada.
Libros Libertad 