The Empire of Yearning Read Free Page A

Salm-Salm lifted his glass and smiled.
    By now, the bootblack had completed his task but remained on the cobblestones, perched upon his knees, waiting for a coin. Salm-Salm did nothing, so Diego rooted in his pockets till he found a claco. He tossed it toward the boy, who snatched it from the air, fast as a frog snapping at a fly. He got up and trotted away.
    Salm-Salm breathed in through his slender nose, as if testing the sweltering reek of the air. He said he was willing to advance Diego’s case with the Austrian in person. “His Majesty is, after all, a relative of mine.”
    “A cousin, I think you said.”
    Salm-Salm puckered his brow for a moment, then brightened. “A second cousin, I believe. On my mother’s side.”
    “You are close, then?”
    “Oh, I should think so. Oh yes.” Salm-Salm expanded on his proposal. He was willing to promote his Mexican friend’s cause to the Austrian, encouraging the man to grant clemency in the case of Baldemar Peralta.
    “That would be a great kindness.” Diego drummed the tabletop with his fingers. “And you would expect, in return, precisely … what?”
    “Nothing. Merely your good opinion.”
    “I see.”
    The prince leaned back in his chair, clasped both hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. “You know,” he said, “what I best remember about Max is his taste for hikes. He was forever setting off on some great expedition.”
    “On foot?”
    “Of course. How else?”
    Diego shrugged. As it happened, walking was not a popular enterprise in Mexico, or at least not among those who could afford another means of conveyance. The use of one’s legs as a method of locomotion? Thatwas for the poor and the derelict. Europe, it seemed, took a different view. “I wonder what else I should know about your cousin.”
    Salm-Salm leaned in close. “That he is the very soul of discretion.”
    “In what sense?”
    “Oh, for example, do not expect to encounter him at the principal entrance of any building. He does not like to be conspicuous, not Max. He is the very reverse of Mexico and its love affair with ostentation. Look to find him leaving by the most unrecognizable gate.”
    Diego frowned. “You think this information will be of use on some occasion?”
    The prince shrugged. “You never know. Perhaps. In your case, I believe it will.”
    They both eyed their drinks.
    “And what of my proposal?” said Salm-Salm.
    “I would be greatly in your debt.”
    “Nonsense. Debts are for tradesmen.”
    “And gamblers.”
    “True. And gamblers.” The European reached into the pockets of his trousers, as if in search of money, but he came up empty-handed. “Perhaps there
is
one thing you can do for me, if I help to save your friend’s life.”
    Diego waited.
    “Introduce me to Ángela Peralta. You know, your friend’s sister.”
    “I know who she is.”
    “Of course you do.
The greatest singer Mexico has ever produced.
”
    Diego waited, wondering what the man would say next.
    “I have a proposal to make about her son.”
    “Son!” Diego laughed. “Your informants have misled you there. Ángela has no son.”
    “Indeed she does. It was all the talk in New York City not long ago. You may know of the father. Ángel de Iturbide.”
    “That’s nonsense.”
    “I swear it’s true.”
    “It is a lie and a slander. You would be wise to take it back.”
    The prince raised his eyebrows. He seemed about to speak but then reached for his drink instead. “All right then. I take it back.”
    “Good.”
    “Still, I would like to meet the woman. A small price to pay for the life of your friend.”
    Diego climbed to his feet. The exchange had unsettled him. He did not like to hear Ángela’s name mentioned—or not by just anyone. His head was pounding again, and he felt as if mud were oozing through his vitals.
    “Very well,” he said. “I will give it some thought.” Diego tossed the boy a pair of medios to cover the cost of the drinks. He took up his hat.