The Land Across Read Free

husband spoke.
    “He too says they do not like us. They will kill him if you escape. He says we could tie you up and keep you a prisoner in that way, which many would do. He says please do you not escape, or take us with you if you do.”
    I told her I would not escape.
    “Kleon does not understand, but learns from our faces. Has mine told you what I think?”
    I said it had not.
    “See that you do as I.”
    I nodded.
    “What you just did he understands. For us it might be most fortunate if you were to remember this. Try also to make long answers to my short questions, long, long answers to my long questions. In this way he will know only what I tell him. It is good for you and me, I think.”
    “I have a great many questions to ask you,” I said, “questions about your country, this city, this house, your husband, and yourself, lovely lady. Where can I telephone the American embassy and a bunch of other stuff. What I’m trying to tell you is that I’ll have long questions as well as long answers.”
    “Here no one has the telephones you seek. In the capital, perhaps.” She talked to her husband for two or three minutes. He shook his head, said a few words, and spat into the fireplace.
    “He will answer none of your questions.” She smiled. “He thinks you are a JAKA spy. He did not say this, but he thinks it.”
    I said he was wrong, and explained that I had come to collect material for a book.
    “I believe you because I see your clothing. It is foreign and most well, lamb’s wool and fine cottons. The silk shirt also. The shoes. You are fortunate the border guards did not take them.”
    “They would not rob a spy, would they?”
    “They rob everyone. Who will arrest them? No, you are foreign, from a weak nation far away.”
    I told her she was right.
    “If you escape you will return there. Could you bring with you another, perhaps?”
    “Yes,” I said. “That’s never easy but it might be possible.” It seemed to me it was the smart thing to say.
    She smiled. “This is too short an answer, you see? You must answer me much more long, and who does not know ja ? Now for you a new question. These kind border guards who did not take your clothing, did they not take also your money, and did you before they came change some into our money? Is there other wealth of you that might be drawn upon, and do you still have it? Do not look at this money, this wealth you have, before you make the answer.”
    “I won’t,” I promised. “As to the currencies about which you asked me, I have dollars from my own country and euros. What I mean by this is that I have some of each. Don’t you use euros—”
    Somebody pounded on the door. Kleon looked frightened and the girl spat like a cat. “It is Aldos, the swine-dog. You must answer our door. It will confuse him.”
    The big man who had pounded it looked confused for less than a second. After that he shouted in my face, but I could see fear in his eyes. I talked to him in German, saying I could not understand him, but that I would try if only he would talk slower and keep his voice down.
    He did not. When I backed away, he came at me. When I came at him, he backed away.
    The short man, Kleon, came to stand beside me. From his tone, I believe he must have cursed the big man. His voice was low and bitter.
    At last the big man stammered and stopped, jamming his clenched fists into the pockets of what looked like a pair of old golf pants. He was wearing an undershirt too, but his was dirty. Part of it was covered by an old wool vest.
    Behind me the girl said, “He says our chickens get into his garden. We do not have chickens.”
    Her husband nodded almost imperceptibly to that. He spoke in his cursing tone to the big man, advancing toward him, making wild gestures that almost brushed the big man’s nose. I advanced, too.
    For a minute the big man rallied, shouting louder than ever. Then he turned and stamped away.
    “I suppose somebody’s chickens must get into