The Seventh Function of Language

Kristeva does not tell him about Bourdieu, whom he hates because the sociologist threatens his entire system of representation, with which he still manages to play the swaggering dandy. She doesn’t tell him either that he shouldn’t drink too much before this week’s meeting. For a long time, she has chosen to treat him simultaneously as a child and as an adult. She doesn’t bother explaining certain things to him, but expects him to raise himself to the level she believes she has a right to demand.

The pianist plays a particularly dissonant chord. A bad omen? But Sollers believes in his lucky star. Perhaps he will go for a swim? Kristeva notices that he has already put his sandals on.

82

Two hundred galleys, two dozen galliots (those half-galleys), and six gigantic galleasses (the B-52s of their age) speed across the Mediterranean in pursuit of the Turkish fleet.

Sebastiano Venier, the irascible captain of the Venetian fleet, rages to himself: among his Spanish, Genevan, Savoyard, Neapolitan, and papal allies he thinks he is the only one who wants this battle. But he is wrong.

While the Spanish crown, in the person of Philip II, is generally uninterested in the Mediterranean, fully occupied as it is by the conquest of the New World, young Don John of Austria, the hotheaded commander of the Holy League’s fleet, illegitimate son of Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, and hence half-brother to the king, is seeking in this war the honor that his bastardy denies him elsewhere.

Sebastiano Venier wants to preserve the vital interests of La Serenissima, but Don John of Austria, fighting for his own glory, is his best ally, and he doesn’t know it.

83

Sollers contemplates the portrait of Saint Anthony in the Gesuati church and thinks that he looks like him. (Does Sollers look like Saint Anthony or Saint Anthony look like Sollers? I don’t know which way around he considers it.) He lights a blessing candle to himself and goes out for a walk in the city’s Dorsoduro quarter, which he loves so much.

Outside the Accademia, he sees Simon Herzog and Superintendent Bayard in the line.

“Dear Superintendent, what a surprise to see you here! What brings you to Venice? Ah yes, I’ve heard about the exploits of your young protégé. I can’t wait to see the next round. Yes, yes, you see, no point in keeping secrets, is there? Is this your first time in Venice? And you’ll go to the museum for some culture, I suppose. Say hello to Giorgione’s Tempest from me; it’s the only painting there worth the hassle of all those Japanese tourists. Have you noticed how they snap at everything without even looking?”

Sollers points to two Japanese men in the line, and Simon makes an imperceptible gesture of surprise. He recognizes them from the Fuego that saved his life in Paris. They are indeed armed with the latest Minoltas and are photographing everything that moves.

“Forget the Piazza San Marco. Forget Harry’s Bar. Here, you are in the heart of the city; in other words, in the heart of the world: the Dorsoduro … Venice is a convenient scapegoat, don’t you think? Ha ha … Anyway, you must absolutely go to the Campo Santo Stefano; just cross the Grand Canal … You’ll see the statue of Niccolò Tommaseo there, a political writer, therefore not of interest, known to the Venetians as Cagalibri: the book-shitter. Because of the statue. It really looks like he’s shitting books. Ha. But above all you must see the Giudecca, on the other bank. You can admire the churches designed by the great Palladio, all in a row. You don’t know Palladio? A man who did not like things to be too easy … like you, perhaps? He was in charge of constructing an edifice opposite the Piazza San Marco. Can you imagine? What a challenge, as our American friends, who have never understood art, would say … they’ve never understood women either, for that matter, but that’s another story … Anyway, there you have it: rising up from the water, San Giorgio Maggiore. And, top of the list, the Redentore, a Neoclassical masterpiece: on one side, Byzantium and the flamboyant Gothic of the past; on the other, Ancient Greece resurrected eternally by the Renaissance and the Counter-Reformation. Go and see it, it’s only a hundred yards away! If you hurry, you’ll get there for the sunset…”

Then a cry rings out in the line. “Thief! Thief!” A tourist runs after a pickpocket. Instinctively, Sollers puts his hand in his inside jacket pocket.

But he pulls himself together instantly: “Ha, did you see? A Frenchman, obviously … The French are always easily taken in. Be careful, though. The Italians are a great people, but like all great peoples they’re bandits … I should leave you, I’ll be late for Mass…”

And Sollers walks away, his sandals slapping against the Venetian cobbles.

Simon says to Bayard: “Did you see?”

“Yes, I saw.”

“He has it on him.”

“Yes.”

“So why not take him now?”

“First we have to check it works. That’s why you’re here, remember.”