translate to arbic:"Within his confined expressive boundaries, he gave me a warm welcome.
We exchanged a few pleasantries, and he asked me to take a seat at the desk,
behind the typewriter.
“Before we begin,” he said, getting some papers from a side table, “there’s
an important legal obligation we need to fulfill. You are to sign these papers.
They state, in essence, that under no circumstances may you discuss, share or
comment on any of the things that will be mentioned here. I wanted to give
you this document in person to impress on you how seriously I take this
issue. If you abide by these rules, there won’t be a thing for you to worryabout. This document will have no effect whatsoever on your life. But I fear
we’ll be unable to start if you don’t sign it.”
I signed without reading the papers. I had no choice—and, at the time, no
intention of divulging any of his secrets.
It is not unlikely that I am still bound to confidentiality by that agreement.
This particular document has not come up in my archival research into
Bevel’s papers so far. The estate’s counsel has told me that the law firm held
on retainer back then no longer exists. And this is as far as I intend to take the
matter.
“You’ve read that book by now. No need to discuss it. I know you have
come to understand, simply by having visited my workplace, that I’m a
serious businessman. We’ll talk about that at length, of course. But I’m sure
you see now how justified my anger is and how quickly we must work.
Questions.”
“None.” I knew it was unwise to ask any of the endless questions I had
about Vanner’s novel in connection with Bevel’s real life.
“Good. This is how we shall proceed. I will simply tell you my story as it
comes out. You will take it down and, when necessary, rework the sentences
to ensure the whole thing makes sense. Eliminate redundancies and
contradictions. Get the order of events straight (you know how one tends to
jump back and forth in conversation). Make sure nothing sounds too jarring
or obscure to the average reader. Perhaps add the occasional embellishment.
You know, all those little changes. Just so it reads well. I’ll provide the story,
naturally, but will leave all the small details and the tidying up to you.”
“Of course.”
Correcting his style and, in fact, writing his book were aspects of the job I
had not anticipated. Things would become clearer along the way, I decided.
“I also trust you to provide a . . . feminine touch in the passages
concerning Mrs. Bevel.”
I nodded, while still trying to find my bearings.
“And since I’ve mentioned my wife, there’s an all-important matter
regarding that novel you’ve read. Something you should never forget. As I’ve
said before, my wife never suffered from mental ailments of any kind.Mildred was a clear-sighted, serene woman. How could someone as good and
frail as her be defamed in such a way? It’s like mocking a child.” He paused
and looked first at the angle where the wall met the ceiling and then at his
hands. “And how could anyone imply that I was in any degree responsible for
her death? How could that hack writer ever conceive, let alone print, that I
would subject her to some deranged medical experiment? You must realize
how I cannot let this narrative stand.” His eyes turned to me as if to make
sure these words had been properly pinned to my mind. “It’s true that she
died in a Swiss sanatorium. But I lost her to cancer.”"