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Epilogue "Tell me , Sanch o m y friend, wha t ar e the y sayin g about me in the village here? What do the common people thin k o f me ? Wha t d o th e hidalgos? Wha t do the caballeros? What do they say of my valor, of my achievements , an d o f m y courtesy ? Ho w d o they regar d th e tas k I hav e undertake n t o reviv e and restor e t o the world th e no w forgotten orde r of chivalry?" —Quixot e In th e lat e afternoo n o f Augus t 27 , 1979 , whil e descendin g fro m th e # 1 6 trolley o n th e outskirt s o f Amsterdam , I wa s haile d i n Frenc h b y a ma n i n a tattere d jacke t leanin g o n a can e wh o introduce d himsel f a s Ric o Julie n Marie Lucien , a grea t an d persecute d write r an d a politica l an d religiou s leader o f genius. H e wa s about sixty , muc h th e worse for wear, an d ha d th e familiar fac e an d bear d o f Solzhenitsy n excep t fo r a gas h o n th e crow n o f his nose . H e carrie d hi s possession s an d clothin g i n a bucke t tha t als o served hi m a s a stool . Ha d h e spoke n t o me i n Englis h I would hav e know n better tha n t o answe r him . I n French , however , I wa s withou t guile . A Romantic wandere r betwee n colleg e an d gra d school , I wa s hel d immedi ately i n fascinatio n b y th e paranoid' s exalte d aura . France wa s sick , h e tol d me . "Le s communistes , le s socialistes, le s juif s capitalistes, e t Giscar d d'Estaing " ha d calumniate d him , sho t hi m i n th e back, an d take n awa y hi s tw o millio n francs . "O n m' a calomnie! " An d t o prove i t he pulled ou t hi s shirt-tail s an d expose d t o me hi s wound, a twiste d depression tha t wen t dee p int o th e bas e o f hi s spine . Havin g bee n s o reduced b y hi s enemies , h e wa s force d t o as k m e fo r assistance . Woul d I lend hi m 50,00 0 franc s t o b e repai d b y th e Canadia n ambassado r upo n demand? I offere d te n guilders , whic h h e too k fo r a princel y sum . H e kissed m e vehementl y o n bot h cheeks . "Viv e le s Etats-Unis ! Viv e l e Canada! Viv e l a Hollande! " h e shoute d a s i f t o a n audienc e o f admirers , pausing afte r eac h outburs t fo r m y brother , Ed , an d m e t o secon d him . 217 218 • Epilogue "Your father mus t b e very rich t o send yo u here, " he observed. "Ma y I hav e your watch?" "My father i s a bricklayer," I told him. H e was delighted. "U n magon! Yo u kno w Mauric e Chevalier? " Withou t waitin g fo r a n answe r h e started a son g an d dance , shufflin g flat-footed, singin g hoarsely . B y thi s time a doze n car s ha d pulle d u p a t th e re d light , an d th e driver s wer e looking o n wit h sympatheti c amusemen t a t wha t the y too k t o be m y predic ament . But I was absorbe d wit h th e fat e o f my interlocutor , wh o was o n hi s wa y to the Unite d State s t o be give...

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