"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 09 - Mayenne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

"At least it is an interesting philosophy."

"I like my comforts," said Chom. He lowered his empty glass. "The trouble is in
being able to afford them. More often than not it isn't easy."

Daroca refilled his glass. "And you, Earl? Do you also enjoy comfort?"

"He's had too much of the rough not to enjoy the smooth," said Chom before
Dumarest could answer. "I can tell these things. There is a look about a man who
has lived hard, a set of the lips, the jaw, an expression in the eyes. The way he walks
and stands, little things, but betraying. As there is with a woman," he continued,
musingly. "You can tell the one who is willing and the one who is not. The one who
is seeking and the one who has found." He took a mouthful of wine. "What did you
think of the Ghenka?"

"She has skill." Daroca glanced at Dumarest, "More wine?"
 "Later, perhaps."

"Is the vintage not to your liking?"

"It is too good to be hurried."

"As is interesting conversation. I contend that intelligent discourse is the hallmark
of civilized man. As yet I have found no evidence to shake my conviction, but plenty
to uphold it. You are satisfied with the wine, Chom?"

The plump man dabbed at his lips, his second glass almost empty. If he caught
the irony he gave no sign of it. Instead he said, "She is more than skilled. The
Ghenka, I mean. She is a true artist. Did you know that it takes twenty years to train
such a one? The voice has to reach full maturity and they begin learning as soon as
they can talk. Twenty years," he brooded. "A lifetime. But with such a woman what
more could a man want?"

"A place of his own, perhaps," said Daroca softly. "A home. Children to bear his
name and continue his line. Some men are not so easily satisfied, as I am sure Earl
would agree. The mood of a moment does not last. It holds within itself the seeds of
its own destruction. Passion is a flame which devours what it feeds on. The
satisfaction of conquest, of possession, fades to be replaced by new aims. The
happy man is the one who finds contentment with what he has."

Dumarest made no comment, sitting back in his chair, watching, savoring the
wine. He was curious as to why Daroca should have wanted his company.
Boredom, perhaps, but that was too facile an answer. The salon held others to
whom he could have given his wine. An audience, then, someone to listen while he
spoke? But why the crude and grossly coarse entrepreneur? Why himself?

Caution pricked its warning and yet the man seemed harmless enough, even
though it was obvious he had arranged the meeting. And even if he weren't harmless
there might be information to be gained. It was barely possible that he knew
something of Earth and, if he did, the time would be well spent.