In Barbaric Splendour
Nicollet lit up next to his Gregorian calendar. He put an X through the day as the sun rose. Four years earlier, he left Russia, a lone merchant headed for India. When he arrived yesterday, he called the inhabitants Indians. He felt historical, and if he had another twenty-two years, he would repeat this on another continent. He smoked next to his calendar of excess and watched the armor-plated elephants walk even slower. If he had another hundred years, he would go to France and introduce tobacco. And if he had twelve years after that, he would reform the calendar.
