Код да Винчи

Chapter 71

           Thepageswereunintelligible.Despitebeingbeautifullypreservedandwritteninanimpeccablyneatpenmanshipcrimsoninkoncreampaperthecodexlookedlikegibberish.AtfirstLangdonthoughthecouldnotreadthembecauseDaVinciwrotehisnotebooksinanarchaicItalian.Butafterstudyingthemmoreclosely,herealizedhecouldnotidentifyasingleItalianword,orevenoneletter.

           «Trythis,sir,»whisperedthefemaledocentatthedisplaycase.Shemotionedtoahandmirroraffixedtothedisplayonachain.Langdonpickeditupandexaminedthetextinthemirror’ssurface.

           Instantlyitwasclear.

           Langdonhadbeensoeagertoperusesomeofthegreatthinker’sideasthathehadforgottenoneoftheman’snumerousartistictalentswasanabilitytowriteinamirroredscriptthatwasvirtuallyillegibletoanyoneotherthanhimself.HistoriansstilldebatedwhetherDaVinciwrotethiswaysimplytoamusehimselfortokeeppeoplefrompeeringoverhisshoulderandstealinghisideas,butthepointwasmoot.DaVincididashepleased.

           SophiesmiledinwardlytoseethatRobertunderstoodhermeaning.«Icanreadthefirstfewwords,»shesaid.«It’sEnglish.»

           Teabingwasstillsputtering.«What’sgoingon?»«Reversetext,»Langdonsaid.«Weneedamirror.»

           «Nowedon’t,»Sophiesaid.«Ibetthisveneeristhinenough.»Sheliftedtherosewoodboxuptoacanisterlightonthewallandbeganexaminingtheundersideofthelid

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