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«
Mitterrand
was
a
bold
man
,
»
Langdon
replied
,
splitting
the
difference
.
The
late
French
president
who
had
commissioned
the
pyramid
was
said
to
have
suffered
from
a
»
Pharaoh
complex
.
»
Singlehandedly
responsible
for
filling
Paris
with
Egyptian
obelisks
,
art
,
and
artifacts
.
François
Mitterrand
had
an
affinity
for
Egyptian
culture
that
was
so
all
-
consuming
that
the
French
still
referred
to
him
as
the
Sphinx
.
«
What
is
the
captain
’
s
name
?
»
Langdon
asked
,
changing
topics
.
«
Bezu
Fache
,
»
the
driver
said
,
approaching
the
pyramid
’
s
main
entrance
.
«
We
call
him
le
Taureau
.
»
Langdon
glanced
over
at
him
,
wondering
if
every
Frenchman
had
a
mysterious
animal
epithet
.
«
You
call
your
captain
the
Bull
?
»
The
man
arched
his
eyebrows
.
«
Your
French
is
better
than
you
admit
,
Monsieur
Langdon
.
»
My
French
stinks
,
Langdon
thought
,
but
my
zodiac
iconography
is
pretty
good
.
Taurus
was
always
the
bull
.
Astrology
was
a
symbolic
constant
all
over
the
world
.
The
agent
pulled
the
car
to
a
stop
and
pointed
between
two
fountains
to
a
large
door
in
the
side
of
the
pyramid
.
«
There
is
the
entrance
.
Good
luck
,
monsieur
.
»
«
You
’
re
not
coming
?
»
«
My
orders
are
to
leave
you
here
.
I
have
other
business
to
attend
to
.
»
Langdon
heaved
a
sigh
and
climbed
out
.
It
’
s
your
circus
.
The
agent
revved
his
engine
and
sped
off
.
As
Langdon
stood
alone
and
watched
the
departing
taillights
,
he
realized
he
could
easily
reconsider
,
exit
the
courtyard
,
grab
a
taxi
,
and
head
home
to
bed
.
Something
told
him
it
was
probably
a
lousy
idea
.
As
he
moved
toward
the
mist
of
the
fountains
,
Langdon
had
the
uneasy
sense
he
was
crossing
an
imaginary
threshold
into
another
world
.
The
dreamlike
quality
of
the
evening
was
settling
around
him
again
.
Twenty
minutes
ago
he
had
been
asleep
in
his
hotel
room
.
Now
he
was
standing
in
front
of
a
transparent
pyramid
built
by
the
Sphinx
,
waiting
for
a
policeman
they
called
the
Bull
.
