The Gobi Desert (6 page)

At about ten o'clock in the evening – one dines very late in Fouzan – wearing the smart grey suit in question, I walked into the bar at the Myako. I had made up a random pretext to arrive a few minutes before Alzire. The first person I should bump into was Jack Sanders, of course.

‘Michel, my dear boy,' he roared. ‘What a stroke of luck! This calls for a drink, toot sweet! Barman, another bottle of champagne. Michel, dear chap, did you get the books I sent you?'

‘I received them, Mr Sanders, thank you. But at the moment I have something else on my mind. A young lady is coming, who will be dining with me. It's possible I will have to introduce you to each other. A young lady who . . . A young lady that . . . ‘

Sanders burst out laughing. ‘I understand, you old joker. I'm not as stupid as you think. And so tell me, how can I be of service to you?'

‘Just this,' I said, wiping my brow. ‘For reasons which I won't bore you with explaining, I have told the lady in question that in three days time I am going on a tiger hunt with you. I would ask you not to contradict me. There. That's all.'

I had expected that he would burst out into laughter again. He did nothing, just looked at me oddly. Then with a sudden seriousness he said ‘That's all? Agreed! You can count on me. Besides, it's up to you whether it's true or not, my boy.'

*

Just at that moment, in the grand illuminated hall, Alzire entered, half-naked in her golden brown silk dress, adorned with green embroidery. She came in, smiling, shy and a bit weary. She left in her wake such a voluptuous trail that men and women, laughing and chatting, suddenly fell silent.

I seized Sanders by the hand. ‘That's her!' I said, hardly able to speak. And I added, as if mad with pride, ‘Tell me, what do you think of her? She's very beautiful, isn't she?'

‘Very beautiful,' he said.

Leaning on the arm-rests of his leather armchair, he stood up. He seemed to be trembling slightly.

‘Yes, very beautiful', he repeated, looking at me with an indefinable expression.

And I thought I could see in his eyes a sort of pity.

‘So my friend, it's true then? Tell me honestly, you don't regret being here?'

‘Mr Sanders, how can you think that? After all your kindness over the past month! Do I have to give you my word?'

I was being sincere, I would have given my word willingly. How was it then that there was no enthusiasm in my voice? The obsession, the feeling of homesickness, Alzire's sadness perhaps . . . Sanders looked at me askance.

‘Too bad for you', he said with a sudden harshness. ‘It's too bad for you if you're lying! I haven't taken you by surprise. You only had not to sign the agreement which is now all sown up. For now, if I have a piece of advice to give you, it's in your interest to honour it as best you can.'

What had got into him? He who never had any self-doubt, or doubt about anything, what was this sudden crisis of mistrust? Where had it come from? From the landscape I think, the spectacular and yet gloomy landscape which we were passing through. Behind our junk the river water swirled, only to resettle, smooth and flat, like the sad waters of Erebus on whose surface no star ever managed to shine.

We could see these stars in the sky above, but there were fewer and fewer of them, as the massive sides of the mountains through which we were navigating came closer and closer together. Already we could no longer make out the scrawny birds which screeched above our heads. There are some places and some occasions when you wonder if daylight will ever return.

Sanders sniggered. ‘It's nice countryside', he said ‘And you had better believe that this is just the beginning!'

At that, for a puritan from New South Wales, he made the most peculiar gesture: he made the sign of the cross.

*

What a strange man! In equal measure rough and coarse as he usually was on the docks at Fouzan. And then suddenly, unexpectedly, humane, considerate, almost sensitive. ‘It's up to you whether it's true or not!' was what he had said to me when I had asked him not to contradict me if we got to talking about this tiger hunt when I had said I was going to go with him. Surprised by the sound of his voice, I looked at him. He was serious, and not joking. So the offer he had made to me that morning was not just empty words. But I hadn't had the chance to clarify the point any further. Just at that moment, as we know, Alzire had come in.

‘What did you think of him?' I asked Alzire after I had introduced them to each other. ‘He seems a good fellow, don't you think?'

‘A good fellow, perhaps!' she replied, with a little amused laugh. ‘But as far as refinement goes you must admit one could think of some who are better!'

Lowering her voice she added: ‘In any case, if I have any advice to give you, it is not to sign anything without careful consideration.'

Sanders had been sitting alone, waiting for his guests, at a table which had been set for three. Out of shyness he hadn't wanted to ask us to join them. So much the better then! We would have felt obliged to accept, and that would have meant goodbye to the cosy evening which Alzire and I had been so much looking forward to.

His guests were not late in arriving. They were two of my new acquaintances from that morning: Otto Streep, his assistant, and Captain Lucas.

Lucas didn't notice me at first, but he noticed Alzire all right, and greeted her with a smile.

‘Do you know that gentleman?' I asked her.

‘There's nothing strange about me knowing the second-in-command of the ship which I shall be boarding on Thursday,' she replied. ‘In addition to which, I should point out to you that he has gone to great lengths to see that I am comfortably settled in that old boat. If we get the chance in a moment to have few words, don't forget to express your gratitude to him.'

With that we happily decided what we were going to eat, and dined with a cheerfulness which was abruptly interrupted only when we thought of our impending separation. We stopped joking and laughing. We held hands tightly under the tablecloth. In three days we were going to have to let go of each other, but for how long?

*

‘Who is that man with your friend and the captain?' asked Alzire, after the caviar and the vodka.

‘His name is Otto Streep, and he is Jack Sanders' authorised representative,
'
I replied. ‘I think you will be travelling with him. He is responsible for transporting on the
Bendigo
the merchandise belonging to his boss.'

And without thinking it necessary to say any more for the moment about the nature of the merchandise in question, I told her about the way in which we had met each other that morning, about Sanders' challenge, the gunshot, and the little green feather from Streep's felt hat fluttering down across the bar to finally end up on a shelf.

Alzire was amused and laughed. ‘All the same,' she couldn't restrain herself from saying, ‘so that's how you were spending your time, while I imagined you were busy looking for a way in which we could get out of this mess!'

‘In fact I didn't do too badly . . . . .' I began.

She shook her head with a sad smile. ‘Some way or other so we wouldn't have to separate,' she said in a gentle tone of reproach. ‘That's what I meant, and I hoped you would have understood.'

From every corner of the room, people were looking at us; by
us,
I mean Alzire of course, her ambivalent and cruel beauty, her dark eyes, her jet-black hair. I had already seen, and I shall see many other women, for my troubles, and if God wishes, as a means of redemption. What I shall never see again, alas! is the carnal and indolent halo which made both men and women spin with desire around her, the vague frisson, the feverish authority which she imposed on all those in her circle. But there was one person, as we shall see, who wasn't completely of the same type as the others and, as we shall also see, who was an exception to this rule, a triumph however which for a long time did not turn out to be to his advantage.

To get back to Otto Streep, one couldn't say that it was an irresistible sympathy which had straightaway brought us together. He was constantly, furtively, looking at me, throughout the meal! Which was surprising, given the manner, which I had thought to be quite witty, of making his acquaintance that morning! Just think, a bullet had passed by no more than two or three centimetres from his skull. Nevertheless, he had smiled at this excellent joke. I didn't see him begin to frown until a moment later when he was in a position to notice on what terms I already was with my boss. The influence which he alone could have over Sanders, that was evidently the source of this fellow's livelihood.

A man of rather average height, and a sallow complexion, as I've said. If my bullet had been fired a little bit lower, it wouldn't have risked taking off much of his hair. Having said that, he was very hirsute individual. He was one of those unfortunate people who could shave themselves ten times a day. Their beard seems to grow as you watch, as quickly as on a corpse, making the cheeks look green or blue. On Streep, whose cheeks were the colour of beef stroganoff and peach melba, the hair made his cheeks seem darker between each dish.

After dinner, as the first couples began to dance and weave their way between the tables, Sanders, who appeared to be constantly awkward and deep in thought, sent Captain Lucas over to us. He wanted us to join them and finish off a few more bottles of champagne. I couldn't be bothered, but Alzire prompted me to accept.

‘You can't do otherwise!' she muttered.

*

People only had eyes for her of course, as she crossed the room with an elegant and graceful style. She was really the sort of woman who if you were standing next to her you would have little chance of being noticed.

Captain Lucas was charming towards her. Streep looked at her without saying a word, hardly able to take his eyes off her. At first I tried to start up a conversation with him, to see if he still bore a grudge against me after my misdemeanour that morning. It wasn't that I particularly wanted to be in his good books. But he was going to be sailing on the same ship as Alzire, and I wanted as much as possible that she should not be subjected to any bad feeling which had nothing to do with her.

As for Sanders, he had monopolised his bottle of champagne, which he had insisted on opening himself.

‘Now then dear sir,' Alzire said straightaway, ‘Is it true then that you are taking Michel away from me, to take him hunting God knows where? It's a mark of real friendship that I'm showing you, in trusting him to you. Try to bring him back to me in one piece! And try also to prevent him doing anything stupid, won't you? I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. You men, I understand you very well! You won't be chasing after your tigers all the time. In the towns which you will be passing through, you will be sure to find a different sort of prey. I implore you not to give him too much opportunity.'

Sanders jumped at these kind remarks. He glanced furtively at Streep. Evidently, he had not told his assistant about our project. But he had had so little time up until now. And it was a project still very much up in the air.

Nonetheless it was clear that he would be much more at his ease when faced with big cats than with women. He turned his attention away from Streep, who received this news without a murmur, and switched his gaze again on Alzire.

‘Don't worry dear lady!' he replied in his rough voice which he tried in vain to soften. ‘There's nothing to worry about, as far as I can see. And besides, something tells me your little friend was quick enough to prefer the fauna of the desert than what you're talking about. If he's not grown up enough at his age to look after his own salvation, then with the greatest of respect it is hardly worth anyone else bothering about him.'

*

I was deep in thought, going over the details of that evening, as our junk penetrated into the gigantic corridor between the mountains. We could just make out their gloomy outline, which merged with the sky as the sky itself became darker. We were both sitting at the rear of the vessel, Sanders smoking his long pipe. Another man, a sort of silent giant, was standing behind us, braced up against the helm. A coal fire was burning at our feet, underneath an iron cooking pot. We held out our hands over the fire to warm ourselves.

It was already twelve long days that we had been sailing up this river, which was a tributary of one of the tributaries of the Hoang-Ho. At first it had been a vast sea of calm water, where we could hardly make out the shore. Then bit by bit we began to discern mountains, then trees, then houses, then people. Now, some days later, people and houses had disappeared again. Oaks and young beech trees had become transformed into dark forests of pines and firs. Rapids surged down the river, against which we had to struggle day and night. One could say that the sailors on our two junks were earning their money, as was the crew of the motor launch which was serving as a tug-boat.

‘What day is it?' asked Sanders. ‘You lose track of time on this sort of trip.'

‘Friday,' I replied.

‘Friday? So it's payday tomorrow, right? We'll try and tie up in a bay somewhere, restock our supply of wood and buy whatever we can, if we come across another village. You can take the opportunity to settle up with everybody here, on the junks and the motor launch. Have you got enough money?'

‘You are joking, Mr Sanders', I muttered in a reproachful tone of voice.

He gestured as if excusing himself from having irritated me, and didn't pursue the matter.

‘What's the matter with you?' he said a moment later, seeing me give myself a slap on the cheek.

‘These mosquitos!' I said, ‘damned mosquitos!'

He sniggered quietly. ‘Don't complain! Whoever talks about mosquitos is talking about water. You have to choose, in this cursed country. When you have been deprived of one, after five or six days, you will begin to miss the other, my friend.'

Strange shapes appeared and disappeared in our wake, lit up in the light of the moon; snakes, no doubt, or turtles. There was one of those creatures which suddenly emerged three or four metres from us, with a whiskery face and a moustache, like an old man . . . Some sort of sea-cow!

‘I suppose actually,' said Sanders, ‘that there is a good third of animals in existence which have never been categorised in the catalogues of those stupid scientists.'

As if talking to himself he added: ‘Besides, it's much better like that! If it wasn't so, you and I would have to turn back straightaway, wouldn't we? . . . . . What's the matter? What's up with you now?'

I had suddenly taken hold of his hand.

‘
Ahong! Ahong!'

I gripped Sanders' hand more tightly. ‘That sound!' I stammered. ‘Did you hear it? It's him, isn't it? It's him?'

‘Ahong! Ahong!'

My companion slowly took his pipe out of his mouth. He was quiet, listening. On the opposite bank, the dull, majestic, echo was repeated:

‘Ahong! Ahong!'

I shuddered. In the hold, at the front of the boat, a dreadful moan could be heard: one of our sheep was bleating in terror.

‘It's him all right, isn't it?' I persisted, forcing myself to keep calm, trying to familiarise myself with it, the voice, the same terrifying voice that we had heard in the port at Fouzan three weeks earlier.

‘It's him all right,' said Sanders. Again the sound rang out. A red star was shining. It was Sanders, who had just drawn on his pipe. I heard him mumble with a slight disdain:

‘It's one of them, at any rate! But not the type which we need. It's as big as our Mikado, at the very most.'

After a moment's reflection he added: ‘Do you want to get a better idea of it? That sheep that was bleating a moment ago. Well, between the sound of that bleating and the cry of the beast you just heard, there has to be the same distance between that latter cry and that of the nice little animal that we are looking for. Do you understand? Very good! I hope you're not regretting anything, are you?'