After the Circus by Patrick Modiano Read Free Book Online Page A

the dog, after that, had a house near Saint-Leu and an apartment in Paris. They had brought the dog back to Paris for her today.
    I wondered if I should believe her. These explanations sounded at once too extensive and incomplete, as if she were trying to bury the truth under a wealth of detail. Why had she stayedthere for an hour if it was just to pick up her dog? And why hadn’t she let me come with her? Who were these people?
    I sensed it wasn’t worth asking. I had only known her for forty-eight hours. It would just take a few days of intimacy for the barriers between us to crumble. Pretty soon, I’d know everything.
    We stopped in front of the building on Rue Raffet and crossed the courtyard. She hadn’t put the leash on the dog, but he followed us obediently. It was Martine, the blonde girl, who opened the door for us. She kissed Gisèle on the cheeks. Then she kissed me, too. I was startled by the familiarity.
    Ansart and Jacques de Bavière were both sitting on the couch, looking at photographic enlargements, some of which were scattered on the rug at their feet. They didn’t seem surprised to see us. The dog hopped onto the couch and was all over them.
    â€œSo, are you happy to get your dog back?” said Jacques de Bavière.
    â€œVery.”
    Ansart shuffled together the photos and set them on the coffee table.
    â€œAny problems with the car?” asked Jacques de Bavière.
    â€œNot a one.”
    â€œHave a seat for two minutes. Take a load off,” Ansart said with his slightly blue-collar accent.
    We sat in the armchairs. The dog went to lie down at Gisèle’s feet. Martine sat on the floor, between Jacques de Bavière and Ansart, her back resting against the front of the couch.
    â€œI was wondering if we could hold on to the car a while longer,” said Gisèle.
    Jacques de Bavière smiled sarcastically.
    â€œOf course. Keep it as long as you like.”
    â€œOn just one condition …” said Ansart.
    He raised his finger to ask for our attention. With his face split by a smile, it was as if he was going to tell a good joke.
    â€œOn condition that you do me a favor …”
    He took a cigarette from the pack on the coffeetable, then lit it nervously with a lighter. He looked me straight in the eye, as if I was the one he was addressing and Gisèle was already more or less in the know.
    â€œSo … It’s very simple … You just have to deliver a message for me …”
    Jacques de Bavière and Martine stared at the dog, which remained in its sphinxlike position at Gisèle’s feet, but I had the feeling it was mainly to keep from looking awkward and not meet my gaze. Perhaps they were afraid I’d be shocked by Ansart’s offer.
    â€œIt’s nothing very complicated … Tomorrow afternoon, you’ll go into a café—I’ll tell you the one … You’ll wait for this fellow to come in …”
    He picked up one of the photos on the coffee table and showed it to us from where he sat. The face of a dark-haired man in his forties. Gisèle didn’t seem very surprised by this proposal, but Ansart had surely noticed my distrust. He leaned toward me:
    â€œDon’t worry. It’s the most ordinary thing in the world … This man is a business relation ofmine … When he’s settled at his table, one of you will go up to him and just say: ‘Pierre Ansart is waiting for you in the car on the corner …’”
    He smiled again, with a large, childlike smile. His face certainly radiated candor.
    I would have liked to know what Gisèle thought of all this. She had leaned forward and picked up the print that Ansart had laid back on the coffee table. We both studied it. It looked like a blow-up of an ID photo. A face with regular features. Dark hair brushed back. Bare forehead.
    Martine and Jacques de Bavière also looked at the other photos, which showed the