Saigon by Anthony Grey Read Free Book Online Page B

their affairs. There’s a lot of discontent beneath the surface.” 
    “But what happened to all that famous French liberté, egalite and fraternité that you fought your revolution for?” asked Joseph in astonishment. “Doesn’t that apply at all out here?” 
    Paul Devraux gave a little hollow laugh but didn’t reply. Glancing up he saw the senator beckoning for his sons to join him. “I think your father wants you to meet the mandarins,” he said. “You’d better go.” 
    “But what’s the answer to my question?” 
    Paul Devraux grinned at him for a moment, then raised a cynical eyebrow. “Unfortunately, Joseph, the egalite and the fraternite get left at home. But in her colonies France reserves the right to take whatever liberties she chooses.” 

5 
    Nathaniel Sherman looked at his sons and beamed proudly as they joined the group around the governor. “May I have the pleasure, monsieur, of introducing my two sons,” boomed the senator, smiling into the wizened face of the Annamese mandarin while the governor’s aide translated for him. “My elder boy, Charles, and his young brother, Joseph. . . . Monsieur Tran Van Lung is a high official in the Ministry of Rites at the imperial court of Hue,” he added for his sons’ benefit. 
    Joseph reached forward eagerly to shake hands, but the mandarin, after a moment’s embarrassed hesitation, closed his right hand over his left fist, clasped them to his gown and bowed his head towards Chuck and Joseph in turn. Only then did the American boy notice his extraordinarily long curling fingernails, the mark of a high-ranking courtier that would have made a Western-style handshake awkward and discomfiting for both parties. Flushing to the roots of his hair, Joseph dipped his head in greeting as he realized the more circumspect Chuck had done. 
    “The Annamese never shake hands among themselves,” declared the governor as if the mandarin and his son were not listening. “Equals simply how from the waist with their arms at their sides. And the traditional form of greeting you’ve just seen” 
    — he paused and grasped his left hand loosely in his right fist in imitation of the Annamese “is employed to denote respect from an inferior to a superior.” 
    The casual offensiveness of the governor’s remarks was evident to the senator even before his aide finished his translation; he glanced sharply at the Annamese, but it was impossible to gauge their reactions from their impassive faces. “The American South where I come from is mighty proud of its good manners, messieurs,” said the senator, flashing them a smile of exaggerated charm. “But I think all of us here still have a lot to learn about civility and courteousness from your own ancient world.” 
    The old mandarin allowed his eyelids to droop fractionally in acknowledgment of the American’s compliment when it was translated but otherwise held his face expressionless. The governor, who had only half listened to the senator’s response, failed to notice the barb in the remark. Nodding absently he opened the palm of his hand to gesture towards Tran Van Lung’s sea-green gown. “You might be interested, senator, to note that this robe is a unique piece of silk. Its pattern and hues are both very rare indeed. It was given as a personal gift to Tran Van Lung by the father of the present emperor, Khai Dinh.” The governor gestured towards the Annamese as if he were a museum exhibit. “Near the hem you can see the delicately embroidered imperial dragon in gold. Beautifully worked. The world has much to thank the Chinese ancients for, don’t you agree?” 
    “Indeed I do, governor. And we also have Monsieur Tran Van Lung here to thank, do we not, for reminding us of the great and unshakable dignity of the Orient.” 
    The governor looked keenly at the American for a moment, hut encountered only the senator’s disarming smile and turned away again. “Speaking of rare things of the Orient,