The Gobi Desert Read Free Book Online Page A

heart beating, I saw a dark violet look in her eyes.
    â€˜Dear Michel, it would be a good idea to have a chat, if you want.’
    My throat was too tight for me to speak. I gave a slight nod with my head.
    She came up to me, slowly, and kissed me on the forehead, very gently, very kindly.

V
    â€˜First of all get rid of those bottles!’ she commanded. ‘It was Mme Domestici who gave them to you to bring up here, wasn’t it?’
    She had taken from my hands the bag where the tops of the bottles could be seen. She took them out from the bag and now she was looking at the labels, which said ‘
Private vintage.
’ That was all. Vintage of what? And whose vintage?
    Alzire shrugged her shoulders. ‘What rubbish they sell you nowadays passing as champagne!’ she said. She added with a sad smile: ‘Huh! But this one will always be quite good given the circumstances which it has been called upon to celebrate.’
    There was a moment of silence. She sat down next to me and took my hand. ‘Dear Michel, I know I don’t need to ask – you haven’t come up with any solution, have you? Nothing at all?’
    I had nothing to say. I just looked away.
    â€˜Nothing at all?’ she repeated.
    â€˜Later, perhaps,’ I began in a tone completely lacking in conviction. ‘But for the time being, despite my efforts which you don’t doubt, I must admit . . . . ‘
    It was her turn not to say anything. She had a folder on her knees, a nice new folder, in which just a moment ago I had seen her sorting out some papers. She began to tap the folder with her finger, a sign which meant:
    â€˜Yes, yes! Later, always later! It’s not worth going on about it my dear, I know that song . . .’
    â€˜I knew it,’ she murmured at last. ‘It couldn’t have been otherwise. I was so convinced of it that I hadn’t expected you to come back, so I kept hold of this, as you can see.’
    She half-opened the folder. A dark green paper, covered in different stamps, was just about visible. I didn’t need to look at it any longer, I guessed what it was: travel documents from a shipping company!
    I crumpled as if overwhelmed by the inevitable. ‘So you are leaving?’ I stammered in a low voice.
    â€˜Yes!’ she said. ‘Oh, but not just yet. It’s only Monday today. I’ll leave on Thursday.’
    *
    I couldn’t believe it: Mme Domestici must have known something about all this. It was Macao that Alzire was setting off for, a town, I don’t know why, which I had never heard anything good about. What was she going to do there exactly? She was hardly forthcoming on the subject, and as for me I couldn’t insist on knowing. We all have our pride. Macao is a port of call for Hong-Kong, and is a Portuguese colony which has a reputation as a place where one would never feel melancholy. It wasn’t only yesterday, I realised, that the plan had been put together. A very nice gentleman, a Dutchman I believe, and who I had not really noticed, had himself noticed Alzire. This could have been going on for a month. The gentleman in question was the manager of some sort of gambling establishment in Macao. Mme Domestici had been authorised, in the event that Alzire agreed to go there, to accept all the necessary costs. The arrears on our hotel bill, of course, by the same token, had been paid. And the generosity of this envoy from God, as we shall see, didn’t stop there.
    If anything else could have astonished me, it was unquestionably the name of the ship on which a berth had been reserved for Alzire. The
Bendigo
, would you believe it? The
Bendigo
!
    I couldn’t contain my disbelief. ‘For a man so generous, my dear, he could have chosen a somewhat more comfortable ship for you. Good heavens! I know that ship, and I can tell you . . . .’
    Alzire didn’t show any sign of disappointment. ‘You think so? Hah! Two weeks