The Gobi Desert Read online

  Alzire was granted a delay which was due to expire in just two days. But encouraged by me, for whom Vladivostok definitely had only bad memories, she decided it was pointless waiting to the last minute. This news plunged Nevelsky into floods of tears. He had wanted so much not to be separated from her until the very last moment. The following week he was due to take up his new appointment at Petropavlovsk, the capital of Kamchatka, a capital of four hundred inhabitants, all stylishly dressed in seal skin, on the dark and mysterious Bay of Avatcha. One knew this charming country, where you never see the sun, from hearsay, and could guess that this was not what one might call a promotion for Nevelsky. He had made Alzire swear that she would come and find him there as soon as possible. She had promised of course, the poor thing. What good would it have done to ruin the last moments of this unhappy man?

  During this time I had at my disposal quite a considerable sum of money, the result of a somewhat complicated financial operation. One of my friends from the penal colony – and in those circles there is often more respect given to one’s word than there is amongst people from other backgrounds – a fur exporter in civilian life, had asked me to recover a large loan which he had made to one of his colleagues in Vladivostok. I had to settle some payments to a bondholder in Dairen with this money, and then deposit the surplus in the State Bank in that city, after having deducted my own expenses, which goes without saying. I hadn’t been given a set time to complete this business, since Dairen wasn’t exactly next door. All this is to explain the favourable financial situation thanks to which we didn’t have too much difficulty, Alzire and me, in setting off on our way after having undergone the rather humiliating obligation of buying false papers.

  I shall pass over the details of all the adventures which filled our days in the course of the next eighteen months. At the end of it the money from the fur trader in Sakhalin was considerably less than it was when we started, which was understandable after so many ordeals, and we didn’t feel any shame in letting ourselves have a good time. While she was not what one might call an extravagant woman, Alzire was not averse to a bit of luxury. And I myself had learnt to appreciate it in her company. It is a taste which it is not always easy to satisfy, if on the one hand you don’t have any regular means of support, and on the other hand you experience all sorts of difficulty in finding any work.

  Discouraged by all these obstacles, I got to the stage of not looking for a job any more, and this was with a great deal of conviction, I must admit. For her part, Alzire had the tact not to bear a grudge against me as a result. We were still alive, in spite of everything. This was what was such a mystery, for me especially, a mystery which to be honest I never seriously bothered to examine closely. A strange sort of apathy increasingly took hold of me. I became indifferent to everything, everything except the fear of losing Alzire. I was ready for no matter what so that I wouldn’t have to leave her, except perhaps to work, since I had now made up my mind to accept the truth of it. I prefer not to dwell on the nature of these compromises which inevitably arise from this state of affairs. God knows if Alzire tried not to bother me with too much rough exposure to reality, with all the delicacy which she was capable of. But in the end it is nonetheless true that, however brief they may be, there are some things which have never done much to raise a man’s self-esteem. Such a situation might be unattractive, but I could perhaps have agreed to put up with it. The trouble was that I knew my self-esteem was low, and I could foresee, indeed it was my constant worry, that Alzire was beginning to get fed up with me. And it is not a good thing when the strength of your happiness depends only on what is left of the pity which a woman may have for you.

  What was most curious in all of this was that we still hadn’t had a proper talk about it. We would have to have gone back to the start of that extraordinary day when I could be seen wandering around the dockside at Fouzan. From that day, and that night, Alzire had never once ceased to be my most attentive companion. What happened didn’t take place until the early morning, at the moment when I was getting ready, on tip-toe, to open the door, then go out onto the staircase, all as surreptitiously as possible, so as to avoid what was always a disagreeable meeting with Mme Domestici. Usually at that hour Alzire was asleep. Perhaps I had been surprised, when I was aware of her in the darkness gently holding me by the arm, and troubled, as if I was already anxiously anticipating everything that was going to be said and was going to happen. Oh, of course, Alzire didn’t give way to any excessive language, that was not like her. It was in the most affectionate, and the most persuasive, tone that she had spoken, and I was careful not to interrupt her. Besides, what arguments could I have put up against hers? And what good would it have done to have persisted? I realised that her mind was made up. The extraordinary thing was that she had waited until then.

  Her reasoning could be summed up like this: ‘One mustn’t dwell on an unsuccessful experience. Just laugh it off! We’re both beginning to get on a bit. You are going to be thirty-two, dear Michel, I’m shall be twenty-six. This is the age when you have to realise that life is not just a big party, with masks, fireworks, and games. But that doesn’t stop me from having a liking for you, as you well know. I gave you proof of that when I let myself be dragged into the dock with you. Later today I shall give you some more evidence. It’s now six o’clock in the morning. You have six hours ahead of you in which to find some means of keeping me. It’s not a question of some temporary expedient, this time I mean something immediate and which is reliable – money, or some stable situation. You don’t need to be in too much of a hurry. I give you my word that I won’t make a decision before midday.’

  With that, as I tried to take her in my arms, she gently pushed me away. ‘This is for the sake of our love. Don’t waste your time.’ The opportunity had gone, and in the drab greyness of the dawn I found myself again, without really knowing how, on the landing.

  *

  It was snowing again. Very quietly, as if I was a guest, I sat down on the edge of the settee, where Alzire had shown me when I came in. I noticed her delicate profile in the mirror on the dressing-table. She still had her finger to her lips. She continued to look at me, smiling.

  I wasn’t unduly annoyed by the steady silence with which she looked at me. I had brought some good news, hadn’t I? I had no desire to say anything just yet. This was the time when the whole happiness of my life was being played out, and I had once again found the means to be full of largesse, to be the gentleman who does not concern himself with questions of money, and to cap it all to return home more than an hour late. But let’s not delude ourselves any longer! I deserved everything that was coming to me. At that moment I understood that everything was now beyond recovery, that Alzire had made her decision, once and for all, and that it was all over.

  *

  If I still had any doubt at all about this, those two blasted champagne bottles, which I clasped to my chest in a ridiculous way, wouldn’t they have given me some advance warning of the fate which was in store for me? The unseemly joy of Mme Domestici was evidence enough for me. What else could they be for if not to consecrate, or to celebrate, the imminent moment of our separation? It was snowing again, as I said. Everything around me no longer seemed to have any real shape. Sounds were also different. The pure and tender face of Alzire in the mirror seemed to be surrounded by a shimmering halo of flakes of gold.

  I let my eyes wander to the settee where I was sitting and which, together with the bed, was the only item of furniture of any significance in the room. Brocaded in a garish and pretentious pattern, it was one of the most pitiful things one could imagine, worthy of those supposedly European hotels in Manchuria, Korea, or China. It symbolised, in the most wonderful way and in the most dreadful way, the existence to which, since she had again agreed to share my destiny, I had led Alzire. Rickety tables, disconnected telephones, divans with covers spattered with suspicious stains, serviettes folded and ironed without having been washed; this was all I could off
er her. This was what she had walked into, like the ghost of a sad and shy little angel. That she became tired of it in the end was not at all surprising. What was strange, worrying almost, was that she was able to put up with it for so long.

  She continued to sit with her back to me, and I forced myself, which was not easy, not to lose sight of any of her movements. What could it be that she was so busy doing? With a fountain pen in her hand she was jotting down some figures on various sheets of paper, which she then folded into envelopes. One of these envelopes appeared to be full of banknotes. It was as if she was carrying out a liquidation, calm, quiet, unhurried. But in spite of the seriousness of the occasion, I lost interest in what she was up to. As soon as you were in the company of Alzire, it was no longer possible to pay attention to anything else except her beauty.

  Ah! I shall remember it for ever! That morning she was wearing a dress which I had given to her. If you can imagine a sort of pale pink negligee made of Chinese silk, embroidered and adorned with chinchilla on the belt, on the collar, and on the sleeves, loose-fitting sleeves which broadened out like circles of petals around the thin white ivory of her arms. As far as furs were concerned, in fairness to myself Alzire didn’t have too much to complain about. Rather than paying off the total amount of the debt which he owed, the trader in Vladivostok against whom I had a credit note as we know, was only too happy to settle with me partly in goods, on terms of price and quality which I would have searched in vain to find anywhere else. Sable, mink, blue fox, not forgetting Astrakhan stockings, muff, and cap, all this I had had enormous pleasure in displaying to Alzire’s dazzled gaze, one evening in a miserable caravanserai where we had stopped to spend the night as soon as we had crossed the frontier out of Siberia. Come hell or high water, whatever awaits us in the next life, only those who have experienced such happiness will have the right to say that they have lived here on earth!

  Those people who anticipate difficulties in paying their hotel bills always take an elementary precaution, which is to be kitted out with expensive luggage. Luxury travel bags and trunks, elegant holdalls, spotless hatboxes, sumptuous toiletries: it’s a question of inspiring confidence, isn’t it, confidence above all and in spite of everything! Our own luggage complied with this rule, of course, but it was beginning to get a bit worn, unfortunately. We realised it was essential to renew it, or at least some of it, on the day when we were due to set off again. Now what did I just get a glimpse of, on the rug? A suitcase, a splendid new suitcase in a creamy yellow colour, full to bursting, with side pockets and nice, shiny locks, everything, in a word, the best of its type. I could never have worked out how it was possible to get hold of such a perfect item in Fouzan. But it was nothing to do with such details, however important, which mattered to me at that moment. The papers which I had just seen in Alzire’s hands suddenly made sense, a sense which I could no longer mistake, even when against all the evidence I stubbornly wanted to ignore it . . . Bills paid, tickets bought for the train journey, and for the sea crossing! She was leaving. It had just been settled. We were separating. We were leaving each other.

  It was just at that moment when she chose to turn around. My heart beating, I saw a dark violet look in her eyes.

  ‘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

  ‘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.

  ‘Nothing at all?’ she repeated.

  ‘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:

  ‘Yes, yes! Later, always later! It’s not worth going on about it my dear, I know that song . . .’

  ‘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.

  ‘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 have flown by. Besides, it’s not his fault. He left me free to choose the day of my departure, and the ship at the same time. I chose the date which I thought would suit us best. But I admire you! Without seeming to, you know all about it, dear Michel. Ah! if you had taken the trouble. If you had wanted . . .

  There was a knock at the door and Mme Domestici came in. Under that awful snow-filled sky there was nothing more gloomy than her Spanish shawl with its red and yellow flowers. And what sort of oil had the old dear put on herself to make her hair shine?

  ‘I’m not too early am I?’ she said in a simpering tone. ‘Look what I’ve brought you! Some champagne glasses. A young couple is often in need of some little things. I know what it’s like.’

  ‘You’re very kind’ said Alzire. ‘Michel, help Mme Domestici.’

  I would rather have thrown her champagne glasses in the old witch’s face! Nonetheless I obeyed, with all the eagerness that one can imagine. I set about the task of opening one of the bottles, equally unhurriedly, I can assure you. I was beginning to have enough astonishment, witho
ut having had any champagne. If anyone had told me that, a few hours earlier! . . . . What a day, yes, what a strange day it was turning out to be!

  ‘Well dear, I suppose you’re happy,’ said Mme Domestici to Alzire, her eyes shining and her lips moist. ‘Well, that’s life! One day everything is black, the next day all is well. You think all is lost, then everything becomes clear. And you, Mr Michel? Are you a little bit sad? That goes without saying. But you shouldn’t be, you really shouldn’t! This is only a temporary separation, and a necessary one. What she is doing, the dear girl, is in the interests of both of you.’

  I didn’t bother to reply. I turned my back on her and went to the window. My nose against the window pane, I looked down onto the street, indifferent to what I saw. But it was better like that. Such a dreary spectacle, just what I needed to cheer up a miserable and aimless soul like mine! For those who drag around with them an excess of gaiety, I recommend a little winter stay in Fouzan. They will soon get rid of their baggage there. The fumes from the port hung over the dark black sea. The skeletal Korean children, in their pathetic white tee-shirts, were arguing in the mud over a nameless piece of refuse with some dogs which were in an equally bad way as themselves. This picturesque scene was completed by some lepers who passed by from time to time, their rattles in their hands. There was one of them who looked up and saw me. He smiled at me, with his awful mouth eaten away. I couldn’t stand it anymore, and drew the curtain.