The Comedians

'It might be arranged,' the Minister said, 'there are sites available.' He was making a whole row of little crosses on his sheet, all plus-signs. 'You have plenty of funds, I am sure.'

'I thought a mutual project with the Government …'

'Of course you realize, Mr Smith, we are not a socialist state. We believe in free enterprise. The building would have to be put up to tender.'

'Fair

enough.'

'Of course the Government would make the final decision between the tenders. It is not a mere matter of the lowest bid. There are the amenities of Duvalierville to be considered. And of course questions of sanitation are of first importance. For that reason I think the project might well come in the first place under the Ministry for Social Welfare.'

'Fine,' Mr Smith said. 'Then I would be dealing with you.'

'Later of course we would have to have discussions with the Treasury. And the Customs. Imports, of course, are the responsibility of the Customs!

'Surely there are no duties here on food?'

'Films

…'

'Educational

films?'

'Oh well, let us talk about all that later. There is first the question of the site. And its cost.'

'Don't you think the Government might be inclined to contribute the site? In view of our investment in labour. I guess land here doesn't fetch a high price anyway.'

'The land belongs to the people, not the Government, Mr Smith,' the Minister said with gentle reproof. 'All the same you will find nothing is impossible in modern Haiti. I would myself suggest, if my opinion is asked, a contribution for the site equivalent to the cost of construction …'

'But that's absurd,' Mr Smith said, 'the two costs bear no relation!

'Returnable, of course, on completion of the work.'

'So you mean the site would be free?'

'Quite

free.'

'Then I don't see the point of the contribution.'

'To protect the workers, Mr Smith. Many foreign projects have come suddenly to an end, and the worker on pay day has found nothing in his envelope. A tragic thing for a poor family. We still have many poor families in Haiti.'

'Perhaps a bank guarantee …'

'Cash is a better notion, Mr Smith. The gourde has remained stable for a generation, but there are pressures on the dollar.'

'I would have to write home to my committee. I doubt …'

'Write home, Mr Smith, and say that the Government welcomes all progressive projects and will do all it can.' He rose from behind his desk to signify that the interview was at an end, and his wide toothy smile showed that he expected it to be beneficial to all parties. He even put his arm around Mr Smith's shoulders to demonstrate that they were partners in the great work of progress.

'And the site?'

'You will have a great choice of sites, Mr Smith. Perhaps close to the cathedral? Or the college? Or the theatre? Anything which does not conflict with the amenities of Duvalierville. Such a beautiful city. You will see. I will show it to you myself. Tomorrow I am very busy. So many deputations. You know how it is in a democracy. ButThursday …'

In the car Mr Smith said, 'He seemed interested all right.'

'I would be careful about that contribution.'

'It's

returnable.'

'Only when the building's completed.'

'His story about the bricks in the coffin. Do you suppose there's something in that?'

'No.'

'After all,' Mr Smith said, 'none of us have actually seen Doctor Philipot's body. One mustn't judge hastily.'

2

For some days after my visit to the embassy I heard nothing from Martha, and I was worried. I played the scene over and over again in my mind, trying to judge whether any irrevocable words had been spoken, but I remembered none. I was relieved, but angered too, by her short untender note when it came at last: Angel was better, the pain was over, she could meet me, if I wished, by the statue. I went to the rendezvous and found nothing changed. But even in the lack of change and in her tenderness, I found cause for resentment. Oh yes, she was ready to make love now in her own good time … I said, 'We can't live in a car.'

She said, 'I've been thinking a lot about that too. We shall ruin ourselves with secrecy. I will come to the Trianon - if we can avoid your guests.'

'The Smiths will be in bed by this time.'

'We'd better take both cars in case … I can say I've brought you a message from my husband. An invitation. Something of the sort. You go first. I'll give you five minutes.' I had expected a night of argument, and then suddenly the door which I had pushed against so often before flew open. I walked through and found only disappointment. I thought: She thinks quicker than I do. She knows the ropes.

The Smiths surprised me when I reached the hotel by their audible presence. There was a clatter of spoons and the clinking of tins and a gentle punctuation of voices. They had taken over the verandah tonight for their evening Yeastrel and Barmene. I had wondered sometimes what they spoke about together when they were alone. Did they re-fight old campaigns? I parked the car and stood awhile and listened before I mounted the steps. I heard Mr Smith say, 'You've put in two spoonfuls already, dear.'

'Oh no. I'm sure I haven't.'

'Just try it first and you'll see.'

From the silence that followed I gathered he was right.

'I have often wondered,' Mr Smith said, 'what happened to that poor man who was asleep in the pool. Our first night. Do you remember, dear?'

'Of course I remember. And I wish I had gone down as I wanted to at the time,' Mrs Smith said. 'I asked Joseph next day, but I think he lied to me.'

'Not lied, dear. He didn't understand.'

I walked up the stairs and they greeted me. 'Not in bed yet?' I asked rather stupidly.

'Mr Smith had to catch up with his mail.'

I wondered how I could shift them from the verandah before Martha arrived. I said, 'You mustn't be too late. The Minister is taking us to Duvalierville tomorrow. We start early.'

'That's all right,' Mr Smith said. 'My wife will stay behind. I don't want her bumped along the roads in the sun.'

'I can stand it quite as well as you can.'

'I

have to stand it, dear. For you there's no necessity. It will give you a chance to catch up on your lessons in Hugo.'

'But you need your sleep too,'I said.

'I can do with very little, Mr Brown. You remember, dear, that second night in Nashville …'

I had noticed how Nashville came back often to their common memory: perhaps because it was the most glorious of their campaigns.

'Do you know whom I saw in town today?' Mr Smith asked.

'No.'

'Mr Jones. He was coming out of the palace with a very fat man in uniform. The guard saluted. Of course I don't suppose they were saluting Mr Jones.'

'He seems to be doing pretty well,' I said. 'From prison to palace. It's almost better than log-cabin to White House.'

'I have always felt that Mr Jones has great character. I'm very glad he's prospering.'

'If it's not at someone else's expense.'

At even that hint of criticism Mr Smith's expression slammed shut (he stirred his Yeastrel nervously to and fro) and I was seriously tempted to tell him of the telegram sent to the captain of the Medea. Wasn't it possibly a flaw in character to believe so passionately in the integrity of all the world?

I was saved by the sound of a car, and a moment later Martha came up the steps.

'Why, it's that charming Mrs Pineda,' Mr Smith exclaimed with relief. He rose and busied himself arranging a seat. Martha looked at me with despair and said, 'It's late. I can't stop. I've just brought a message from my husband …' She produced an envelope from her bag and pushed it into my hand.