‘It’s not true,’ says Malraux, ‘in the wild frigate-birds and gannets get on very well.’
‘It’s just a story,’ says Max, ‘it’s…’
‘It’s pure Goffard,’ Malraux interrupts.
The young woman:
‘As soon as you get these stories about male and female, people start making everything complicated.’
*
‘Is it only because you have doubts that you’re sulking?’ Lilstein asks you in a patient voice. ‘But doubts are vital in our line of work! And at your age it is a highly valuable commodity, can you imagine me working with a zealot? If you were a keen Frenchman brimming with the highest ideals, I wouldn’t give myself six months, too dangerous! Look, if you want to stop for a while, get some perspective, do it, doubts about what? Still think you’re a spy? Up to now I’ve been spying for you, Khrushchev and his missiles, a few years back, Khrushchev ready to give way, a hell of a tip-off, was I asked to feed it to you? Don’t be sarcastic, it’s politics, there are no free lunches, what matters is results, maybe my information did come from comrades who at the same time were urging Khrushchev to dig his heels in, knowing that he’d back down, so it would be easier to kick him out afterwards, yes, you’re right, it wasn’t a very nice game to play, you’re a clever judge of these things, maybe too clever, not a nice game at all, maybe it did happen like that, maybe not.
‘So not doubts exactly? Scruples, then? What you can’t stand is being permanently surrounded by right-wing people? And you’d like to stay left of centre, protect your scruples, the gap between your two souls is too great? Oh please, no left-wing Gaullists, there’s no future in it, let’s be serious, in the end the General will go, so stay on the right with your friend the Minister, he’ll go onwards and upwards and you’ll go with him, he’ll have to stop from time to time but he’ll go very high; if you want to reduce the gap between your two souls, the dreaming one and the doing one, go easy on the dreams, though actually you’re doing pretty well on the right wing, I know you’ve been invited to the Prime Minister’s place, in the country, a ride on a mule, eh? wonderful, go ahead, you have doubts, you sulk, your left-wing soul aches, and yet you get an invitation from the Prime Minister! See? you only have to have doubts and things happen all by themselves.
‘That said, would you mind if I give you a piece of advice? Go and ride your mule, but don’t stay on it too long, pointless tagging along with the Prime Minister, you’re not the same generation, you’d look like a callow arriviste, especially if you’re riding a mule.
‘You’re not sure they’re mules? More like big ponies? It’s all the same, riding addles the brain, I’m not being fair, but a large percentage of the people who have taken much too close an interest in me wore riding boots, so it’s time to dismount, we’ve plenty of time, see? I’m not treating you like one of my agents, I’m not telling you to do anything, I’m trying to put you on your guard, on the basis of my experience, if you really want to try something with the Prime Minister, go ahead, but believe me it’s a closely watched circle; with your friend it’s different, you’re already a part of a group which is currently being formed, it looks natural, I can tell you this because I’m fifteen years older than you, I’m into my third life, we’ve got time, if I’d used you as an agent you’d already have been blown, the active life of a top-class agent is rarely longer than ten years, because you need a network, orders, go-betweens, archives.
‘It’s different for you, there’s just me and you, and talk, like in Plato, and I try to shield you from accidents, it’s like driving, it’s not enough to observe the highway code, you must always give yourself a way of ending up in the ditch without breaking your neck, the right speed is the speed that allows you to get off the road if some road-hog comes at you head-on.
‘I know you won’t make any mistakes, young gentleman of France, but I try to protect you against the road-hogs, would you seriously prefer to have left-wing Gaullists? They won’t get very far, it would be best to stay on the right, it suits you there, make the most of its surrogate pleasures, but if you really want some left-wing fun you only have to say that basically Lenin was right when he said that the State must wither away, say it with a laugh, if you still want to, and you’ll be dancing to two tunes at the same time.
‘Don’t get close to the Prime Minister, when he’s got a cigarette in his mouth the eye above it closes almost completely, but that’s the eye he watches everything with, he knows people too well, he doesn’t like your friend, he won’t ever like you, it would be fun to get together with your friend and organise balls for him, he likes dancing, the moment there are women around the men start talking more loudly and say all sorts of things to drown out other men’s voices, I’m not opposed in principle to the role women can play in our line of work.
‘I’ll say it again: this is not about spying! We are doing an important job, together we take the pulse of what goes on, we regulate the blood pressure, it’s a noble calling, we do it with words in ears, the art of not unleashing catastrophes, that’s odd, I can’t smell our Linzer today.’
*
In Singapore, after the croquet, they went in to dinner, a round table, everyone can see everybody else without having to lean to the right or to the left, though it should be added that there is no right or left or centre any more.
‘A table after de Gaulle’s own heart,’ said Max with a laugh.
‘Over here, de Vèze,’ said Malraux, seating him on his left.
The Consul’s wife did not try to stop him. De Vèze thought his luck was in, especially when he saw that the young woman was sitting opposite him, Max, now well launched, continued:
‘Left, right, port, starboard, tacking is tactics, isn’t that a fact, you young people? Shush! don’t interrupt, art of governing, art of sailing, to move the rudder there’s a tiller that moves a half-turn, true of boats from the smallest craft to the largest caravel, so to tack right or left you reverse the directions of the tiller, you give the helmsman the command hard a-port!’ Max’s hand catches a wineglass which keels over, empty, and the boat veers to starboard. ‘It works perfectly if you’re a sailor.’
‘And equally well if you’re a Gaullist,’ says the grey diplomat.
The Consul gives him a withering look, glances up at Malraux, Malraux smiles, the Ambassador relaxes his expression, the pink diplomat looks daggers at the grey diplomat, I don’t know how often I’ve told Xavier not to overdo the right-wing cynic, it hasn’t gone down at all well, Max continues:
‘Very true, old man, the end of the Algerian War is a case in point, the General goes to Algiers, puts the tiller hard over to port, the crowd cheers, but every self-respecting sailor knew at the time that this meant tacking to the right, shush! not a word, I pick up where I left off, technical advances, pulleys, cables, reversing levers, tiller replaced by a wheel which eventually turns in the same direction as the course that has been set, all the navies of the world adopt it, steer to port now comes to mean that the wheel is turned to port to steer to port, or left if you prefer, shush! haven’t finished, the English navy, so traditional, clings to the old system, obstinately: to steer a course to starboard, the captain of Her Majesty’s ship gives the order hard a-port! and on hearing ‘port’ the helmsman turns the wheel to starboard, God save Tradition, and the ship tacks to starboard; if you’re English, it’s plain sailing, all right, there has been the odd accident involving pilots in foreign ports, it didn’t happen often, but the press got hold of it, hence the root-and-branch reform of the Royal Navy in 1933.’