Part 12 (1/2)

2.

On the afternoon of the tennis final Captain Paul Devraux had exchanged his military uniform for a civilian suit of white duck and a soft hat of the same color and Jose ph had difficulty picking him out among the similarly clad crowd of French colons thronging the trim lawns and terraces of the Cercle Sportif. The club, set in tree-shaded parkland adjoining the grounds of the governor general's grandiose marble palace, was normally the preserve of the white colonial elite, but for the occasion of the tennis champions.h.i.+p its normal regulations had been relaxed to admit non- members. Even so, as Joseph searched for Paul among the crowds he noticed that the young Asians present were well mannered and well dressed, obviously the offspring of wealthy Annamese and Chinese families.

The wives and daughters of the French members all wore cool white dresses and carried white sun hats or parasols to protect their pale complexions from the glare of the hot afternoon sun, and as he moved among them Joseph found himself wondering if they were dressed in accordance with some unwritten club rule to distinguish themselves more emphatically, from the golden- skinned Annamese girls in their gaily colored ao dai. In his efforts to find Paul he had to peer beneath the brims-of sun helmets and felt hats worn by the Frenchmen, and in the end the grinning officer spotted him first.

”I'm glad to see, Joseph, that you're paying close attention to the fact that Saigon society has now become thoroughly democratic,” he said, arching an ironic eyebrow and glancing at the crowd around them.

Although racially mixed, the gathering was still preponderantly white and privileged, and the American acknowledged his wry wit with a smile. ”As much as looking for you I was trying to get a sneak preview of the dazzling oriental creature who's head over heels in love with you.” He scanned the faces of several Annamese girls standing shyly nearby with escorts of their own race. ”Where is she?” - ”Wait a minute, mon vieux, not so fast.” Paul smiled and laid a cautionary hand on his arm. ”That's putting it a bit high. Perhaps I was too hasty last night. I didn't say her heart was conquered and won beyond dispute. Momma and Poppa, as you would say, still have a big say in who their children marry here. Her father likes me, I think - he's very pro-French. But the idea may not even have entered her head yet. All I said was it had entered mine.

Courts.h.i.+p here still follows rigid rules of procedure - and the chaperon barrier still has to be broken down. Her mother always comes too, so far - or a friend.” Paul touched Joseph's arm gently to draw his attention to a young Asian couple in their early twenties moving through the crowd towards them. ”Or in this case, her brother.”

Joseph glanced up to see a slender girl in a high-necked ao dai of pale turquoise silk walking demurely beside an Annamese dressed in European style. She carried a cone-shaped hat of plaited palm leaf and wore her long hair dressed tight at the nape of her neck in a simple clip that allowed it to be drawn in front of her left shoulder in a glossy black torrent. Even at a distance, the striking beauty of her golden face was apparent to the American, and a little murmur of admiration escaped his lips. ”You weren't exaggerating, Paul,” he whispered appreciatively before the couple came within earshot. ”She's lovely.”

Paul obviously pleased, stepped forward smiling warmly. Raising the girl's hand to his lips, he murmured a compliment in French, then shook her brother cordially by the hand. ”May I introduce Joseph Sherman, a good friend of mine from the United States of America.” He spoke in French, smiling into the girl's eyes, then turned back to Joseph: ”This is Tran Thi Kieu Lan and her brother Tran Van Tam.”

”Enchante, mademoiselle.” Her fingers were as small and fragile as a schoolgirl's in Joseph's grasp, and his own hand seemed suddenly elephantine in comparison. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, either dusted faintly with rouge or from her own natural coloring, but otherwise, unlike the French women all around them, she wore no other makeup and the freshness and innocence of her young face caused Joseph to stare for a moment longer than he should have, and she dropped her gaze. In his anxiety to make amends he seized her brother's hand with extra effusiveness. ”Congratulations, Monsieur Tam, on reaching the final!” he cried jovially, clasping the elbow of the Annamese as he shook his hand. ”I wish you good luck for this afternoon's match.”

”Unfortunately there's no chance at all of my winning,” replied Tam, giggling loudly. ”It's my younger brother, Kim, who is the tennis player, not me. He'll be here in a moment - he's parking our car.”

Tam's sister and Paul joined in the general laughter, to Joseph's discomfort, but after a moment's embarra.s.sment the American suddenly stopped and stared at them with an astonished expression. ”Did you say your brother's name is Kim?”

The Annamese nodded, still giggling ”Then if you are Tran Van Tam He paused and turned to the still smiling girl. ”. . . and if you are Kieu Lan, your father must be Monsieur Tran Van Hieu, the Imperial Delegate.”

The Annamese girl nodded again, smiling at him in mystification.

”Then we have all met before! Don't you remember the day your baby gibbon almost broke the governor's vase?”

The smile faded slowly from Lan's face and she raised a hand to her mouth as realization dawned. ”You were the American boy who brought the gibbon back for us?”

Joseph nodded delightedly. ”Yes. You were just a little girl then.”

Paul slapped Joseph on the shoulder and roared with laughter. ”Bon Dieu! Of course! How did I ever forget your monkey-saving antics - the hunter who preferred to use a Ming vase to capture his trophies live, rather than a gun.”

They all laughed again, but when the laughter subsided it was Lan who spoke. ”It perhaps seems funny now, Monsieur Sherman, but at the time our father was very angry. We were scolded severely and made to kneel with our backs straight for more than an hour. My father often said if it hadn't been for the young American saving the vase, our punishment might have been much worse - so you see, we're very grateful for what you did for those three unruly children At that moment another young Annamese appeared behind them, carrying a hand case and a tennis racquet in a press. Of slighter build than the pudgy, overweight Tam, his face was set in a surly expression, almost a scowl, and he shook hands with Paul without cordiality.

”Kim, who do you think this is?” asked Tam in an excited voice, gesturing towards Joseph.

The younger Annamese looked Joseph up and down quickly, still without smiling, and shrugged. ”I don't know. Who is it?”

”It's Joseph Sherman, the son of Senator Sherman, remember - the American who rescued the baby gibbon you smuggled into the grounds of the governor's palace. Now's your chance to thank him.”

Kim studied Joseph's face intently for a moment, then offered his hand with exaggerated courtesy. ”Without your intervention, Monsieur Sherman, I'm sure the governor's precious vase would have been smashed beyond repair - and I, my father and my whole family would have been banished to the dark dungeons of Paulo Condore for the rest of our natural lives.” The glittering smile that flashed across the face of the Annamese did nothing to soften his sarcastic tone. ”If it hadn't been for you, perhaps, we should still be there now and today's match and this reunion would not have been possible.”

Tam shot an uneasy glance at Paul and forced a laugh. ”The meeting might well have been possible, Kim - we would certainly have been released in the amnesty. The first boat sailed into Saigon last night, didn't it? And another is due tonight.” He laughed uneasily again, watching Paul's face as he (lid so. ”So everything would have been all right in the end.”

Paul laughed politely in return and patted Tam's shoulder, but Kim's face remained set in unsmiling lines. Without looking at the French officer he inclined his head once more in Joseph's direction. ”So thank you again, monsieur. Now if you will excuse roe, I must go and get changed for the match. Au revoir.” Without acknowledging the French officer, he turned on his heel and walked away in the direction of the dressing room.

”I must apologize, Monsieur Sherman, for my brother's strange sense of humor,” said Lan quietly as soon as her brother had gone. ”He sometimes speaks without considering carefully what he says. And I think he's very tense today. This match is very important to him.”

Moved by her troubled expression, Joseph smiled rea.s.suringly. ”There's no need to apologize at all, Lan. I understand perfectly.”

”Like me, Monsieur Sherman. my brother enjoyed the great privilege of an education in Paris,” explained Tam with another anxious sidelong glance at the French officer. ”We both studied law, but he chose perhaps to misuse some of his time with people who muddled his thinking. They dabbled with the outrageous theories of Karl Marx, Lenin and even Nguyen Ai Quoc. I'm not sure how seriously he took it because he still seems happy to enjoy the pleasures of the capitalist life. But his study of Marxism sometimes colors his thinking in ways very different from my own.” He turned to Paul directly and giggled nervously. ”You understand that, don't you Captain Devraux?”

The French officer smiled. ”But of course, Tam. Don't concern yourself. Today in Saigon everybody's allowed to believe what they like - and there's nothing illegal about studying Marxist doctrine.” He glanced about him and saw that the crowds were beginning to move towards the tiers of banked seats around the lawn tennis court that had been prepared for the final. ”Come on. I think it's time we were taking our places.”

As they made their way towards the court, Tam glanced anxiously about him at the faces of other Annamese. ”I know Kim went out of his way to invite a lot of people from the staff of La Lutte,” he said in an undertone as he fell into step beside Paul. ”I hope they don't intend to make trouble.”

”Relax, Tam,” said Paul lightly, as he guided Lan into a seat between himself and Joseph. ”Everything will be all right. Just enjoy the game.”

”What is La Lutte, Paul?” asked Joseph in a whisper when they were seated.

”A left-wing journal published in Saigon. Most of the writers are young Annamese intellectuals who favor Communism of one kind or another. Some are Trotskyites.”

Joseph glanced around the stands that were rapidly filling to capacity with French colons and scattered groups of Asians. Twenty or thirty youthful Annamese were seated in the row behind him, but like the rest of their countrymen their behavior was subdued in the unfamiliar surroundings and they made no attempt to converse with the French around them. When the two players came onto the court, they applauded Kim enthusiastically hut they didn't call out.

As the players took up position on their respective baselines, there was a little amused buzz of comment among the French spectators about the difference in size of the players. The French champion, Jules Pinot, was a tall, muscular a.s.sistant planter from one of the tea plantations near Saigon, and because Kim was only of average height for an Annamese, he appeared small and frail in comparison. As they warmed up, the French player made it clear he was intending to make no concessions to his opponent's diminutive stature; he served and drove the ball deep, forehand and backhand, using the full power of his broad shoulders, and Kim, who employed a heavily cut spinning serve, had to scurry about the court to return the ball with his more delicate, wristy shots.

man looks very confident, Paul,” said Joseph after he had watched for a minute or two. ”He plays a strong game.”

Paul nodded, then directed a sympathetic smile at Lao. ”Unfortunately Kim could not have met a tougher player. Pinot has Won this champions.h.i.+p three years running. You can see that he does not expect to lose.”

Lan watched the wiry figure of her brother for a moment; although they were still loosening up, his face was grim with concentration as he dodged back and forth across the court, scooping up the long, raking drives of the Frenchman. ”Yes, I fear that Monsieur Pinot will prove too powerful for Kim,” she said with a little sigh. ”But he is very conscious that he is the first Annamese to reach the final- he won't give up without a fight.”

The opening games conformed to her predictions, and from time to time between points she smiled resignedly at Paul and Joseph. The Frenchman raced to a three-love lead in the first set, his fast service and sweeping ground strokes swamping Kim's defenses, and all around Joseph and his companions the French colons applauded Pinot with unbridled enthusiasm; on the rare occasions when Kim gained a point they clapped politely to show their sympathy with the underdog. The young Annamese, however, continued to contest each point with great tenacity. He darted swiftly from one side of the court to the other, never tiring of his fruitless pursuits, and as the set advanced he began to antic.i.p.ate better the pace and direction of his opponent's shots. He lost the fourth game to go four-love down, but the fifth game hung in the balance for a long time as he saved a series of set points with delicately cut returns which fell dead close to the net. The French player's face darkened as he dashed forward from the baseline repeatedly to deal with these tantalizing shots, and by varying his direction cleverly, Kim was able to deceive his bigger opponent with increasing frequency. In trying unsuccessfully to prevent Kim taking the game with yet another cleverly lighted backhand, the irritated Pinot slipped as he lunged across the court and sprawled full length into the foot of the net. When he untangled himself and stood up, his white singlet was discolored with bright green gra.s.s stains, and the group of Annamese seated behind Paul and Joseph immediately rose to their feet, clapping and yelling their appreciation of Kim's guileful first victory. Some waved folded copies of La Lutte above their heads, arid seeing this, Annamese in other parts of the stands got up to join in the noisy accolade.

Joseph, glancing sideways at Lan, saw her delighted smile fade slowly into an expression of unease as the ecstatic cheering continued. The rigid set of her head and shoulders betrayed her inner tension, and Paul, noticing this, took her hand in his in a little gesture of rea.s.surance. A moment later, however, Joseph saw her withdraw it and she sat silently between them, staring fixedly at the court while the French spectators all around them glared stonily at Kim's gleefully cheering supporters.

Winning the game had increased Kim's confidence, while the heavy fall had shaken the Frenchman, and when the match resumed the Annamese began to Flight the ball with ever greater accuracy. Each point that he won was greeted by his countrymen with renewed bursts of cheering, and many of the French colons began to scowl and mutter irritably among themselves. Kim won the next game, then the following two more easily to level the set at four-all, and again his supporters cheered him wildly.

In the ninth game Kim served his heavily cut services with great care, his face a mask of concentration. He dropped the ball short over the net again and again, then made the rattled Frenchman scurry to the rear of the court with delicately struck high lobs. With the rhythm of his powerful, free-swinging game broken, Pinot began to make error after error; the rallies stuttered and jerked in erratic patterns robbed of their traditional European flow, and Kim won that game and the next one easily to take the first set six-four amidst a new storm of delirious Annamese applause.

In the second set the pattern of the early part of the match was completely reversed. To hysterical cheers from his countrymen, Kim raced to a five-love lead, dancing nimbly around the court, stroking the ball artfully in unexpected directions to make the perspiring Frenchman appear leaden-footed and foolish. Pinot, growing red-faced with embarra.s.sment, began shaking his head and muttering to himself between points, and the watching French colons fell silent, sharing visibly in the humiliation of their champion. Lan and her brother Tam, sensitive to the tension that was growing among the spectators, ceased to applaud their brother's points and sat silently beside Paul and Joseph, their faces serious and apprehensive.

At the start of the sixth game the increasingly desperate Pinot crashed to the turf again during an unsuccessful dive to retrieve a deftly flicked pa.s.sing shot; when he rose to his feet he was limping badly and clearly doomed to lose. Kim, taking full advantage of the injury, continued to dart nimbly about the court, tapping and patting the ball with infuriating accuracy just beyond the reach of the handicapped Frenchman, and when he arrived at match point with another delicate drop shot, the Annamese in the crowd made more noise than ever.

In an effort to clinch the match Kim spun his service wickedly, then followed it with a new flurry of cunningly weighted wrist shots; another jerky rally ensued, and in the tense silence a monocled Frenchman in front of Joseph stood up suddenly and waved his arms at the umpire. ”C'est honteux!” he yelled in an exasperated voice. 'This is shameful! You must disqualify him! His play is anti-sportive.”

Other Frenchmen in different parts of the crowd, as though relieved that some lead had at last been given, leaped to their feet too, shouting complaints about Kim's ”unsporting” use of balles amorties -the ”deadened” ball-and his service coupe-his heavily cut serve.

Yells of ”Disqualify him!” rose from French throats in all corners of the stands, and on the court Pinot stopped suddenly in the middle of the rally and turned -an agonized face towards the umpire. Kim, his features stiff with concentration, chipped the ball accurately past the immobile Frenchman and, throwing his racquet ecstatically into the air, ran towards a large group of Annamese at the courtside with outstretched arms. The French umpire, however, shouting above the growing pandemonium, called a ”let” and tried to order Kim back onto the court to replay the point.

”Sales Francais! Sales Francais!” suddenly screamed an Annamese close behind Joseph and Lan. ”Filthy French! Filthy French! You can't stop and replay the game just because you've been beaten by one of your 'slaves.'”

Joseph turned his head in time to see two enraged Frenchmen rise from their seats and knock the Annamese down.