The Gobi Desert (10 page)

At the same time, without really knowing why, I grabbed my torch. The light shone fully on Sanders' face, a face whose ghastly expression terrified me.

‘Put that light out!' he ordered. ‘Put it out, do you hear?'

I did as he said. He grabbed hold of my wrist. I felt his breath panting on my face.

‘You have asked me!' he roared. ‘Asked me to do what, I would like to know? You won't prevent me from telling the truth, will you? There's no in-between. Either you don't really know the woman we're talking about, in which case it's the job of all those who are in the least bit your friends, to tell you and not to let you get dragged down further. Or you already know the truth. In which case . . . .'

*

It was a pity it was so dark! Without the darkness Sanders would have seen me shrug my shoulders. The poor man! Was this all his experience of such problems? ‘In which case . . .' he said. I guessed what was going to come! This pity that he showed me, how I was returning it, good God! If he imagined that affairs of the heart were as simple as that! So he had never been aware of the space which can separate doubt and certainty? The tranquillity, the happiness of a whole lifetime can easily exist quite comfortably in such a space. That was admittedly how I should have continued to think, without bothering any more about him, if just at that moment a new thought hadn't occurred to me. What was it Sanders wanted to talk about? Was it something I knew, or not? In any case, in his eyes as well as mine, it suddenly struck me that it would be wrong of me if I didn't insist on him explaining himself.

‘The woman who we're talking about, you say?' I began. ‘What about her? I'm not the sort of man to be put off by an insinuation, nor you either, I would hope . . . ‘

He laughed contemptuously.

‘An insinuation? That's good, that is! It's unfortunate that neither Habrekorm, the mechanic on the
Bendigo,
nor that excellent Captain Lucas, isn't here. Perhaps they would agree, between themselves, to confide in you how much it cost them to discover the beautiful body of the lady in question. What a shame! I pitied you, the first time I saw you with her. I don't know why but I was greatly upset and sympathetic towards you, it was something which was beyond my control.'

‘I'm much obliged,' I replied, trying to laugh. ‘But let's stick to the facts, if you don't mind. Malicious gossip, drunken rubbish, if that's all you have by way of proof . . . !‘

How on earth was this hideous conference going to finish? I didn't know. It was Sanders who put an end to it.

‘Excuse me,' he murmured, in a voice which had suddenly become serious again. ‘You are rather difficult to please, my friend.'

‘If that's all you have to offer!' I repeated.

He seemed to hesitate. Then breaking the silence again he said: ‘All right then. We'll try and do better next time, since you insist.'

Sanders spread out his large map. ‘One more week and we won't be far from the place I was telling you about.'

He pointed to the spot on the map. I knew what he was referring to. ‘When we get to this point here,' he had said two weeks earlier, ‘if what we're looking for really exists, we shall soon find out.' That was all he said. Since then it had been impossible to get another word out of him. And yet now I had the impression that he was only too keen to satisfy our curiosity.

I didn't say anything. Visibly offended by our argument the previous evening, he had been trying all morning to strike up a conversation. But that would have been too easy, wouldn't it? If he thought he could get off so lightly, he had another think coming.

We hadn't exchanged a single word the whole night. I dozed off just before dawn. Had he also fallen asleep after that? I don't know. I'm sure he hadn't before then. When I woke up he was no longer in the lorry. We set off on our way again immediately. Throughout the morning there wasn't a moment when we were alone together. It was just when we stopped for the midday meal that I managed to whisper in his ear:

‘Are you going to say anything about last night or not?'

He turned as crimson as an aubergine, and replied in a tone of voice in contrast with the almost timid look he gave me.

‘I don't take orders from you, little boy. What I have to tell you, I'll say when I'm ready, which will be soon enough for you, you can be sure. Meanwhile try to get on with own work a bit better, if you don't mind. It was me instead of you who had to give the order to get going this morning.'

‘As you like,' I said, shrugging my shoulders, ‘enjoy your peace while you can, because this evening I won't allow to get away again with not saying anything, you also can be sure of that!' With that I turned my back on him, to the astonishment of Welowski who had just turned up.

*

As a result of climbing steadily and without respite, we had by now reached a respectable height up the mountain. There was no need for any scientific equipment to prove this. The state of our hearts and lungs was sufficient. The Koreans seemed to be more or less used to this type of exercise. The Russians on the other hand were less at ease. We were all panting. Tobacco smoke became increasingly oppressive. On top of that it felt as if a headband was tightly gripping our heads. And all around us there was a deep, deathly silence.

We continued on our way, with the greatest possible caution. Welowski and Saunders worked out our position with a sextant, as if we were at sea. Needless to say we were armed, from head to foot, against any band of brigands, although such an encounter was less and less likely in this emptiness. Above all we had with us Nain-Sain, who gave us more reassurance than anyone else did. You could say about our Mongolian that he lacked amiability and was of a withdrawn disposition. His natural silence had about it a certain secretiveness. But there was one thing which nobody could possibly reproach him for: that was of not knowing what he was doing. Each time we failed to follow his advice, we regretted it almost immediately. We had a new proof of this when we had to abandon the junks. Nain-Sain had recommended that we should acquire a dozen horses and camels. Sanders, who occasionally had peculiar crises of stubbornness, was strongly opposed to this, not out of miserliness, but simply because in Korea we had managed to get along very well without them. Nain-Sain hadn't insisted. But it was not long before events proved him right. We were only too glad, in the week that followed, to come across a caravan which agreed to sell us six of their wonderful long-haired little Turcoman horses, whose sureness of foot exceeds that of the mules when it comes to moving along at the edge of a precipice. Thereafter our progress, as Nain-Sain predicted, improved, both in terms of speed and safety. Those among us who had been given the role of scouts could, from that moment on, do our job more effectively and with less strain and tiredness; in addition we could be sure that the heavy lorries in our convoy could avoid the risk of getting stuck in a cul-de-sac, or on a track which ended in an abyss.

*

‘Just look at that!' cried Neratov, who usually didn't say a word.

The fog again, of course! The fog, which seemed to complete the sensation of silent emptiness into which we were falling, deeper and deeper. The summit of some wild mountain peak emerged briefly from the mist, only to disappear again immediately.

‘Nain-Sain? Where has he got to?' asked Ilichine.

‘Nain-Sain? Where is he?' The question which there was always someone who dared to ask, whenever we had cause for concern! One of our ponies neighed mournfully. We shuddered. We had almost finished lunch. Nain-Sain was not with us.

‘He left a good hour ago,' said Youen, who was busy cutting up slices of pineapple on our aluminium plates. Ilichine and Neratov smoked their pipes in silence. Kailor and Ou-Tsing were eating, while at the same time greasing their rifles, which they then cautiously wrapped up in strips of cotton wool.

‘A good hour ago! He might at least have told me!' said Sanders, pretending to be annoyed, but more concerned not to let fall a silence which he was afraid would be to my benefit, a silence which would have allowed me to take him aside, perhaps, and which would require him once again to explain himself to me.

‘So we just have to wait,' said Welowski. ‘Don't you agree, chief?'

Sanders, who I was sure was becoming increasingly concerned, hurriedly replied:

‘Yes, of course we'll have to wait! Youen, open a bottle of vodka . . . for anyone who wants some . . . ‘

He poured a large glassful for himself. I watched him with curiosity. Since we had left Fouzan he hadn't drunk at all.

‘Now then, would this be a good moment to . . . . . . ‘ I said.

He didn't answer, but gave me a look in which there was both anger and pleading. At that moment he realised there was nothing more he could do, that I had caught him.

What a strange afternoon! We waited nearly two hours in a fog which was getting thicker and thicker, without moving from the spot where we had our lunch. Nain-Sain was still not back. The convoy could not set off without him. Not one of us – not even Sanders – cared to go and look for him in the grey and frozen darkness, on the terrifying cliff road which we had been climbing all morning. We waited without saying a word, in a silence which was broken only by the distant sound of a rock falling and crashing down to bottom of an abyss, or the raucous cry of some creature – a bird or a wild animal, you couldn't tell which.

Then suddenly, the sound of footsteps: at last Nain-Sain appeared, leading his horse by the bridle. Normally so indifferent, now he had a gleam in his eyes which nobody could mistake.

‘That's the Gobi out there, isn't it?' murmured Welowski.

Neratov echoed him: ‘Is that the Gobi out there?'

Nain-Sain ignored them. He just gave a nod to Sanders, who got up to follow him. I also jumped up.

‘I'm coming with you!' I said.

I said it with such authority that Sanders immediately realised that it would have been pointless to order me to stay where I was.

How long did we walk behind Nain-Sain? Three-quarters of an hour roughly, not more, and we didn't go very far. We walked slowly, feeling our way with our hands along the rocky cliff face on one side. On the other side there was the precipice.

Then suddenly we stopped. The track was no longer climbing. After a week of almost uninterrupted ascent, we must have reached the edge of a vast plateau. But still we couldn't see more than a few feet in front of us . . . .

‘Wait here' ordered Nain-Sain. In a voice which the mist seemed to muffle even more, he added: ‘In half an hour we'll see it. In the desert the fog always clears before nightfall.'

Then despite Sanders' attempt to keep him he disappeared once again into the half-light.

*

‘So this is the moment!' I repeated.

The Gobi was there, of course, behind that opaque wall of mist. It was there. And then what? Perhaps Sanders thought he could use it as a way out!

What was this place where Nain-Sain had left us, so he could set off again, to continue his tireless exploring? A sort of granite belvedere, a natural balcony where I sat down, and invited my companion to join me.

‘Where could be better than this?' I asked, somewhat impertinently. ‘You must come clean. You know you can't get out of this. You remember what you promised me last night? To give me proof that your idle gossip was not just a heap of abject slander.'

He usually didn't like it when people spoke to him in that tone of voice. He remained silent, not breathing a word.

‘Slander, or lies perhaps,' I continued, ‘Lies of which you could well be the source, why not?'

This time I touched a nerve. He jumped.

‘Hasn't it occurred to you, you poor fool, that it's out of pity for you that I'm not saying anything?' he roared.

‘Pity?' I said laughing. ‘That's good, that's something else, that is!'

I seized him by the arm and shook him vigorously. ‘It's me who should have pity for you. Don't you see what you're doing? Do you know who you remind me of? A friend of mine, called Nevelsky, also a philanthropist. Like you, this Nevelsky spent a whole night telling me rubbish about someone who is dearer to me than anyone else in the world, than life itself, you understand, simply because he also had pity for me. I've had enough of this hypocrisy! Do you imagine that you can at your leisure pour mud over some poor unfortunate child without it causing you some sort of trouble?'

Still he refused to say a word. Anger and fury began to overwhelm me.

‘Proof, I said yesterday! Habrekorm, Lucas, all your old friends, do you think I believe everything they say? And you, how could you believe it? To have spoken like that, with such certainty – as I said to this Nevesky – like him, you would have had to yourself . . . . But what's the matter, good God? What are you doing?'

The dreadful suspicion! How had it come to me? I couldn't believe it! But how could I prevent that suspicion from giving way to an even more dreadful certainty?

‘What's the matter?' I repeated.

I stood up unsteadily. White with rage, I let go of Sanders' arm. ‘You miserable creature!' I said. ‘You as well, then, eh?'

*

I covered my eyes with my hands. How long did we stay like that? I don't know. I only heard, right next to me, Sanders breathing. At last he spoke.

‘I didn't say anything, Michel', he said hesitantly. ‘As God is my witness it was you who said it.'

‘Miserable creature!' was all I could say.

I felt he was trying timidly to take my hand. I pushed him away.

‘Leave me alone! Aren't you ashamed?'

‘Michel, Michel, listen to me! Would you believe me if I gave you my word? There is one thing which I swear to you: I did not know her, that's to say, I still did not know you, when it happened. Before then, yes, of course! When I saw the two of you together, you and her, I felt more than a little regret. It was real sadness, do you understand, a genuine sadness!'

I shrugged my shoulders. All this was just words, only words. What was the point of any of this, I wondered.

Once again we sat in silence. The icy wind which had sprung up seemed to redouble in ferocity. No longer able to put up with this, and as if suffocating from the silence, I finally removed my hands from my eyes. I saw Sanders. He looked at me and smiled, with a sort of smile that I had never seen before, a poor smile admittedly, full of distress, but also full of a sort of radiance.

‘I don't regret what has just happened,' he said simply.

I continued to look at him. It was my turn to keep quiet, for the moment. How should he interpret my silence? If he imagined that I could have any interest in his protestations! He could have multiplied what he said a million times and still he wouldn't dispel the only feeling that I could have from now on: hate, hate, hate! Hatred for anything, I admit, but for him – no. We are only betrayed by those in whom we have placed a certain amount of trust, isn't that so? Now, as for me, I already felt almost friendship towards Sanders, can you believe that? How was it that I didn't kill him there and then? I don't know. Sticking out from his belt I saw the revolver which I had fired at Otto Streep. I had done that so quickly, so easily! But something told me that now was not the time or place, and that Sanders had not yet exhausted the list of obligations he had towards me.

But he was talking to me again. Gently, he persuaded me to sit down next to him. What was he saying to me? He was making lots of consoling noises, but they were not even getting through to me.

‘You must understand,' he kept saying, ‘it's better like this. There's nothing you have to blame yourself for.'

The wind was picking up, and growing ever stronger. How was it that it hadn't managed to disperse all that scaffolding of cloud which seemed to sway back and forth in front of us like a gigantic curtain in a theatre? Sanders was still talking. Then suddenly, I heard him stop. I felt his grip tighten on my hand.

I uttered a dull exclamation. ‘My God!' I murmured. ‘Look at that!'

*

The Gobi Desert! Suddenly, in front of us, there it was. There were no longer any more of the fleecy clouds of a short while ago, only some dull grey wisps which were now being blown to the four corners of the universe by a wind that had become wild in its fury. We held on to our fur hats with both hands so that they too were not blown away. It was a pale and frightening scene. This was it, the sombre desert, graveyard of men and animals, a doleful, dull brown sea suddenly solidified by the most savage cataclysm, an appalling jumble of waves frozen into escarpments and ravines, a false plain riddled with chasms and caverns, a fawn-coloured labyrinth in which, once you had the misfortune of entering, you had to turn around, and again, always turning, without ever being able to get out! If the prey which we were going to try and capture was anything like this horrifying landscape, if it was anything on the same scale, then what a monster from hell, one day soon, we were destined to encounter. It was enough to make you shudder!