her voice. “Life in Virginia is very limited, monsieur. The social and cultural horizons are very narrow. I’ve been looking forward to this visit for a long time for that reason. My youngest son, Joseph, is very interested in history, and we are going to Hue to look at the Imperial City and watch the emperor perform the traditional ceremonies of Tet.”
“Then I will hope to have the pleasure of meeting you again in the ancient city of the Annamese emperors,” said the governor, smiling again. “1 too shall be attending the ceremonies prior to a few days’ relaxation at the hill station of Dalat.”
At that moment the senator’s wife sensed the eyes of another man upon her and turned her head quickly to find a tall, lean faced Frenchman in a white dinner jacket standing beside the governor’s aide, watching her intently. Because she turned unexpectedly she surprised him in an unguarded moment of frank sexual appraisal, but his dark, unsmiling gaze continued to hold hers steadily until she looked away again. The governor’s aide, who had noticed her turn, saw his chance and ushered the silent Frenchman into the circle.
“Senator and Madame Sherman, may I present the man who will be your guide and mentor in the jungle, Monsieur Jacques Devraux. Monsieur Devraux was formerly an officer of the Infanterie Coloniale but he is now our most accomplished hunter of big game.”
Jacques Devraux pressed her fingers briefly and bent his dark head for an instant over her hand. She felt his lips brush against her skin and heard his murmured “Enchanté,” but he didn’t look at her again before greeting the senator,
“I’m glad to meet you, Monsieur Devraux,” cried Nathaniel Sherman, treating the Frenchman to warm, vigorous handshake. “We’ve got a lot to talk over. How soon do you think we can get our supplies together? When might we think of making a start?”
The governor raised his shaggy brows at Flavia Sherman in a theatrical expression of sympathy as her husband launched into a detailed discussion of his hunting plans, and taking her by the elbow, he guided her away towards the waiting throng to begin introducing her.
As they departed an Annamese servant appeared soundlessly at Joseph Sherman’s elbow, offering him another glass of champagne. The American boy stared at his empty glass, which he had drained nervously at a gulp, and looked uncertainly towards the figure of his mother fast disappearing among the crowd. She had admonished him before they left the hotel to drink no more than one glass, and his brother, Chuck, who was sipping his own wine confidently without the restraint of any such embargo, looked down and laughed good-naturedly at his indecision. “It looks like Momma’s upstaged you — she’s the real belle of the ball after all, not you. So take another one and drown your sorrows — I’ll be responsible.”
Joseph scowled back with mock ferocity at his brother as he picked up another glass and he was Sipping it more circumspectly when a grinning dark-haired French youth of about eighteen approached them, holding out his hand.
“Bonsoir, messieurs, I’m Paul Devraux. I help my father and I was very glad to hear that you speak good French. The only English phrases I have learned so far are: ‘You have a beautiful figure’.
‘Will you go to bed with me?’.. . ‘I love you.’. . . And I don’t think these expressions would be much use between us.”
Both brothers laughed out loud at the deliberately comic delivery of his English phrases as they shook hands. Paul Devraux’s features bore a strong resemblance to his father’s, but his dark eyes twinkled mischievously in his sunburned face and he affected a droll, cynical expression.
“I hope you enjoyed our governor’s speech,” he said, leaning confidently towards them. “But don’t believe everything he says. Some people claim it is not really a mission civilisatrice at all that the French are
“Then I will hope to have the pleasure of meeting you again in the ancient city of the Annamese emperors,” said the governor, smiling again. “1 too shall be attending the ceremonies prior to a few days’ relaxation at the hill station of Dalat.”
At that moment the senator’s wife sensed the eyes of another man upon her and turned her head quickly to find a tall, lean faced Frenchman in a white dinner jacket standing beside the governor’s aide, watching her intently. Because she turned unexpectedly she surprised him in an unguarded moment of frank sexual appraisal, but his dark, unsmiling gaze continued to hold hers steadily until she looked away again. The governor’s aide, who had noticed her turn, saw his chance and ushered the silent Frenchman into the circle.
“Senator and Madame Sherman, may I present the man who will be your guide and mentor in the jungle, Monsieur Jacques Devraux. Monsieur Devraux was formerly an officer of the Infanterie Coloniale but he is now our most accomplished hunter of big game.”
Jacques Devraux pressed her fingers briefly and bent his dark head for an instant over her hand. She felt his lips brush against her skin and heard his murmured “Enchanté,” but he didn’t look at her again before greeting the senator,
“I’m glad to meet you, Monsieur Devraux,” cried Nathaniel Sherman, treating the Frenchman to warm, vigorous handshake. “We’ve got a lot to talk over. How soon do you think we can get our supplies together? When might we think of making a start?”
The governor raised his shaggy brows at Flavia Sherman in a theatrical expression of sympathy as her husband launched into a detailed discussion of his hunting plans, and taking her by the elbow, he guided her away towards the waiting throng to begin introducing her.
As they departed an Annamese servant appeared soundlessly at Joseph Sherman’s elbow, offering him another glass of champagne. The American boy stared at his empty glass, which he had drained nervously at a gulp, and looked uncertainly towards the figure of his mother fast disappearing among the crowd. She had admonished him before they left the hotel to drink no more than one glass, and his brother, Chuck, who was sipping his own wine confidently without the restraint of any such embargo, looked down and laughed good-naturedly at his indecision. “It looks like Momma’s upstaged you — she’s the real belle of the ball after all, not you. So take another one and drown your sorrows — I’ll be responsible.”
Joseph scowled back with mock ferocity at his brother as he picked up another glass and he was Sipping it more circumspectly when a grinning dark-haired French youth of about eighteen approached them, holding out his hand.
“Bonsoir, messieurs, I’m Paul Devraux. I help my father and I was very glad to hear that you speak good French. The only English phrases I have learned so far are: ‘You have a beautiful figure’.
‘Will you go to bed with me?’.. . ‘I love you.’. . . And I don’t think these expressions would be much use between us.”
Both brothers laughed out loud at the deliberately comic delivery of his English phrases as they shook hands. Paul Devraux’s features bore a strong resemblance to his father’s, but his dark eyes twinkled mischievously in his sunburned face and he affected a droll, cynical expression.
“I hope you enjoyed our governor’s speech,” he said, leaning confidently towards them. “But don’t believe everything he says. Some people claim it is not really a mission civilisatrice at all that the French are