Read Online Man Who Was Late by Louis Begley - Free Book Online Page A

the opinion I had formed of my conversational ability in his language. Where but at Ben’s house, he went on, could I risk finding the only young woman in Paris who has ever resisted me, flirting with an American?
    But I am practically American myself, Véronique laughed, and this man is my long-lost cousin and Ben’s best friend! Paul is here too, and he really is flirting—with Ben and Ben’s rich clients!
    It turned out that they knew each other very well, although I like to think quite innocently, due to family ties between a certain Odile, who had been appropriately receptive to Guy’s attentions, and Véronique’s nearest neighbors in the village near Arpajon, where she and Paul had their country place, so that they were almost certain to see each other—on mostweekends, I gathered—when the Count and Countess de Montorgueil entertained.
    And it suddenly seemed utterly absurd to Guy that, having introduced Ben to all the elegant women and great houses in his acquaintance, he had never taken him to that particular château, which had no equal in the Île-de-France among properties still in private hands, and that he had never presumed to present Ben to his adorable compatriot. He took out one of those Hermès pocket diaries bound in wine-colored leather without which the French appear so lost and was ready to make concrete plans, when Ben rejoined us, saying, Monsieur Decaze is a fast worker! Before we know it he will be in Rabat, helping my friends from Oklahoma to work their way out of a French construction contract, and you will end up being very angry at me, he added for the benefit of Véronique, because while these Moroccan expeditions in themselves are profitable and perhaps even amusing, eventually they turn one’s social life into a Sahara. You will never know whether you can count on your husband’s being in Paris.
    Guy and Ben now kissed each other. I could not help noting how quickly expressions of joyous surprise at finding Véronique at Ben’s and of resolve to have Ben become a regular visitor in the countryside surrounding Arpajon and its noble dwellings entered Guy’s permanent repertory. Kissing men on both cheeks instead of shaking hands and kissing women on their hands were newly acquired habits I had already begged Ben to abjure; I found them unattractive in an American, even if he was one only by adoption. An ill-timedand unfair irritation was overcoming me; it was as though my plans had already worked too well. Fortunately, Prudence reappeared at the head of the Oklahoma contingent. We drank more champagne; Ben made a toast to phosphates and their miraculous uses; Gianni presented a succession of those truly miraculous round breads, hollowed out and refilled with paper-thin sandwiches of smoked salmon, prosciutto, and Roquefort that are the underpinnings of a Parisian cocktail party. It was the first time the Oklahomans had encountered them. These are
pains surprise
, surprising breads, Véronique informed the short thin man. If you tell me what hotel you are staying at, I will have a couple of them delivered to you to take to Rabat. An airplane ride won’t hurt them at all!
    Scott van Damm had reserved a large table at Chez Joséphine, just down the street. The hour for the clients’ early dinner had come—they were suffering from jet lag, upset stomachs and other perhaps even worse discomforts. Ben asked to be excused from keeping them company; the pretext, that in a few minutes he would have to return to the office to speak to New York, was one that Prudence and I had confidently expected. Quite unexpected was Paul’s offer, enthusiastically supported by Véronique, to go along to the restaurant and take Ben’s place and make sure they had a true Parisian meal.
    Decaze is lucky, that cousin of yours is a good business partner, remarked Ben as we returned to the drawing room. With a word or two spoken in French, he had prevented Guy from leaving with the others, and now, throwing