Read Online Tropic Moon by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online Page A

for a long time as she went on talking. He kept trying to think what they reminded him of.
    â€œIn principle. Usually the rights revert to the state when the settler dies, but—”
    She never wore stockings or underwear and he had seldom seen such white legs. He looked at them because he knew Adèle was looking at him. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something once and for all.
    A black came in and laid some fish on the counter.
    â€œThat’s fine! I’ll pay you next time.”
    She drank the liquor like a medicine, making a face as she swallowed.
    â€œThere’s a guy called Truffaut who’s been here for twenty-eight years and gone native. He married a black woman and has ten or twelve children with her. He’s furious because now that they have boats with outboard motors his concession is only a day’s journey from Libreville.”
    Their eyes met. Timar knew that she was perfectly aware he wasn’t listening, but there was only a flicker of impatience on her face. Unperturbed, she went on, just like his old teacher, who’d continue her lesson to the end even when the children weren’t paying attention in the least.
    The situation was the same—the same sense of distraction, the same desire to be doing something else, the same resignation. In his mind, Timar pictured Truffaut as a biblical patriarch among his children of color.
    â€œWith a hundred thousand francs …”
    And he saw himself giving the first thousand of the three thousand francs to the mechanic, who at that very moment was busy repairing the flatboat.
    â€œHis oldest son would like to study in Europe.”
    Adèle’s hand lay on top of his. She seemed to be asking for a moment, just one moment, of serious attention.
    â€œI can supply the money. And you, you’ll supply your uncle’s support. The Minister of Colonies is a member of the same party. Your uncle can see to it that we’re awarded an exemption, and …”
    When he looked at her again, she was licking the point of her pencil, as she had at the counter; then she wrote out laboriously:
    SACOVA POSITION BAD. STOP. RISK NOT HAVING JOB. STOP. HAVE FOUND OPPORTUNITY WITH BRILLIANT FUTURE. STOP. NECESSARY YOU SEE COLONIES MINISTER IN PARIS AND OBTAIN SPECIAL AUTHORIZATION FOR CESSION TO ME OF TRUFFAUT PERPETUAL LEASE. STOP. ALL URGENCY REQUIRED AS INFORMATION MAY BECOME KNOWN. STOP. HAVE SECURED CAPITAL FOR EXPLOITATION OF CLAIM AND COUNT ON YOUR KINDNESS FOR STEPS THAT WILL MAKE MY FORTUNE. STOP. MUCH LOVE.
    Timar smiled at the final words. Adèle could hardly know that in his family men weren’t especially demonstrative. Certainly no one would take such a familiar tone with Timar’s uncle.
    The whole time she was writing, he’d been conscious of his superiority to her. He’d even smiled with a tender condescension of his own. Her way of holding herself, of licking the point of her pencil, of spelling out her words with too much care, all betrayed her lack of education and her social class.
    â€œIs that pretty much what you’d have written?”
    â€œMore or less, yes. I’d change a word or two.”
    â€œWell, do it!”
    And she went back to her counter, where she had something to do. When she returned, he was reading over his revision of the telegram, not quite believing it. Later, he’d be incapable of saying just when the decision had been reached. Had there even been a decision? At any rate, just before noon the boy took the telegram to the post office, and it had been Adèle who, without thinking twice, had taken the money for it from the cash register.
    â€œNow, here’s some advice—go pay the governor a visit.”
    Timar hadn’t been out all day. He jumped at the chance, but not at the idea of going to see the governor. He changed his shirt anyway, since his was soaked through.
    The town was even more depressing than usual because of the