Paris: The Novel

it seized the plant, and began to pull on it. Luc took the dog by the collar and tried to drag it away, but the dog would not be dissuaded from its task. It pulled on the long stalk and dragged it several feet. Then it leaped forward and grabbed the stalk farther up, and pulled that out from the tunnel too. Far underground, the skeleton of the girl began to move, and now Luc realized that if the dog kept pulling, it would pull the dead girl all the way up until she was back in his garden. He must stop the dog, before it dug her up again.
    And it was then, in his dream, that he had grabbed the dog by the throat, and started to throttle it, squeezing harder and harder, to choke the life out of the animal.

    Luc waited a month before he suggested to Louise that it was time for them to part.
    It was not because of the dream, though that perhaps had shown him that she was getting too close to him. Too close.
    He had always intended that, when his work was done, their relationship should move into a different phase. He led up to it gradually.
    “Chérie,”
he said kindly to her one afternoon, “will you promise me one thing: when our affair comes to its natural end—as it will—we shall remain friends. It would pain me very much if, when you left, you were no longer my friend.”
    “I have no plans to leave at present.”
    “That is good to hear. But one day you will. It’s only natural. You will go forward with your life. But I shall be left with wonderful memories, the best of my life. And those will make me happy, as long as we remain friends.”
    “The best of your life?”
    “Absolutely, I assure you.”
    “I was very ignorant.”
    “You are not at all ignorant now. Not in the least. You are wonderful.”
    “If so, I have you to thank.”
    “I could only bring out what was already there. The gardener does not create the flower.”
    There was a pause.
    “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
    “You’re getting too cynical.”
    “I learned that from you.”
    “Only for your own protection. I’m protecting myself as well, you know, by being realistic.” He smiled. “I am a middle-aged man of no importance. You should move on, get yourself a rich lover, as Madame Chanel told you.”
    He had let her think about it for a couple of weeks, then told her that he had to leave Paris on business for a little while. It was quite true, as it happened. He had to go to Amsterdam for a week. “When I get back,” he said, “we shall be friends.”
    “Oh. I see.”
    “Always ask me for help, whenever you need it, whatever you need.” And seeing her look doubtful, he added: “Remember, I should be hurt if you did not.” He smiled a little sadly. “My only fear is that you will never need me anymore.”

    She did not see him again for over a month. She was sure he was back from Amsterdam, and several times she was on the point of going around to the family restaurant to ask after him. But her pride held her back. He had told her she wouldn’t need him. She’d show him he was right.
    And finally, it was he who came to her. He turned up at her door one evening.
    “I came to see how you were.”
    “I am well,” she said calmly, but she didn’t invite him in. If he was hoping to crawl back to her, she was going to make him crawl a long way for a long time.
    “Is there anything you need?”
    “No, thank you.”
    “Would you like to make some money?”
    “Why? How?”
    He shrugged.
    “Let me give you a meal and I will tell you. It’s an opportunity that came my way. It may be of no interest to you. It’s something … diplomatic.”
    And because she was curious, she agreed to meet him that evening at a brasserie nearby.
    It was interesting to observe him because, after a number of inquiries about her welfare which were practical and thoughtful, he became rather businesslike.
    “There is an ambassador I know. He’s from a small country, he’s rich, and unusually for a diplomat in that position, he’s unmarried.”
    “How do you come to know such people, Luc?”
    “It does not matter. He is a nice man, he knows everybody of importance in Paris, he is very cultivated, and he is … fastidious.”
    “And so?”
    “I think you should get to know him. He would like you.”
    “And do you propose to introduce me to this person?”
    “I have told him all about you. He’s quite interested to meet you. In fact, he’d like to take you out to dinner.”
    “Let me understand. Is he looking for a