The Honorary Consul Read Free Page B

cavity.
           For want of anything better Doctor Plarr, too, ordered goulash. Doctor Humphries said, "I am surprised to see you. I would have thought the Governor might have invited you... he must need someone who speaks English for his dinner tonight."
           Doctor Plarr realized why the message had been stuck into the looking glass. There could have been a last-minute slip in the Governor's arrangements. It had happened once, and Doctor Humphries had been summoned... After all there were only three Englishmen who were available. He said, "He has invited Charley Fortnum."
           "Oh yes, of course," Doctor Humphries said, "our Honorary Consul." He underlined the adjective in a tone of embittered denigration. "This is a diplomatic dinner. I suppose the Honorary Consul's wife could not appear for reasons of health?"
           "The American Ambassador is unmarried, Doctor Humphries. It's informal—a stag party."
           "A very suitable occasion one might have thought for inviting Mrs. Fortnum to entertain the guests. She must be accustomed to stag parties. But why does the Governor not invite you or me?"
           "Be fair, doctor. You and I have no official position here."
           "But we know a lot more about the Jesuit ruins than Charley Fortnum does. According to 'El Litoral' the Ambassador has come here to see the rums, not the tea or the maté crop, though that hardly seems likely. American ambassadors are usually men of business."
           "The new Ambassador wants to create a good impression," Doctor Plarr said. "Art and history. He can't be suspected of a take-over bid there. He wants to show a scholarly interest in our province, not a commercial one. The secretary of finance has not been invited, even though he speaks a little English. Otherwise a loan might have been suspected."
           "And the Ambassador—doesn't he speak enough Spanish for a polite toast and a few platitudes?"
           "They say he is making rapid progress."
           "What a lot you always seem to know about everything, Plarr. I only know what we read in 'El Litoral'. He's off to the ruins tomorrow, isn't he?"
           "No, he went there today. Tonight he returns to B. A. by air."
           "The paper's wrong then?"
           "The official program was a little inaccurate. I suppose the Governor didn't want any incidents."
           "Incidents here? What an idea! I haven't seen an incident in this province in twenty years. Incidents only happen in Córdoba. The goulash isn't so very bad, is it?" he asked hopefully.
           "I've eaten worse," Doctor Plarr said without trying to remember on what occasion.
           "I see you've been reading one of Saavedra's books. What do you think of it?"
           "Very talented," Doctor Plarr said. Like the Governor he didn't want any incidents, and he recognized the malice which remained alive and kicking in the old man long after discretion had died from a lifetime's neglect.
           "You can really read that stuff? You believe in all that 'machismo'?"
           "While I read it," Doctor Plarr said with care, "I can suspend my disbelief."
           "These Argentinians—they all believe their grandfathers rode with the gauchos. Saavedra has about as much 'machismo' as Charley Fortnum. Is it true Charley's having a baby?"
           "Yes."
           "Who's the lucky father?"
           "Why not Charley?"
           "An old man and a drunk? You're her doctor, Plarr. Tell me a little bit of the truth. I don't ask for a very big bit."
           "Why do you always want the truth?"
           "Contrary to common belief the truth is nearly always funny. It's only tragedy which people bother to imagine or invent. If you really knew what went into this goulash you'd laugh."
           "Do you know?"
           "No. People always conspire to keep the truth from me. Even you lie to me,