Бруно Травен - Aslan Norval

“Maybe so. But do you know, ma’am, this Mr. Beckford really is incorrigible. He asked me again—and in the middle of the hearing—whether I would marry him, and if I didn’t want to get married whether I would at least go out to dinner with him.”

“And you, Amy, said yes, of course.”

“Me? I don’t think so. He’s not my type. Too heavy for me and my feelings.”

“Too heavy for you and your feelings?” Aslan gazed into her secretary’s face inquisitively, apparently trying to figure out the meaning of Amy’s words. But Amy was so busy with her steak at that moment that she was clearly not thinking about an answer. “He is,” said Aslan, “exactly the kind of guy to become a Marine Corps sergeant, and probably not even a good one at that. He has no idea what to do with a brain.”

“But, ma’am, he does have something boyish about him. He never feels responsible, no matter what he is doing or plans to do. He just lives in the moment. He doesn’t worry about the future.”

“That’s possible. I’ve never considered him from that perspective. I just haven’t had enough time. And no interest. He can be entertaining for a quarter of an hour. But then he really gets on your nerves. However, for me and my plans, he’s the most suitable man I’ve been able to find. Without a brain, without imagination, without the ability to think for himself. A drill sergeant.”

“I think that it’s time to go, ma’am,” said Amy, washing down her last bite with a sip of water.

Aslan got up and stretched. “I feel like new. The hardest part is over. The honorable pencil pushers listened to me and allowed me to explain what I had to clarify. And that, if I may say so myself, is a great success.”

When Aslan and Amy were sitting in the cab, Amy asked innocently: “Ma’am, do you think that you have convinced the gentlemen that your company is healthy and that there is not the slightest fraud at play?”

“Amy,” said Aslan, checking her freshly made-up face in a little hand mirror, “Amy, you little innocent lamb. Have you not realized that I am acting in the loveliest and most amusing comedy with these venerable gentlemen?”

“What do you mean, ma’am?”

“It’s a propaganda comedy, my little lamb. Oh, here we are. Pay the driver.”

A few minutes later, Aslan was back in the chamber. A few senators were loitering in order to listen to some of the lobbyists in the hallway and to figure out how much they might gain from this or that promise and what personal advantages such a half affirmation might bring them.

Dozens of attentive women watching from home had nothing better to do than to sketch the outlines of Aslan’s dress. They guessed that it must have been made in Paris; since nothing like it was available in New York. In fact, this heavenly creation came from Vienna.

Senator Drake chaired the committee now. He noticed Beckford, who was fiddling with maps, boards, and tables, and remembered how his victorious moment had been spoiled when Aslan came to Beckford’s rescue the day before. He said to himself: “I abhor this bear of a man. I can’t stand him. He hasn’t done anything to me, but I would hold him in contempt of this court if I could. What an unpleasant character! I wonder where she found him. He must be the errand boy of the company, even if they are presenting him here as the general manager. She took his place just in time, and now she’s running the show. And how well she does it. Instead of fearing us, now we are the ones who have started to fear her. One wrong word, and she’s got us. Thirty—oh, who am I kidding, sixty million people are watching and laughing at us as this heiress makes a mockery of us.”

“Miss Norval,” he started, “let us forget about other canals, and the prices of grain, cotton, sugarcane, and coffee! Let us also forget the state of Illinois and let us finally talk about your canal, which the company you founded plans to build.”

“If you misunderstood me, sir, then I apologize with all due respect. However, I cannot defend our project successfully if I’m not allowed to compare our allegedly unfeasible plan with others that are similar and were indeed successfully executed.”

“Would you not agree, Miss Norval, that the Panama Canal, which the U.S. already owns, fulfills its purpose and renders your project redundant?”

“Whether the Panama Canal fulfills its purpose is a question that has not been answered to date.”

“Now, how are we supposed to understand that, Miss Norval?”

“Since you’ve now brought up the Panama Canal again, it seems very important to return to this point, both for the purposes of this investigation and for the defense of our project. The question of the Panama Canal might in fact force our government to participate actively in our project.”

“Are you not exaggerating a little, Miss Norval?”

“Not at all, sir.”

Aslan moved her hand, and a map of Panama as well as three boards full of numbers appeared behind her.

“Gentlemen, I am not including the costs for the construction of the Panama Canal itself in the sum of money I will mention here. That amount constitutes the indemnity that we paid to the Republic of Panama to ensure their continued friendship.”

“An indemnity, Miss Norval?”

“That is right, an indemnity. Or rather, we should call it a bribe. Let us enumerate: In 1904, our government paid Panama ten million dollars for the right to use the canal zone. Between 1914 and 1936, our government paid Panama two hundred fifty thousand dollars annually. In gold, I might add. That already adds up to five million seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. The Panamanian government demanded an increase of the indemnity, and therefore our government paid four hundred thirty thousand dollars annually between 1937 and 1955, although no longer in gold. In 1955, our government pledged to pay one million nine hundred thirty thousand dollars each year. And please note that Panama demanded an annual payment of five million dollars before the signing of the agreement in 1955. Currently, Panama insists on a yearly indemnity of fifty percent of net earnings.

“Gentlemen, if you add it all up, our government has paid about thirty million dollars to the Panamanian government since 1904. That sum does not include the twenty-five million dollars in gold that our government paid Colombia in 1921 as compensation for the loss of Panama, which had been a province of Colombia before our government took over. By the end of 1960, we will have paid approximately sixty-four million dollars for the right to use the canal zone. That is a truly gigantic sum for a strip of relatively infertile land, ten miles wide and fifty miles long, half of which is water.

“And now, gentlemen, if you think about the enormous sums of money that we pay Panama, which will probably increase considerably in the future, I ask you: Does our government have any guarantee that Panama will not demand the return of the canal zone one day, unexpectedly and without warning? Demand its return on the basis that the zone is an integral part of Panama—and therefore, ‘Foreigners, get out of Panama, especially Yankees.’”

“Miss Norval, I assure you that this will not happen.”

“Oh, it will not? Are you sure, Mr. Senator? Is it not a mistake to deny that the possibility exists? We do not have a permanent guarantee for our supposed rights in Panama. No guarantee and no security. What happened in Egypt a few years ago can happen in Panama any day.”

“Never, Miss Norval. Never. The circumstances are completely different and cannot be compared in any way, shape, or form with those of the Suez Canal.”

“I apologize, Mr. Chairman, I disagree. The circumstances are not as different as they might seem upon superficial examination.”