The Colors of Infamy (10 page)

All around them the discussions grew louder and the general euphoria increased as the night progressed and the air filled with the fragrant smoke of hashish and tobacco wafting from the hookahs. Ossama had neither Karamallah's rigor nor his self-control and it was difficult for him to contain his delight. He had the impression, as in a frightening dream, that he would not be able to stifle a burst of laughter much longer. He was responsible for a mission that was to end in a blazing grand finale for the man of precarious buildings, and it behooved him to maintain an attitude in keeping with his role as a student with newly attributed princely obligations. Until the moment he was to reveal to Suleyman the fate that had befallen his letter, he was forbidden to give himself over to the joys of irony. His impassioned youth was urging him not to delay the moment any longer; he wondered if Karamallah had learned enough from this dignitary of a villainous order, or if he wanted to feast on
all
the colors of infamy.

Suleyman noticed Ossama's weariness and his desire to get on with it, so he spoke directly to the young man.

“So then, Prince, shall we discuss the letter?” he said in a friendly but determined tone of voice. “I assume you have it on you.”

“Indeed, yes,” answered Ossama, “one could say I have it on me. And in a way that you will never guess.”

“Well, show it to me,” said Suleyman somewhat nervously. He seemed to realize that something out of the ordinary was being plotted against him and that this thing was about to destroy forever his serenity as an untouchable citizen.

“It's not that simple,” said Ossama evasively, as if he were speaking to a child pestering him with questions. “What's the hurry? Aren't you enjoying our company?”

Suleyman made an effort to control himself and seemed to reflect.
Th
e conversation with the prince had become more and more opaque, and he felt his mental abilities faltering in the face of so many evasions and recurring enigmas.

“We must agree on something in the end. I'm not going to stay here all night, despite the pleasure I find in your company. I am a businessman and my time is precious. Kindly tell me what it is you require to return the letter to me.”

“I've already told you; I don't want a thing. I have this letter on me and it will never leave me. It is my amulet. Since I found it, I no longer fear anything. I'll let you be the judge: the very day I picked it up on the sidewalk, a taxi that was driving by as usual with the hope of doing away with a few pedestrians almost mowed me down. I realized then that I had been saved from a horrible death by the magic radiating from this letter.”

“
Th
e nerve! I forbid you to fool around with my letter!”

Ossama opened his shirt and exhibited a leather case hanging around his neck on a thin silver chain.

“Your letter is here. I'm still too young for my honor to be credible. So I am counting on you and your honor, which has been legitimated and recognized by all the authorities, to serve as my alibi should anything go wrong.”

Suleyman was overcome with anger; his face became swollen and took on a greenish cast. He looked like a balloon inflated with the breath of hell. He leaned over the table and, in a voice that threatened Ossama and, beyond him, all the rebels of the planet, said:

“Tell me, Prince. Are you not a thief?”

Ossama stood up, bowed ceremoniously, and answered in a humble voice filled with contrition:

“A very small thief compared to you, Excellency!”

Nimr burst out laughing, and his laughter was like no other — a revolutionary laughter, the laughter of someone who has just discovered the ignoble and grotesque face of the powerful of this world.

Copyright © 2000 by Albert Cossery
Translation copyright ©
2011 by Alyson Waters

Originally published by Editions
Gallimard / Editions Joelle Losfeld, Paris, France, in 1999, as
Les couleurs
de l'infamie
. Published by arrangement with Editions Gallimard,
Editions Joelle Losfeld, Agence Hoffman, Paris, and The Colchie Agency.

All rights reserved. Except for brief
passages quoted in a newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or website review,
no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic,
or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information
storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
Publisher.

New Directions gratefully acknowledges
the support of a Hemingway Grant and a CNL Award. •
Cet ouvrage, publié dans le
cadre d'un programme d'aide à la publication, bénéficie du soutien du
Ministère des Affaires étrangères et du Service Culturel de l'Ambassade de
France aux États-Unis.
• This work, published as part of a program of
aid for production, received support from the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs
and the Cultural Services of the French Embassy in the United States.

This work is published with support from
the French Ministry of Culture /
Centre national du
livre.

Translator's Note
: Thanks to Donald Nicholson-Smith, Gwenaël
Kerlidou, and Emmanuelle Ertel for input and insight.

Published simultaneously in Canada by
Penguin Books Canada, Ltd.
First published as a New Directions Paperbook
(NDP1215) in 2011.
Design by Erik Rieselbach

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Cossery, Albert, 1913–2008.

[Couleurs de l'infamie. English]

The colors of infamy / Albert Cossery ;
translated from the French by Alyson Waters.

p. cm. — (New Directions paperbook ;
1215)

eISBN 978-0-8112-2125-2

I. Waters, Alyson, 1955– II. Title.

PQ2605.O725C6413 2011

843'.912—dc23 2011023265

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

New Directions Books are published for
James Laughlin
by New Directions Publishing Corporation
80 Eighth
Avenue, New York, NY 10011