Marguerite showed up fifteen minutes early for the tea, wearing an uncharacteristically staid navy skirt and white blouse. She administered her usual kisses before spinning me around to examine my new dress. “Don’t you look glamorous!”
“It suits her perfectly,” Catherine said. “Not too dressy for daytime, but it will work for evenings with the right jewelry.”
Marguerite chucked me under the chin. “How could any young man resist this ravishing beauty?”
“Don’t get carried away,” Catherine said firmly. “She’s too young to get involved with anyone.”
“But not too young to have admirers and a bit of fun,” Marguerite protested.
Marguerite chuckled as I continually jumped up to peer out the front window at the slightest sound. “The Lao have a more relaxed sense of time, Vivi,” she said at last. “They are often quite late to appointments. It drove the last Resident Superior wild, as he was a very punctual man.”
Bounmy knocked on the door at five minutes past four, and I thought his relative promptness a good beginning. He wore a European suit of gray linen, a starched white shirt, and a sky-blue silk tie, appearing cool despite the afternoon heat. When he removed his straw boater, his thick dark hair was parted on one side and neatly combed in place with hair cream.
I introduced Catherine and Marguerite in a voice that sounded unnaturally high to my ears. He smiled, revealing his endearing dimples, and shook hands, murmuring in formal, slightly stilted French how delighted he was to meet them. We settled in the front salon as the fans whirled overhead.
Bounmy studied the room. “Your home is beautiful,” he remarked, perched on the edge of the settee, his back rigid, as if ready to bolt at any moment.
“Thank you,” Catherine said. “My parents built it when my father was first posted here with the government.”
Mali wheeled in the trolley with the best china teapot and cups, filled with platters of finger sandwiches and sliced mango, as well as small cakes and lemon tarts from Estelle’s Patisserie.
“Mademoiselle Dubois says you recently moved to Vientiane, Monsieur Savang,” Catherine said. “How do you like it here?”
“I’m enjoying exploring the area and local temples,” he answered, crossing his legs and resting his clasped hands on his knee. “I was only here once before, as a young child.”
“You work in the government administration, I understand,” Marguerite said.
“Yes, with Prince Phetsarath. I’m trying to develop opportunities for foreign trade.” He smiled ruefully. “Not an easy task given the state of the world economy at the moment.”
Mali passed cups of tea around. I noticed Bounmy’s cup rattle in the saucer as he set it down. Was he as nervous as I was?
Marguerite sat forward, plucking a lemon tart from the platter. “I first met Prince Phetsarath while he was collaborating with the Resident Superior on creating the School of Law and Administration for Lao students.”
“The prince is anxious to see more Lao trained for civil service positions, reducing the need to bring additional Annamese workers here,” Bounmy said, wearing a neutral expression, but I detected a touch of bitterness in his voice. “The latest census revealed there are more Annamese than Lao living in Vientiane at present.” He paused a moment. “It seems unfortunate.”
I remembered what Marguerite had told me about the government importing hundreds of Annamese to fill jobs because Lao workers were not well educated and lacked the same work ethic. I admired Bounmy for speaking out, especially given Marguerite’s position with the Resident Superior.
Marguerite pushed her hair behind one ear. “Understandably, it has caused concern among the Lao.”
Catherine offered sandwiches to Bounmy. “As a teacher, I believe it’s essential the colonial government provide better educational opportunities for the Lao. It’s been sorely lacking, particularly for girls.”
Bounmy nodded slowly. “There should be at least one public lycée in Laos. Otherwise, how will the Lao ever progress?”
Anger welled inside me again for this injustice inflicted by the French. The colonial government always arranged things to suit their needs rather than those of the Lao people.
“Monsieur Savang returned recently from school in Paris,” I said after an awkward silence.
Catherine smiled. “How long were you there?”
Bounmy’s voice became more animated. “I spent a year at the Lycée Montaigne, finishing my baccalauréat and improving my French, then attended the École Coloniale for three years, earning an administrative certificate.” He paused. “My father studied in Paris as a young man and was keen for me to do the same.”
“What does your father do?” Marguerite asked.
I winced. Surely Bounmy found their endless questions intrusive, like an interrogation of a suspected criminal.
“My father is Minister of the Treasury for the Kingdom of Luang Prabang,” he responded, as casually as if saying his father was a farmer in a small village.
Catherine’s head jerked up. “Then we should be addressing you as Prince Savang.”
He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “I prefer to leave my title for official business and court ceremonies.”
My heart sank. Bounmy was truly a prince, his father a key advisor to the king, part of the Front Palace that Marguerite had described. Our worlds could not be any farther removed from each other. Why would he take an interest in me?
“And how did you find Paris?” Catherine asked, sipping her tea.
His serious, intent face transformed into a dreamy expression, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Such a beautiful city. I had trouble concentrating on my studies with all the wonderful things to see and do. I’m afraid Laos feels rather small to me now.”
Marguerite shrugged. “Laos has its charms.”
We nibbled sandwiches and sweets, politely commenting on the ceremony at Wat Pha That Luang and the lack of respite from the hot weather and heavy rainstorms. As if on command, a crack of thunder permeated the room and a short deluge drenched the house and terrain outside, making us giggle at the coincidence.
When the conversation lagged again, Bounmy turned to me. “Did you take that position with the French family looking after the children?”
“No, I’m still searching for work.” I was too embarrassed to admit how humiliating my job hunt had proven.
Marguerite stood up unexpectedly. “I sorry to be so abrupt, but would you please excuse us, Monsieur Savang? I have something urgent to discuss with Mademoiselle Courbet.”
Catherine’s mouth gaped open. “But surely it can wait.”
Marguerite turned to me. “The garden will be lovely and cool after the shower. Why don’t you take your guest for a stroll?”
Catherine gave in reluctantly. “We’ll be in the library if you need us.”
Bounmy jumped up to shake hands with Marguerite and Catherine, appearing perplexed by their sudden departure. “Thank you for the nice afternoon. It’s a great pleasure to meet you both.”
I led Bounmy to the French doors at the end of the hallway leading into the lush garden. It amazed me how the extravagant plants and flowers flourished despite the extreme heat, with only unpredictable rains to replenish them. We strolled across the bridge, stopping at the top for a moment to watch the koi fish dart back and forth from shade to sunlight, their brilliant orange and red scales shimmering underwater. I searched for a way to describe my recent job interviews without sounding pathetic but came up short. No one at the orphanage had ever called me quiet or shy, yet somehow this man rendered me nearly mute.
“I hope I didn’t say something to offend Mademoiselles Vanier and Courbet,” Bounmy said at last, sticking his hands in his trouser pockets.
“Not at all. I believe Marguerite wanted to give us some time alone to talk.” We continued across the bridge to the bench under the banyan tree where I wiped away the rain.
“Tell me of the jobs you’ve applied for, Mademoiselle Dubois.”
I straightened my shoulders. “I’ve interviewed at a number of different businesses, but no one wants to hire someone so young and inexperienced.” I didn’t add and métis. “I’m good with numbers and earned top scores in mathematics at school, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.”
“Those are important skills. What about trying the elementary schools? There’s a great need for well-educated teachers.”
I sighed. “I was promised a teaching assistant position, but…it’s a long story.”
He turned his head to one side. “Please tell me.”
“Where should I start?” I described growing up in the orphanage, wondering where I had come from, who my parents were. My words tumbled out, steeped in the unhappiness of my confusing childhood. “I want to know the truth.” I hesitated, staring at my hands resting in my lap.
He leaned in, as if needing to better hear me. “Continue.”
I told him everything: about Director Bernard hiding the truth about my twin in Pakse; how he made sure the offer for the teaching assistant position was withdrawn; how I would be lost if it were not for Catherine. As I spoke, I looked into his dark, attentive eyes, noticing tiny gold specks in his left eye for the first time. And, although I strained to hold tears back, they escaped down my cheeks, a small sob erupting.
Bounmy started. “How could anyone be so cruel?” He handed me his handkerchief. “I’m so sorry.” His tender gaze made me want to lay my head on his shoulder to take comfort. “Your story is very disturbing,” he continued, “but I doubt the government will intervene. Let me talk with Prince Phetsarath about this. He carries a great deal of weight in this town.”
“I don’t want to trouble you.” I dabbed at my tears. “I wrote my brother in Pakse right away and the Assistance Society in Luang Prabang about my parents. I hope to hear back soon.”
“I’m not sure how to help, but if there is anything…please ask.” A large blue butterfly hovered near us before changing course and landing on a purple bloom. “The least I can do is assist you in finding employment. This evening I’ll call my cousin Kham Savang, who I mentioned before. I feel sure he can find a position for you.”
“Thank you.” I drew in a ragged breath. “You must find me pitiful.”
“Not in the least. You’ve been treated very unfairly,” he said.
I managed a small smile. “Tell me more about Paris. My friend Bridgette and I hope to go to university there one day.”
“You would love it.” His gaze drifted out over the garden, and his face relaxed, as if he were recalling a pleasant dream. “I shared an apartment with four cousins. The youngest didn’t take his studies seriously and was sent home after failing half his courses, so the rest of us learned from his mistake and worked very hard. The professors opened my eyes to the many wonders of the world—miraculous places and events I’d never heard of before. I studied in cafés, drinking endless cups of coffee, or sometimes in the parks. My cousins and I wandered in search of inexpensive restaurants, trying different kinds of food, or we went to the cinema and musical concerts. On my one free day each week I wandered through museums, studying art.” He smiled. “You can imagine how difficult it was to stay focused on lessons.”
“What was your favorite place?”
He pursed his lips for a moment. “Hmm, impossible to choose. The Louvre is a remarkable museum with paintings and sculptures that amaze and inspire. And I loved sitting in the Luxembourg Gardens—right across the street from the École Coloniale—watching the world go by as I studied.”
“And the Parisians, were they nice?”
He chuckled softly. “They regarded us as a novelty, rather like a strange species escaped from the zoo. Many stared at us without the least hesitation.” His expression turned somber. “Some people were friendly, but many made impolite remarks about the color of our skin or our oriental features. They were incredulous upon discovering we spoke French and understood their comments.” He smoothed the top of his hair, which had begun to break free of the hair cream and fall over his brow. “Once a little girl asked me how I could see anything when my eyes were such tiny slits.”
“How awful. What did you do?”
“I found it best to ignore these things.” He gave a wry smile. “It was a humbling experience after growing up in the royal court, spoiled, and being told that I’m superior to others. It’s a shame—most people in France have never heard of Laos and have no idea where it is.”
“That’s so sad…and unfair.”
“Have you heard about the International Colonial Exposition that opened this week in Paris?” he asked. I shook my head. “It’s meant to inform the public about colonies around the world, not only those of France but other European nations and the United States. I was sorry to miss it and not see how the Indochine colonies are portrayed. Prince Phetsarath helped organize displays on Laos.”
“It strikes me as terribly wrong that the people and cultures of these colonies are being turned into entertainment, exhibits in a museum.”
“I agree. But at least the Occidentals will know we exist and hopefully better appreciate our people.”
“Would you go back to Paris?” I asked.
“I’d like to one day.” His sparkling eyes met mine. “If I have the proper traveling companion.”