The Quiet American Page #3

a successful businessman?

I'm afraid not. He... He's a professor.

A teacher. But a man of importance?

To the few

who consider teaching important.

Is he coming here?

I would like to make his acquaintance.

Do you have another sister?

You know I have not. Why?

Because you're cross-examining this

young man like a hungry marriage broker.

Do you have any particular bride in mind?

I have only one sister.

Exactly.

She needs to be secure.

She deserves to be secure.

She is good and very, very loyal.

Well, I must be going back to my friends.

I would like to meet you again.

Well, maybe we could all

have dinner together,

when Mr. Fowler gets back from the north.

When are you going to the north?

Very soon. Dominguez thinks

I ought to take a look at the war.

Then you must have dinner

with me and my sister

when Mr. Fowler is away. Good night.

She certainly speaks English well.

She makes herself understood.

We could finish to dance now, if you like.

If I like?

Well, uh,

dinner will be served at any instant.

It should be here by now.

When it will arrive, we will finish.

I might very well

have been there as a chaperone.

It was a role I didn't want to play.

To wear a smile and a look that said,

"Enjoy yourselves.

I like to watch you dance. "

Suddenly, I felt an uneasiness.

I wished I'd never heard the rumor

about the battle in the north.

I wished for Dominguez to tell me

it was only a rumor after all

and I didn't have to go.

But there I was,

about a week after our dinner

at the Rendezvous.

I wondered how long Phuong's sister

had waited before she called.

Oh, I'm sorry.

The noise of the mortar fire

has made you awake.

I wasn't sleeping.

They will not attack tonight in any case.

It is too close to daylight.

But we continue to break up

their concentrations.

Concentrations, my eye.

Your eye, Monsieur Granger?

Commies are concentrated

exactly one to a tree,

knocking off your mortar teams

like sitting ducks.

Let them run their own war, Granger,

it's the French who are dying.

Too many French are dying

that don't have to die.

They're my friends. I can't be unconcerned

about friends who die unnecessary deaths.

Unnecessary?

What do you mean?

I mean the defense of this country

that was conceived in the 19th century

and being fought in the 20th,

from Beau Geste forts that were built

a generation before the trenches of Verdun.

I had no idea you were, um,

a military analyst.

I am sure our battle command will want

to consult you before making further plans.

Your command here

has no authority to make plans.

They're made in Paris,

just as they were in the 19th century

and transmitted to you, isn't that so?

Shortly after dawn,

there will be a low altitude inspection flight

for the journalists.

You will require some sleep.

In other words, dismissed.

That's what I get

for not drinking on the job.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm sober.

One would never know.

You carry sobriety well.

Where's your faithful English nanny?

I may have to get a new one.

This nanny drinks too much.

Hey!

Wake up, cousin. It's time to go beddy-bye.

Yankee swine.

That's my boy. Up you go.

By the way,

what is that book you were reading?

I was wondering.

The poetry of Lamartine.

It is a comfort to me.

An escape, like whiskey, or...

It is of the 19th century.

What do you suppose they're up to?

And why would they send an American

of all people?

Hello, there.

- Do you know this man, Monsieur Fowler?

- I think I do.

I'm sure glad you're not asleep.

It took me longer than I figured.

I've got to get that jeep

back to Hanoi by morning.

What were you doing in Hanoi?

I was a stowaway, to tell the truth,

of one of our medical aid teams.

Remember I told you I wanted to come up

and get a look at it for myself firsthand.

I regret that I cannot supply a guide.

And, um, why did you come here

from Hanoi?

I just thought I'd drive down.

See Mr. Fowler.

You just thought...

You drove past I do not know how many

communist patrols.

Through our own bombardment of roads.

Is this to be believed?

It is to be believed.

Was that the French bombardment?

Well, it sure is accurate.

Some places the whole road was gone.

I had to guess where it picked up again.

Thank you for the compliment.

And, uh, someday,

when there is peace and time for it,

perhaps you will take my hand

and walk with me across the water

to America.

Well, the communists control

the roads at night.

What if they'd caught you

and cut your throat?

That's why I borrowed a jeep

with a big red cross painted on it.

They'd be sure to know

I was a non-combatant.

Of course.

Well, when you go on that walk

with the Colonel,

let me take your other hand.

- Well, anyway, I'm here.

- Yes, to see me. What about?

What does that mean?

It'll be dawn pretty soon.

The communist troops

vanish in the daytime.

They hide their uniforms and become

peace-loving, neutral third force peasants.

I didn't come to talk politics.

Good.

It's so quiet suddenly.

I... I think I'm in love with Phuong.

Is that what you came here to tell me?

I had to.

Couldn't it have waited

till I got back to Saigon?

I couldn't have stayed away

from her for that long.

You mean you have stayed away?

I wanted to tell you about it first.

Wouldn't be fair otherwise.

And all's fair in love and war.

Communists don't fire

at the red cross on jeeps, and...

When did you think you fell in love?

That night at the Rendezvous,

dancing with her.

I guess it really started earlier when

she got mixed up with the girls at the bar.

I felt sick thinking about her

winding up like that.

Her sister invited you out, didn't she,

after I left?

Yes, but I kept away. It wasn't easy.

But it was only fair.

Naturally, if you were married to Phuong,

it would be different.

I wouldn't come

between a man and his wife.

You seem pretty certain

that you can come between.

That's for her to decide.

You got a cigarette?

Keep the pack, I've got some more.

I asked for one cigarette, not economic aid.

I don't want to be impressed

by how many packs you've got.

It's just that I still have half a carton

back in Hanoi and you've run out.

I can't marry her. I have a wife at home.

She would never divorce me.

She's high church, if you know what I mean.

Episcopalian. I am too.

We've got that in common.

Not with me, you haven't.

You and my wife.

I have no church.

Would you marry Phuong?

Of course.

A woman's entitled

to the security of marriage.

Her sister's words.

Everything her sister says is not

automatically wrong.

Because she thinks you're rich

and I'm poor.

She's wrong there, all right.

Haven't got a nickel.

Oh, but you have the infinite riches

of respectability and youth.

I envy you that.

But I intend to keep Phuong.

I intend to keep her.

Well, however it works out.

We both have her interests at heart.

I'm fed to the teeth with your

brothers-under-the-skin dribble about

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