Castle To Castle Part 10

He goes out, he closes the door behind him . . .

"Doctor, you've seen that man? . . . he has been in our employ for twenty-two years . . . a traitor for twenty-two years! . . . he betrays us! . . . he betrays you! . . . he denounces everybody to everybody! . . . he has betrayed England! Holland! Switzerland! Russia . . . he's worse than Father Gapon! worse than Laval, worse than Petain! He denounces everything! everybody! I've saved his life twenty times, Doctor! Twenty times I've had orders to liquidate him . . . Neuneuil! I could have him shot on the spot! . . . He wrote to the English! . . . wanted them to kidnap Laval! . . . yes! . . . those are the people you listen to, Doctor! All traitors, Jews! plots in the Castle! . . . do you realize that?"

"I'm listening, Major! I'm all ears! . . . why yes, you're perfectly right . . ."

You can imagine, he could have told me I was a Mongol, I wasn't going to contradict him . . .

"Well, Doctor, just one thing . . . between you and me . . ."

He starts telling me the one thing . . . he stops . . . he starts up again . . . ah, here it comes . . .

"Maybe you know it, maybe you don't . . . I've had Menetrel arrested . . . I could have them all arrested! . . . no! . . . the whole Castle! . . . but all the same . . . I ought to . . . they deserve it! . . . all of them, Doctor! and you too! . . . and Luchaire! and your Jew Brinon! and all the rest of the Jews in the Castle! this Castle is a ghetto! . . . do you know that?"

"Certainly, Major. Of course I know it!"

"You don't seem to give a d.a.m.n! But the Jews will get you!"

"You too, Major . , . they'll get you too!"

We were almost laughing . . . Such a whimsical future!

"Then would you please . . . would you kindly give me another injection? That charming man has fatigued me . . ."

"So I noticed, Major . . . so I noticed . . ."

"But don't murder me, Doctor! . . . not yet!"

We start laughing! . . . we're doubled up!

"Major, I wish to inform you that I don't murder anybody . . . neither here nor anywhere else! I've never let a single patient die! . . . however, in view of the circ.u.mstances . . . the conditions . . . as long as we're having this little talk . . . I should like to point out that these 2 c.c.s of camphorated oil that I'm going to inject were not procured from your Hof Hof Richter Richter Apotek Apotek . . . oh no! . . . Richter always tells me he hasn't got any! . . . you know everything, you must know that I get this camphorated oil from Switzerland! and that I pay a fortune for it! . . . I get it through a 'runner'! My own money! Not Adolf Hitler's! not the Reich's! . . . you who know everything . . . you know my room is full of gold . . . you'd love to seize it! like Leclerc's Senegalese! but you never will! because you know perfectly well that if you did there'd be no more camphorated oil for you! . . ." . . . oh no! . . . Richter always tells me he hasn't got any! . . . you know everything, you must know that I get this camphorated oil from Switzerland! and that I pay a fortune for it! . . . I get it through a 'runner'! My own money! Not Adolf Hitler's! not the Reich's! . . . you who know everything . . . you know my room is full of gold . . . you'd love to seize it! like Leclerc's Senegalese! but you never will! because you know perfectly well that if you did there'd be no more camphorated oil for you! . . ."

"You mean I should be grateful to you, Doctor? Is that it?"

"You certainly should be, Major!"

"Very well, Doctor, you have all my grat.i.tude! stimmt! stimmt! but in that case I've got a little something to ask of you! It means a lot to me! you who like certificates so much . . . I want you to attest the behavior of this Boisnieres! . . . that you witnessed it, that I should have shot him! and didn't! that he positively defied me! Did he or didn't he? . . ." but in that case I've got a little something to ask of you! It means a lot to me! you who like certificates so much . . . I want you to attest the behavior of this Boisnieres! . . . that you witnessed it, that I should have shot him! and didn't! that he positively defied me! Did he or didn't he? . . ."

"Yes, yes, Major! it's a fact . . . but lie down . . . and strip again! your pants . . . just your pants . . ."

I give him another shot . . . in the b.u.t.tock . . . and I pick up my equipment . . . ampuls . . . cotton . . . syringe . . . we hear voices outside . . . arguing . . . down below. . . on our landing again . . . always on our landing . . . they're starting up again . . .

"Where can my wife be?"

"Just don't move, Major! your injection! . . . stay right where you are . . . at least five minutes . . . I'll go see . . ."

I open the door . . . Neuneuil is there . . . haranguing the crowd . . . over the bannister . . . he hasn't even gone downstairs . . . everybody on the landing . . . our landing . . .they're giving him the needle . . . the cracks come thick and fast! . . . they'd heard everything . . . the clouts! . . . and the names Raumnitz had called him! ho ho Neuneuil! . . . wise guy! his puss! . . . his bandage! . . . sure took a flier! . . .

"Whyn't you go back? ladyfinger! flannelmouth! . . . go on in! . . . spank him! . . . spank him! . . . he's used to it! . . . take his pants down! . . . eunuch! . . ."

Plenty of encouragement! . . . but oh no, he didn't want to go back! he wanted everybody to listen to him! . . . first . . . but neither the crowd downstairs, nor the crowd upstairs, wanted to listen . . . n.o.body wanted to listen . . . so Neuneuil starts going down . . . one step . . . two steps . . . he comes down to them . . ."Let me through . . . I'm going to the doctor's . . ." Lili is in our room . . . No. 11 . . . she lets him in . . . she hands him his box, he'd left it there . . . his card file . . . all Siegmaringen on cards . . . and they start hollering some more . . . on the landing! . . . calling him a c.o.c.ksucking eunuch because he won't go up and slug Raumnitz! the brute! the Obercopfuhrer! Obercopfuhrer! all he cares about is his card file! he doesn't give a hoot about the rest! . . . "Listen to me, the whole lot of you . . . bunch of punks! . . . get this! . . . I'm Neuneuil! And I s.h.i.t on all of you! . . . I'm Neuneuil! . . . stinkers! motherf.u.c.kers! My message to you is s.h.i.t! the whole lot of you! these hardships magnify me! I'll come back from Berlin stronger than ever . . . and more formidable!" all he cares about is his card file! he doesn't give a hoot about the rest! . . . "Listen to me, the whole lot of you . . . bunch of punks! . . . get this! . . . I'm Neuneuil! And I s.h.i.t on all of you! . . . I'm Neuneuil! . . . stinkers! motherf.u.c.kers! My message to you is s.h.i.t! the whole lot of you! these hardships magnify me! I'll come back from Berlin stronger than ever . . . and more formidable!"

"Boo! Boo! flatfoot! . . . go get yourself b.u.g.g.e.red . . . in Berlin! Slug! . . . Garbage pail! . . ."

The whole landing was yelling . . . but they let him through . . . him and his card file . . . clutched tight . . . he shows it to them! he thumps on it! . . . "Yes, this is my card file! . . . you stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! . . . and everybody in Siegmaringen is in it! . . . nitwits! . . . I'll entertain them in Berlin! . . . I, Neuneuil! fishing for trout! Ha!"

He looks back, up toward the landing . . . he shakes his fist at Raumnitz! . . . he defies him! . . . the Obercopfuhrer! Obercopfuhrer!. . . . and those characters who'd been advising him to go spank him . . . all of a sudden . . . zip! zip! . . . they changetheir minds . . . the fun's over . . . they let Neuneuil leave . . . the hysterical stupid bigmouth! . . . he could wear out Raumnitz's patience! a guy like that is a menace! He had no trouble getting down the stairs . . . they let him through all right! . . . like they'd let the cholera through! they let him split with his card file! . . . n.o.body holds him back, n.o.body! the crowd melts away . . . not a peep . . . they all go down to the . . . they changetheir minds . . . the fun's over . . . they let Neuneuil leave . . . the hysterical stupid bigmouth! . . . he could wear out Raumnitz's patience! a guy like that is a menace! He had no trouble getting down the stairs . . . they let him through all right! . . . like they'd let the cholera through! they let him split with his card file! . . . n.o.body holds him back, n.o.body! the crowd melts away . . . not a peep . . . they all go down to the Stam Stam . . . the Strasbourgeois, the . . . the Strasbourgeois, the Volkssturm Volkssturm, the housewives . . . a minute ago bedlam outside our door . . . people for me, people for the c.r.a.pper . . . Suddenly a vacuum! All of a sudden they couldn't even stand the sight of Neuneuil! . . . n.o.body left on the landing but me . . . he calls me from downstairs . . . to come down . . . he wanted to speak to me . . . I go down . . .

"What do you say, Doctor? You saw them! . . . they've got the green s.h.i.ts, the whole lot of them! . . . and that stinker up there, Doctor! .'. . the brute! the stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d! fishing for trout! he's liquidated me! Okay! He's shipping me out . . . he'll see me again! . . . ah, he thinks he's getting rid of me! you'll see me again too, Doctor! I embrace you!"

He was in tears . . . he really shoves off . . . not in the direction of the station . . . or in the opposite direction . . . the Fidelis Fidelis . . . oh no! . . . the road that goes up the hill . . . the road to Berlin . . . to the right as you leave the hotel, then left . . . . . . oh no! . . . the road that goes up the hill . . . the road to Berlin . . . to the right as you leave the hotel, then left . . . Herzogga.s.se Herzogga.s.se . . . the little alley . . . I motion to the . . . the little alley . . . I motion to the schuppo schuppo at the door . . . that it's okay . . . he should let him go . . . the at the door . . . that it's okay . . . he should let him go . . . the schuppo schuppo had wanted to turn him back . . . had wanted to turn him back . . . nein! nein! nein! nein! . . . that he's going to Berlin for Raumnitz! . . . on foot! . . . that it's absolutely secret! Hush! Hush! I motion him to tell the other . . . that he's going to Berlin for Raumnitz! . . . on foot! . . . that it's absolutely secret! Hush! Hush! I motion him to tell the other schuppo schuppo . . . the one across the street . . . top secret! . . . and I talk to the . . . the one across the street . . . top secret! . . . and I talk to the schuppo schuppo . . . . . . "Raumnitz befehl! "Raumnitz befehl! . . . . . . gut! gut! gut! gut! . . .". . . it's okay! they let Neuneuil pa.s.s . . . he shoves off . . . very chipper, I've got to admit . . . at a good clip, with his card file under his arm . . . "Good luck, Doctor!" . . . He's all alone on the road . . . he disappears not far away . . . behind the trees . . . the trees right after the . . .". . . it's okay! they let Neuneuil pa.s.s . . . he shoves off . . . very chipper, I've got to admit . . . at a good clip, with his card file under his arm . . . "Good luck, Doctor!" . . . He's all alone on the road . . . he disappears not far away . . . behind the trees . . . the trees right after the Prinzenbau Prinzenbau . . . the road uphill . . . . . . the road uphill . . .

h.e.l.l, I didn't want to go out . . . but I had to . . . not the same day but the next . . . to get the sc.r.a.ps for Bebert . . . and while I was at the Landrat's Landrat's, drop in on Madame Bonnard . . . I've told you about her, my aged patient, ninety-six years old, very frail and delicate, very sick . . . what charm! what distinction! what a memory! Legouve by heart! all his poetry! . . . all Musset . . . all Marivaux . . . it was pleasant in her room, I stayed to listen to her, I kept her company, she charmed me . . . I admired her . . . I've got to admit, I haven't admired women much in spite of my skirt-chasing life . . . but there I was appreciative . . . I don't know if Arletty will affect me the same way later on . . . maybe . . . the great feminine mystery has nothing to do with a.s.s . . . The Baudeloque and Tarnier clinics, all the maternity hospitals in the world, are chock-full of feminine mysteries . . . that sp.a.w.n, bleed, confess, and scream! no mystery at all! the real feminine mystery is a different wavelength much more subtle than "c.u.n.ts and loving hearts" . . . a kind of background music . . . not so easy to tune in on . . . Madame Bonnard, the only patient I ever lost, had those fine lacy waves . . . how well she recited Du Bellay . . . Charles d'Orleans . . . Louise Labe . . . with her I almost came to understand certain waves . . . my novels would be entirely different . . . she's gone . . .

Getting back to our Lowen Lowen . . . after Neuneuil's departure we had a practically quiet week . . . only three air-raid alarms . . . and two emergencies at the . . . after Neuneuil's departure we had a practically quiet week . . . only three air-raid alarms . . . and two emergencies at the Fidelis Fidelis . . . not bad . . . but it was starting to get cold . . . October 1944 . . . so they dreamed up a magnificent idea at the castle . . . far-sighted . . . "firewood commandos" . . . it consisted of sending volunteers to pick up sticks, dead wood, and stumps and bring it all back in enormous bundles . . . the volunteers were all in harness . . . hauling the stuff back! on the double! let's go! . . . men and women, young and old! all in harness! and singing! Volunteers? a manner of speaking . . . willing . . . not willing? Same difference . . . all in harness . . . the Firewood Commandos . . . raise the morale of the hesitant . . . "Strength through Joy!" . . . the great Fourth Reich is dead with all its people and houses and Beethoven too! "Strength through Joy" chorus! Symphonic nation! Christ! Your Frenchman isn't very symphonic, those joyous "all out for brushwood" commandos made them more skeptical than ever . . . they'd hide under their beds . . . especially because the place they were taken to was in the middle of the Black Forest right near Cissen, the camp where they sent our babies . . . that was the site picked for the voluntary labors of the forest commandos . . . the pioneer brushwood collectors . . . . . . not bad . . . but it was starting to get cold . . . October 1944 . . . so they dreamed up a magnificent idea at the castle . . . far-sighted . . . "firewood commandos" . . . it consisted of sending volunteers to pick up sticks, dead wood, and stumps and bring it all back in enormous bundles . . . the volunteers were all in harness . . . hauling the stuff back! on the double! let's go! . . . men and women, young and old! all in harness! and singing! Volunteers? a manner of speaking . . . willing . . . not willing? Same difference . . . all in harness . . . the Firewood Commandos . . . raise the morale of the hesitant . . . "Strength through Joy!" . . . the great Fourth Reich is dead with all its people and houses and Beethoven too! "Strength through Joy" chorus! Symphonic nation! Christ! Your Frenchman isn't very symphonic, those joyous "all out for brushwood" commandos made them more skeptical than ever . . . they'd hide under their beds . . . especially because the place they were taken to was in the middle of the Black Forest right near Cissen, the camp where they sent our babies . . . that was the site picked for the voluntary labors of the forest commandos . . . the pioneer brushwood collectors . . .

Their civilian occupation didn't matter . . . what counted was their good will . . . they should bring back all the wood, the whole forest, every dead twig, for the winter . . . that's all we'd have! the town halls . . . Boche and French . . . had warned us! no fuel allotment . . . we shouldn't expect any . . .

h.e.l.l, there was still a war going on . . . no time to argue . . . a wood-burning truck waited for the volunteers outside the town hall (Prinzenbau) . . . at a rather early hour, six-fifteen . . . it took them out . . . not back . . . had to get back by their own resources . . . sportsmen autonomous . . harnessed to tree trunks . . . the Volga . . . Buchenwald . . the Great Wall of China . . . Na.s.ser and the Pyramids . . the same racket! swift kicks in the a.s.s are nothing new! . . . a job of work! and in cadence! . . . and no goldbricking! . . . heave ho! Volga barges, Pyramids! heave! ho! heave! ho! The "volunteers" were expected to report at six-fifteen . . . outside our town hall (the The "volunteers" were expected to report at six-fifteen . . . outside our town hall (the Prinzenbau Prinzenbau) . . .

"Ah, Celine! . . . Celine! . . . my dear Celine! . . . you're the man I've been looking for! . . ."

At last I had a chance to go out . . . n.o.body on the landing . . . everybody in the restaurant . . .

"Ah,Celine! . . . Celine!"

I said to myself: the nut's coming up here! . . . and not alone . . . with a lady . . . a young lady . . . they've come up to see me . . . I let them in . . .

"Celine . . . Celine . . . I need you . . . I've just come from Brinon's . . . he's given his okay . . . you'll do the scenario . . . naturally I'll do the dialogue! . . . it's in the bag . . . I've just seen Laval, he's all for it! I'm the producer and director, see? are you with us? . . . we're getting a camera from Leipzig! . . . the Russians have given their okay, ah, Celine, that authorization from the Russians, you can't imagine! But I've finally got it!"

He beats his breast . . . his pocket . . . where he keeps his billfold . . . with the authorization . . .

"I'll do it all myself . . . the cutting . . . the dialogue . . . everything! . . . the trouble we've had . . . Leipzig, imagine! . . . Leipzig! but you'll be quick about your scenario! very quick, Celine! I've got to see Laval again tomorrow! it's got to be ready! he's given his okay . . ."

The lady . . . his wife no doubt . . . didn't say a word . . . she lets him talk . . . he talks all right . . . the vehemence! the flow! he can't keep still! . . . one foot! . . . the other foot . . . he marks time . . . and revolves! . . . and gesticulates! . . . the pa.s.sion, the frenzy! . . . as if he were selling something! . . . ah, suddenly he stops short . . . he realizes . . .

"Oh, forgive me . . . forgive me . . . forgive me, Celine . . . I'd forgotten my wife! . . . our star! . . . she's going to be our star . . . let me introduce you . . . Odette Clarisse . . ."

"Bonjour, Madame!"

I hadn't really looked at her . . . but her hat! not a bad little dip . . . panama with flowers . . . and a veil! . . . can you imagine? a veil? . . . at that moment in history? . . . in Germany at that time!

"Odette will be our star . . . it's settled . . . Brinon is agreed."

"Oh, splendid, splendid!"

"Odette, say h.e.l.lo to Madame Celine!"

Not a bad little number . . . I take a better look . . . she's dressed like a star . . . a star of the period, half-Marlene, half-Arletty . . . close-fitting skirt . . . the smile, too . . . a star! sure thing! that smile! . . . half-pixie, half-"I am going to commit suicide" . . . it was certainly the right time to end it all . . . but there was still a mystery . . . how had he come by a flowery hat with a veil, alligator shoes, handbag ditto, and sheer silk stockings in a Germany on fire? . . . that must have been quite an undertaking! outfitting this cutie! . . . when in all Germany right then you couldn't find a hairpin! . . . where had he come by all that? . . . and how had he brought his star here from Dresden? . . . and not only the girl . . . the way they were both spiffed out! . . . him in corduroy riding breeches," turtleneck sweater, leather puttees, shoes with triple soles! really a mystery! . . . and brushed and polished! . . . spotless . . . both of them . . . ready for the cameras . . . I knew him from the Fidelis Fidelis; I'd treated him for sinus trouble . . . and here he was, completely cured! health! vitality! . . . tops! . . . Raoul . . . that was his name . . . Raoul Orphize . . . he'd gone to Dresden . . . the Mecca of the arts, meanwhile burned down . . . 200,000 dead . . . they'd left Dresden for Munich . . . and then Leipzig . . . and then back again to Dresden . . . Dresden in ashes! and now he was going to make a movie in Siegmaringen . . . oh, he'd thought it all out . . . the sequences, the rhythm! . . . I had only to follow his ideas, his cine-technic construction . . . "daily life in Siegmaringen" . . . Brinon at work . . . the printing press and editorial office of the newspaper La France, the editors at work . . . "Radio-Siegmar" broadcasting; the studio, the technicians . . . the Milice Milice drilling! . . . and myself with patients! Petain, his outing! . . . children playing! . . . and fathers and mothers playing too, playing bowls! joy forever! good humor! drilling! . . . and myself with patients! Petain, his outing! . . . children playing! . . . and fathers and mothers playing too, playing bowls! joy forever! good humor! Kraft dutch Freude! Kraft dutch Freude! everywhere and always! Joy! everywhere and always! Joy!

"I hear you've been depressed, Celine . . . is that true?"

"Of course not! Not at all! Good gracious! not depressed! even keel, that's the word! . . . my profession! . . . serious! . . . perhaps a little overworked! . . . but no more! . . . no more, Orphize!"

I don't want him to go blabbing all over the place . . . Orphize looks very much like a cop to me-if he wants to know . . . I won't tell him . . . people with high morale always scare me in the first place . . . and in the second place the way he's dressed? . . . where's he come from? . . . with all that stuff? brand new! . . . that jacket? breeches, puttees, shoes with triple soles? he was in rags like the rest of us at the Fidelis . . . and all that vim and vigor and that "ensemble" of hers? . . . the little plaid skirt, the embroidered blouse . . . where'd all that stuff come from? . . . made me think . . . memories . . . of the market in Chatou in 1900 . . . the little girls with their mothers . . .

"Where does all that elegance come from, Orphize?"

I couldn't help asking him.

"By parachute, Celine!"

Wise guy! . . . I didn't insist . . .

"Then I can count on you, Celine? it's okay with Brinon . . . the scenario tomorrow morning? . . . I'll see Le Vigan . . . I'll see Luchaire . . . I'll give them their parts . . . your wife will have a part, too! . . . oh, a splendid part! . . . by your side . . . as a nurse! . . . ah, and as a dancer too! you get the picture? . . . okay? . . . I can count on you?"

"Yes, yes . . . certainly! but where are you going to shoot?"

"In the street, of course! . . . in the street!"

I wasn't going to tell him that the street wasn't a very healthyplace . . . more on the mean side . . . bullets flying . . . He was too hopped up to tell him that . . .

"Ah, but wait! the main thing! I need a visa . . . from von Raumnitz . . . I don't know this von Raumnitz . . . where does he hang out? . . . a mere formality . . . a rubber stamp . . ."

"Upstairs . . . right above us . . . next landing . . . Room 28! Just knock! . . . You'll find him . . ."

"Is this Raumnitz in a good humor?"

"So so . . . you may find him a little tired . . ."

"My word! You're all falling apart around here! I'll put Raumnitz in my picture too! . . . your Raumnitz! definitely! . . . and that morale of yours? that morale? I'll have you smiling yet, Celine! Come, come! I need you, Celine! . . . But not with that Ash Wednesday face! . . . the picture is going to be shown in France! Do you realize? in France! . . . more than a hundred theaters! . . . your mother, your daughter, your friends . . . they'll all see it! . . . a real attraction! and your friends! . . . you have friends in France, Celine . . . many more than you think! . . . you didn't know? . . . who admire you . . . who love you! . . . who are waiting for you! . . . crowds of friends! . . . don't be depressed, Celine . . . pull yourself together . . . all France hasn't gone Jewish! you can't imagine how they detest the Gaullists in France! you didn't know? my, oh, my! and how they love Petain! . . . you've no idea! . . . more than Clemenceau! . . . you'll write an article for me in La France La France? . . . how about it?"

"Certainly, certainly, Orphize!"

I can't stop him.

"Just as they told me . . . 'Celine's morale is really shot . . .' That's what they told me . . . come along now! you're not going to back down on your principles . . . my word! . . . I'll be going upstairs now . . . back in a minute . . . you'll wait for me? . . . Room 28, you say?"

'Yes, yes, his name is on the door: Raumnitz!"

"Come along, Odette . . ."

He doesn't wait . . . he tugs Odette by the arm . . . and up the stairs! knock knock knock knock . . . . . . herein! herein! And there they go . . . And there they go . . .

I don't surprise easily, but there . . . I've got to admit . . . Orphize, Odette . . . the veil, the alligator handbag, the triple soles! . . . and coming from Leipzig! . . . from Dresden! . . . especially as I knew a thing or two about Dresden . . . I'd seen the Consul from Dresden a week before . . . the last consul of the Vichy government . . . he'd told me all about it . . . the tactic of total squashing and frying in phosphorus . . . American invention! . . . really perfected! the last "new look" before the A-bomb . . . first the suburbs, the periphery . . . with liquid sulphur and avalanches of torpedoes . . . then general roasting . . . the whole center! Act II . . . churches, parks, museums . . . no survivors wanted! . . .

They talk about fires in mines . . . Ill.u.s.trations and interviews! . . . they weep, they jerk off about the poor miners . . . those treacherous fires and explosions! . . . s.h.i.t! . . . and poor Budapest, the ferocity of the Russian tanks! . . . they never say a word . . . and they're wrong! . . . about how their brethren were roasted alive in Germany beneath the spreading wings of democracy . . . one doesn't speak of such things, it's embarra.s.sing! . . . the victims? . . . they shouldn't have been there, that's all! . . . well, this last Vichy consul owed his life . . . he'd pa.s.sed right through the flames . . . to a pound of coffee . . . all that was left of the Consulate . . . he had his coffee under his arm . . . no card file . . . the firemen were out in front of the Consulate . . . just getting ready to leave . . . playing it double or quits! . . . the center of Dresden through bombs, sulphur, and tornadoes of fire . . . for a place where the bombs weren't falling . . . the hills outside the city . . . a mad dash! . . . the fire engine, the firemen, him, and the coffee . . . the idea wasn't to put out any fires, but to avoid being burned alive! the Dresden firemen had picked him up for his coffee! they hoisted him up and tied him to the fire engine . . . the top of the ladder! . . . a heave heave and a and a ho! ho! . . . him and his coffee through the rivers of fire! . . . him and his coffee through the rivers of fire!

That's why I had my doubts . . . Orphize and his wife coming from Dresden . . . dressed fit to kill, war paint and la-di-da . . . plus the veil . . . food for thought . . . and wanting to put me in their picture . . . me! . . . and Le Vigan!and Luchaire! . . . and his daughter Corinne . . . and Lili! . . . and Bebert! . . . so our friends in France would get a good look at us . . . and not forget us . . . He was going to show it in Switzerland . . . and then in Montmartre! . . . his breathtaking picture . . . "daily life in Siegmaringen" . . . Corinne Luchaire wasn't there, she was in a sanatorium in Saint-Blasien . . . oh, but don't worry! she'd come! no trouble there! it was okay with her father! and Laval! and Brinon! and Petain . . . to give our admirers their money's worth! . . .

All that was food for thought . . . he was upstairs with Raumnitz . . .

Somebody's coming down . . . "it must be them!" and so it was . . . Aisha, too, and the mastiffs . . . he calls out to me on his way down . . . "Celine! Celine! . . . I'm going with Madame Raumnitz! to look at their camera! I won't be long! just a minute! . . . I'll be right back . . . you'll wait for me?"

"Yes . . . yes . . . certainly!" I promise . . .

All three of them pa.s.s by our door . . . He's as chipper as ever . . . full of dash . . . she not quite so lively . . . she gives him her arm . . . she takes little short steps . . . eyes downcast . . . I forgot to tell you! her eyes were made up . . . long false eyelashes, Musidora . . . and even tiny paillettes! false lashes, paI'llettes in her eyebrows . . . the works! . . . makes you think of Sunset Boulevard Sunset Boulevard . . . I've seen . . . I've seen Sunset Boulevard Sunset Boulevard . . . oh, years ago . . . I saw the three of them moving along . . . talking about boulevards! down the corridor and still further! . . . Aisha led the way . . . they had only to follow . . . follow her . . . couldn't go wrong . . . this way! . . . this way! Aisha, her whip, her mastiffs! . . . this way! . . . it wasn't up to me to say anything . . . "Don't look at them," I tell Lili! "Go back in!" I go in with her . . . it's no time to know certain things . . . to talk about them in the Castle . . . or to the . . . oh, years ago . . . I saw the three of them moving along . . . talking about boulevards! down the corridor and still further! . . . Aisha led the way . . . they had only to follow . . . follow her . . . couldn't go wrong . . . this way! . . . this way! Aisha, her whip, her mastiffs! . . . this way! . . . it wasn't up to me to say anything . . . "Don't look at them," I tell Lili! "Go back in!" I go in with her . . . it's no time to know certain things . . . to talk about them in the Castle . . . or to the Milice Milice . . . or at the . . . or at the Fidelis Fidelis . . . if Raumnitz mentions it to me, I'll tell him I didn't see anything . . . . . . if Raumnitz mentions it to me, I'll tell him I didn't see anything . . .

Two . . . three minutes, not a sound . . . nothing . . . and then steps . . . Aisha . . . we hear her coming back . . . knock! knock! knock! knock! . . . she's at the door . . . . . . she's at the door . . .

"Is everything all right?" she asks us . . . "Oh, fine, Madame Raurnnitz. My compliments, Madame!" I make my voice kind of gay, young . . . glad to see her . . . the social graces . . . some people appreciate the amenities . . . she often knocks at our door like that and asks how we're getting along . . . are we all right? . . . I always say yes . . . sure thing! . . . just fine! . . .

All these little episodes . . . adventures . . . had prevented me from going out . . . you've noticed? . . . for two days . . . all the places I had to go . . . not only my patients at the Fidelis Fidelis . . . the other end of town and the Milice . . . and then back to Luther's, this consultation . . . naturally somebody must be consulting in my place! . . . one more phony doctor . . . some impostor! . . . my office at Luther's was the rendezvous of the quacks . . . from all over Germany they landed at Luther's, and at "my hours" . . . my own consultation hours! . . . with their nurses . . . I was a land of magnet . . . magnet for nuts . . . and if by any chance they took it into their heads to "operate," I could really see trouble ahead! . . . oh, if they only "prescribed" . . . they couldn't do much harm! . . . the other end of town and the Milice . . . and then back to Luther's, this consultation . . . naturally somebody must be consulting in my place! . . . one more phony doctor . . . some impostor! . . . my office at Luther's was the rendezvous of the quacks . . . from all over Germany they landed at Luther's, and at "my hours" . . . my own consultation hours! . . . with their nurses . . . I was a land of magnet . . . magnet for nuts . . . and if by any chance they took it into their heads to "operate," I could really see trouble ahead! . . . oh, if they only "prescribed" . . . they couldn't do much harm! Hof Hof Richter was out of everything . . . But those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds always wanted to operate! anything, any way, hernia, ot.i.tis, warts, cysts! . . . they all wanted to slice . . . they wanted to be surgeons! . . . it's an interesting fact, even in normal times, that the screwball bone-setters, chiropracters, faith-healers, fakirs etc. are never satisfied to dish out advice, pills, phials, good-luck charms, or caramels . . . oh no! . . . they've got to have Grand Opera! . . . the real thing! . . . they've got to see people bleeding . . . throbbing . . . oh, I won't go as far as Daudet, but it seems pretty obvious . . . that surgery, even the most legal and official kind . . . has a good deal of the Roman Circus about it! . . . human sacrifice a la Tartuffe! . . . and the victims want more and more! absolutely m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic! They want everything cut off or out . . . nose, bosom, ovaries . . . and the surgeons make hay! precision butchers, watchmakers! . . . your son's going into it? . . . has he got the real a.s.sa.s.sin's instinct? . . . innate? . . .the old Anthropithecus inside him? is he a born trepanner, brain ladler, Cro-Magnon? . . . good! . . . good! . . . excellent! a cave man? splendid! tell him to sign up! He's got what it takes! . . . surgery's his cookie! he's got the makings of a great surgeon! . . . the ladies, so pinheaded, so s.a.d.i.s.tic, will swoon at the mere sight of his hands . . . "oh, what hands! . . . what hands!" . . . they'll go crazy! they'll get down on their knees and beg him to take everything! and not wait! their money! their dowry! their uterus! their essential! their t.i.ts! disembowel them completely! . . . turn their peritoneum inside out . . . clean them like rabbits! their guts . . . their organs! several pounds, a whole trayfull . . . oh wonderful, darling a.s.sa.s.sin! . . . "high priest of my heart!" Landru, Petiot, the Academy! Richter was out of everything . . . But those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds always wanted to operate! anything, any way, hernia, ot.i.tis, warts, cysts! . . . they all wanted to slice . . . they wanted to be surgeons! . . . it's an interesting fact, even in normal times, that the screwball bone-setters, chiropracters, faith-healers, fakirs etc. are never satisfied to dish out advice, pills, phials, good-luck charms, or caramels . . . oh no! . . . they've got to have Grand Opera! . . . the real thing! . . . they've got to see people bleeding . . . throbbing . . . oh, I won't go as far as Daudet, but it seems pretty obvious . . . that surgery, even the most legal and official kind . . . has a good deal of the Roman Circus about it! . . . human sacrifice a la Tartuffe! . . . and the victims want more and more! absolutely m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic! They want everything cut off or out . . . nose, bosom, ovaries . . . and the surgeons make hay! precision butchers, watchmakers! . . . your son's going into it? . . . has he got the real a.s.sa.s.sin's instinct? . . . innate? . . .the old Anthropithecus inside him? is he a born trepanner, brain ladler, Cro-Magnon? . . . good! . . . good! . . . excellent! a cave man? splendid! tell him to sign up! He's got what it takes! . . . surgery's his cookie! he's got the makings of a great surgeon! . . . the ladies, so pinheaded, so s.a.d.i.s.tic, will swoon at the mere sight of his hands . . . "oh, what hands! . . . what hands!" . . . they'll go crazy! they'll get down on their knees and beg him to take everything! and not wait! their money! their dowry! their uterus! their essential! their t.i.ts! disembowel them completely! . . . turn their peritoneum inside out . . . clean them like rabbits! their guts . . . their organs! several pounds, a whole trayfull . . . oh wonderful, darling a.s.sa.s.sin! . . . "high priest of my heart!" Landru, Petiot, the Academy!

Aztec idols? small time! clotted blood, grimaces! . . . Hottentot gourmands deprived of missionaries? . . . don't make me laugh! . . . Sade, the divine marquis? . . . kid stuff! any operating room . . . that's where you'll really see Great Art! . , . Real high priests! . . . and the vivisectionees, delighted! seventh heaven! . . . the animals in La Villette or Chicago are afraid! they have an instinct for what's going to happen . . . the Great Surgeon's dear patients get themselves butchered with delight . . .

My screwb.a.l.l.s, these phony doctors at Luther's, certainly couldn't expect to be smothered in gold pieces . . . maybe ten marks . . . twenty marks a shot . . . my worry was that instead of sticking to harmless advice . . . they'd start cutting! . . . they all had the itch . . . every one of them . . . and I'd get the blame! for allowing this . . . or that! . . . I'd warned Brinon! But h.e.l.l! warnings . . . I'm all in agreement with Louis XVI! "The good has gout, evil has wings!" . . . I could talk myself blue in the face . . . they'd always put the blame on me! . . . for the screwb.a.l.l.s' ma.s.sacres . . . "look at the books he's written!" . . . I'm not telling you anything new, my books have done me more harm than anything else! . . . in Clichy! . . . Bezons! . . . Denmark! . . . here! . . . you write? . . . you're sunk . . Tropmann's "never confess" is a halfway precaution . . . "never write!" . . . that's the big thing!

If Landru had written, he wouldn't have had time to turn around, let alone pickle a baker's dozen of chicks! . . . he'd have had all Gambais on his neck! he'd have been sunk! . . . "Look at the books he's written!"

I could see it coming in Siegmaringen . . . "evil has wings? . . . I knew I was cooked . . . one way or another . . . everybody agreed . . . in London, Rome, and Dakar . . . that I deserved to be put in cold mud for Bagatelles Bagatelles and ten times more here in Siegmaringen on the Danube! the haven of the 1,142! . . . if I was still alive and wriggling . . . it could only mean that I was playing a double game! that I was a Fifi? . . . or an agent of world Jewry . . . in any case I was washed up . . . "look at the books he's written!" . . . Besides, the 1,142 were counting on their little bonanza . . . that I'd pay for them all! . . . that everything would come out fine . . . thanks to me! they were all dreaming of slippers and firesides . . . thanks to me! . . . for me the Chinese tortures! . . . "look at the books he's written" . . . not for them! not them! . . . they were immune, sitting pretty, charmed . . . my job was to expiate for them all! . . . look at the books he's written!" . . . I'd appease Moloch! that was the general opinion! . . . I couldn't beat the rap! . . . from the lowest bedridden s.h.i.ta.s.s b.u.m in the and ten times more here in Siegmaringen on the Danube! the haven of the 1,142! . . . if I was still alive and wriggling . . . it could only mean that I was playing a double game! that I was a Fifi? . . . or an agent of world Jewry . . . in any case I was washed up . . . "look at the books he's written!" . . . Besides, the 1,142 were counting on their little bonanza . . . that I'd pay for them all! . . . that everything would come out fine . . . thanks to me! they were all dreaming of slippers and firesides . . . thanks to me! . . . for me the Chinese tortures! . . . "look at the books he's written" . . . not for them! not them! . . . they were immune, sitting pretty, charmed . . . my job was to expiate for them all! . . . look at the books he's written!" . . . I'd appease Moloch! that was the general opinion! . . . I couldn't beat the rap! . . . from the lowest bedridden s.h.i.ta.s.s b.u.m in the Fidelis Fidelis to the most-high Laval in the Castle, it was a certainty . . . "ah, Celine, you don't like the Jews!" Those were the words that rea.s.sured them . . . I'd be hanged! to the most-high Laval in the Castle, it was a certainty . . . "ah, Celine, you don't like the Jews!" Those were the words that rea.s.sured them . . . I'd be hanged!

Definitely! . . . but not them! not them . . . oh, dear them! . . . "look at the books he's written!" you can't imagine the agonies of terror that I relieved with Bagatelles! Bagatelles! just the right thing, just what was wanted of me! . . . the scapegoat book . . . on my throat the knife! . . . I'd be dismembered! not them! . . . no, not them! them so frail and sensitive! no, never! . . . all 1,142 of them . . . not a single anti-Jew left!. . . . not one! . . . no more than Morand, Montherlant, Maurois, Latzareff, Laval, or Brinon! . . . the only one left was me . . . the providential goat! . . . I'd saved everybody with just the right thing, just what was wanted of me! . . . the scapegoat book . . . on my throat the knife! . . . I'd be dismembered! not them! . . . no, not them! them so frail and sensitive! no, never! . . . all 1,142 of them . . . not a single anti-Jew left!. . . . not one! . . . no more than Morand, Montherlant, Maurois, Latzareff, Laval, or Brinon! . . . the only one left was me . . . the providential goat! . . . I'd saved everybody with Bagatelles! Bagatelles! the 1,142 warrantees! . . . same as on the other side I saved Morand, Achille, Maurois, Montherlant, and Tartre . . . I was the providential hero sucker! . . . I . . . I . . . not justFrance . . . the whole world . . . enemies, allies . . . everybody . . . out for my blood! . . . plenty of blood! . . . they've dreamed up a new myth! . . . disembowel the goat . . . do we? . . . don't we? . . . the priests are ready! the 1,142 warrantees! . . . same as on the other side I saved Morand, Achille, Maurois, Montherlant, and Tartre . . . I was the providential hero sucker! . . . I . . . I . . . not justFrance . . . the whole world . . . enemies, allies . . . everybody . . . out for my blood! . . . plenty of blood! . . . they've dreamed up a new myth! . . . disembowel the goat . . . do we? . . . don't we? . . . the priests are ready!

Griping again . . . leaving you high and dry . . . Finally I was able to go out . . . "good-bye, Lili!" I take Bebert, his bag . . . you know, kind of a game bag with breathing holes . . . we're down at the bottom of the stairs . . . naturally the people in the restaurant see me . . . the Stam eaters, the whole beer hall, and the eaters, the whole beer hall, and the shuppo shuppo outside, guarding the door . . . I tell him I'm going to the Castle . . . oh oh! here comes somebody . . . they throw themselves on my neck! . . . Monsieur and Madame Delaunys! . . . effusions! I didn't recognize them . . . ah, Doctor! . . . Doctor! . . . so thin! . . . they'd just come out of the outside, guarding the door . . . I tell him I'm going to the Castle . . . oh oh! here comes somebody . . . they throw themselves on my neck! . . . Monsieur and Madame Delaunys! . . . effusions! I didn't recognize them . . . ah, Doctor! . . . Doctor! . . . so thin! . . . they'd just come out of the Stam Stam . . . I'd had them both as patients . . . where had they been? . . . really all skin and bone! . . . "Where have you been?" "In Cissen, Doctor! . . . in the Camp . . . we were in the firewood brigade!" oh, I understood . . . gathering brushwood . . . "winter through joy!" . . . I could see it hadn't been a vacation! firewood brigade! . . . oh, plenty of good will! . . . but short rations . . . two mess kits a day . . . kohlrabi and carrots! . . . sleeping on straw in a tent . . . one tent for twelve to fifteen families . . . they hadn't put on weight, I could see that! . . . even Frucht's restaurant was better . . . oh, it was the same old . . . I'd had them both as patients . . . where had they been? . . . really all skin and bone! . . . "Where have you been?" "In Cissen, Doctor! . . . in the Camp . . . we were in the firewood brigade!" oh, I understood . . . gathering brushwood . . . "winter through joy!" . . . I could see it hadn't been a vacation! firewood brigade! . . . oh, plenty of good will! . . . but short rations . . . two mess kits a day . . . kohlrabi and carrots! . . . sleeping on straw in a tent . . . one tent for twelve to fifteen families . . . they hadn't put on weight, I could see that! . . . even Frucht's restaurant was better . . . oh, it was the same old Stam Stam . . . but at Frucht's there were no blackjacks . . . while at Cissen, Christ! . . . to a pulp! . . . the brushwood squad leaders kept warm by beating them! . . . and no love pats! . . . the real . . . but at Frucht's there were no blackjacks . . . while at Cissen, Christ! . . . to a pulp! . . . the brushwood squad leaders kept warm by beating them! . . . and no love pats! . . . the real schlag! schlag! . . . bruises, b.u.mps, blisters! they'd really been warmed over . . . nothing was left of their clothes . . . covered with rags . . . knotted together, tied with string . . . shaped into boots, a jacket, a dress . . . odds and ends they'd picked up . . . swiped all over . . . from other families . . . other brushwood teams . . . it wasn't their profession . . . any of them . . . and they weren't the right age either . . . people from before the other war . . . they looked bad, even him with his wig and "Nubian" moustache . . . made you think of an oldtime barber's window . . . She'd given singing lessons onthe rue Tiquetonne . . . he was a violinist . . . really a settled harmonious couple . . . no variety honeymoon! married thirty-five years! . . . all the good will in the world . . . devoted to their pupils! . . . devoted to the New Europe! . . . same sincerity! no calculation! they'd come out for Europe right away! no thought of gain! . . . not at all . . . he'd played the violin (second fiddle) in the big orchestra at the Grand Palais . . . New Europe Exposition, Common Market, etc. . . . she'd sung for Madame Abetz at the Emba.s.sy . . . what soirees! what guests! to give you an idea whether they were in deep! . . . and whether they had received those death "notices" and little coffins! . . . and a good stiff load of Article 75 . . . that Morand never got . . . or Montherlant! or Maurois! . . . these people were honest, serious! . . . skin of their teeth! . . . their place had been sacked, completely wrecked! all their belongings taken, moved! clearance! . . . like me on the rue Norvins . . . that made us neighbors . . . well, practically . . . I didn't take it lightly, though . . . but they . . . well, almost . . . no bitterness, no grudge . . . just grieved! . . . especially at being beaten for not collecting enough wood . . . they didn't deserve to be beaten . . . and called lazy old b.a.s.t.a.r.ds . . . it was the "lazy old" that didn't go down! . . . "We lazy, Doctor? a whole life of conscientious hard work . . . not a moment's idleness! You know us, Doctor!" . . . bruises, b.u.mps, blisters! they'd really been warmed over . . . nothing was left of their clothes . . . covered with rags . . . knotted together, tied with string . . . shaped into boots, a jacket, a dress . . . odds and ends they'd picked up . . . swiped all over . . . from other families . . . other brushwood teams . . . it wasn't their profession . . . any of them . . . and they weren't the right age either . . . people from before the other war . . . they looked bad, even him with his wig and "Nubian" moustache . . . made you think of an oldtime barber's window . . . She'd given singing lessons onthe rue Tiquetonne . . . he was a violinist . . . really a settled harmonious couple . . . no variety honeymoon! married thirty-five years! . . . all the good will in the world . . . devoted to their pupils! . . . devoted to the New Europe! . . . same sincerity! no calculation! they'd come out for Europe right away! no thought of gain! . . . not at all . . . he'd played the violin (second fiddle) in the big orchestra at the Grand Palais . . . New Europe Exposition, Common Market, etc. . . . she'd sung for Madame Abetz at the Emba.s.sy . . . what soirees! what guests! to give you an idea whether they were in deep! . . . and whether they had received those death "notices" and little coffins! . . . and a good stiff load of Article 75 . . . that Morand never got . . . or Montherlant! or Maurois! . . . these people were honest, serious! . . . skin of their teeth! . . . their place had been sacked, completely wrecked! all their belongings taken, moved! clearance! . . . like me on the rue Norvins . . . that made us neighbors . . . well, practically . . . I didn't take it lightly, though . . . but they . . . well, almost . . . no bitterness, no grudge . . . just grieved! . . . especially at being beaten for not collecting enough wood . . . they didn't deserve to be beaten . . . and called lazy old b.a.s.t.a.r.ds . . . it was the "lazy old" that didn't go down! . . . "We lazy, Doctor? a whole life of conscientious hard work . . . not a moment's idleness! You know us, Doctor!"

She had tears in her eyes . . . the ultimate insult! They lazy! . . . "First prize at the conservatory! both of us!" . . . sobs . . . "you know, I've told you, we met at the Concerts Touche . . . laziness at the Concerts Touche?! . . . you knew Monsieur Touche, Doctor, didn't you? you know the kind of man, the artist he was! . . . and the hard work! . . . a new program every week! . . . and no oompa-oompa! no cafe music! You did know Monsieur Touche?" . . . "Oh yes, of course, Madame Delaunys!" . . . The way they'd been beaten . . . and not with daisies . . . I could see the marks . . . thrashed for being lazy! . . . she really couldn't understand . . . it was too much! . . . them! . . . and her husband on the head! . . . "Look!" It was true . . . two places . . . bigpatches of scalp gone . . . torn off! . . . hit really hard! . . . oh, but not discouraged! far from it! you couldn't get him down! . . . oh no, the future! he was a man of the future! his sufferings in Cissen had brought it out! overcome his fears! "Yes, Doctor!" a project! . . . and come to think of it, maybe I could help him with his project . . . if I was willing? . . . my influence with Brinon? . . . "Concert master!" . . . a word from Brinon would do it! . . . "concert master" where? I didn't get it . . . if I were willing? . . . yes . . . yes . . . undoubtedly the time in Cissen had been unpleasant, the blows, the insults, but here was an opportunity to make up for it! . . . concert master! . . . all his life, with Touche and elsewhere, he had been on the verge of promotion to concert master . . . never come through . . . for one reason or another . . . he wasn't vain or forward, but he had the qualifications! . . . "What do you think of it, Doctor? Here, now, in Siegmaringen! . . ." he pointed out somebody in the restaurant, over there . . .

"Do you see Monsieur Langouve?"

I saw him . . . he was there . . .

"He's all for it!"

Monsieur Langouve was there at a little table . . . at the Stam Stam . . . Monsieur Langouve . . . the conductor of the Siegmaringen orchestra . . . . . . Monsieur Langouve . . . the conductor of the Siegmaringen orchestra . . .

"Monsieur Langouve has noticed my performance as second fiddle . . . We owe you the position of concert master . . . his opinion! . . . imagine, Doctor . . . I'm only mentioning it to you! . . . I don't go in for intrigue! . . . you know that! . . . I'm not a climber . . . a careerist! perish the thought! . . . but here, under the circ.u.mstances, I need the approval of the Castle, and a word from you . . . you could . . . couldn't you, Doctor? . . . or if you can't, I'll never mention it again . . . but you've always been so good to us, so kind! so encouraging! But I'm really being bold! I'm taking liberties!"

I could see Monsieur Langouve the orchestra conductor, at his little table in the Stem Stem. The soul of courtesy! worse than Delaunys! . . . delicate, precious, he expressed himself like a violin . . . in caressing waves! like Debussy's Nuages Nuages . . . . . .

Of course I wanted to help them . . . Delaunys and his wife . . . but how was I going to introduce them to Brinon? . . .

"They're putting on a celebration soon . . ."

"Where, Monsieur Delaunys?"