Castle to Castle (37 page)

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

I couldn't help asking him.

"By parachute, Céline!"

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

"Then I can count on you, Céline? 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 healthy 
place . . . 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, Céline! Come, come! I need you, Céline! . . . 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, Céline . . . 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, Céline . . . 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 Pétain! . . . you've no idea! . . . more than Clemenceau! . . . you'll write an article for me in
La France
? . . . how about it?"

"Certainly, certainly, Orphize!"

I can't stop him.

"Just as they told me . . . 'Céline'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
. . .
herein!
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 . . . Illustrations and interviews! . . . they weep, they jerk off about the poor miners . . . those treacherous fires and explosions! . . . shit! . . . 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 embarrassing! . . . the victims? . . . they shouldn't have been there, that's all! . . . well, this last Vichy consul owed his life . . . he'd passed 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
and a
ho!
. . . 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 Bébert! . . . 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 Pétain . . . 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 . . . "Céline! Céline! . . . 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 pass 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
. . . I've seen
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
Milice
. . . or at the
Fidelis
. . . 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!
. . . 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
. . . 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
Richter was out of everything . . . But those bastards always wanted to operate! anything, any way, hernia, otitis, 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 à la Tartuffe! . . . and the victims want more and more! absolutely masochistic! 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 assassin'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 sadistic, 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 tits! disembowel them completely! . . . turn their peritoneum inside out . . . clean them like rabbits! their guts . . . their organs! several pounds, a whole trayfull . . . oh wonderful, darling assassin! . . . "high priest of my heart!" Landru, Pétiot, 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 screwballs, 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 hell! 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 screwballs' massacres . . . "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
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 shitass bum in the
Fidelis
to the most-high Laval in the Castle, it was a certainty . . . "ah, Céline, you don't like the Jews!" Those were the words that reassured them . . . I'd be hanged!