Castle to Castle (40 page)

"Doctor, please . . . would you come to the Castle tomorrow evening? . . . dinner with me and Hoffmann? nothing formal! just ourselves . . ."

"Certainly, Monsieur Abetz?

I was in no position to hem and haw . . . at the appointed hour, eight o'clock, I was in the Castle . . . Abetz's dining room . . . a maitre d'hôtel takes me somewhere else, the other wing, the other end of the Castle . . . corridors! . . . corridors! . . . "never be where you're supposed to be! . . ." another little dining room . . . there could always be a bomb under the table! especially since the attempt on Hitler's life! . . . precautions! well, here we are! the other little dining room . . . attractive . . . porcelain knick-knacks all over . . . Dresden . . . statuettes, vases . . . menu's less attractive! . . . I see, it's on my account . . . the "special Spartan menu!" I see, I see! . . . they knew about my malicious tongue, my evil mind! Hoffmann and Abetz wouldn't touch this menu, they'd wait till I was gone! he'd heard the stories that were going around among the villeins, about the delicacies they piled in . . . the Ministers, Botschafters and Generals . . . behind their thick walls! the feasts! morning! noon! and night! legs of lamb! hams! caviar! souffles! . . . and the cellars full of champagne! . . . I could see they were showing me the perfect Spartan menu! . . . No need for me to open my mouth! . . . Abetz had his monologue all ready . . . the story of his "resistance" . . . the way he'd taken the swastika flag down from his embassy on the rue de Lille! . . . oh, the rue de LI'lle was a bad street for them! . . . I thought, I listened, I didn't say a word . . . rue de Lille, the same street as René! . . . René-the-Racist! René stayed put! . . . they were sacked, booted out! . . . I know Rene! . . . he tore up eight orders not to prosecute me . . .

There at the table I looked at Abetz, he was playing with his napkin . . . well-fed, clean-shaven . . . he'd eat again when I left . . . and not exactly what they were serving me! radishes without butter, porridge without milk! . . . he was perorating for me to listen and repeat . . . that's what he'd invited me for! . . . they serve us a slice of sausage, one slice each . . . in that case, hell, let's have some fun at least! . . . I dive in . . .

"What will you do, Monsieur Abetz, when Leclerc's army gets here? right here in Siegmaringen! . . . in the Castle?"

My question doesn't faze them . . . neither Hoffmann nor him, they'd thought about it . . .

"We have men in the Black Forest, Monsieur Céline! utterly devoted! our Brown underground! . . . got away from your Fifis on the rue de Lille! . . . it'll be ten times easier here! . . . a bad moment, that's all! but you'll come with us, Céline!"

"Oh, certainly, Monsieur Abetz!"

As long as this was a diplomatic lunch, I had to say my piece . . . it was on my stomach . . . even worse than the radishes!

"See here, Monsieur Abetz, see here! . . . there's a slight difference! . . . which you pretend not to see! . . . you, Abetz . . . even one hundred percent defeated, crushed, occupied by forty-nine victor powers . . . by God, the Devil, and the Apostles . . . you'll still be the loyal, dutiful German, honor and fatherland! defeated but legitimate! while a damn fool like me will always be a stinking filthy traitor, fit to be hanged! . . . a disgrace to my brothers and the Fifis! . . . first tree! . . . you'll admit there's a difference, Monsieur Abetz?"

"Oh, you're exaggerating, Céline! you always exaggerate! about everything! victory is in the palm of our hands, Céline! . . . the secret weapon! . . . you've heard? . . . no? . . . but let's suppose Céline, let's look at it from your point of view! . . . defeatism! all right, we're defeated! there! if that's what you want! . . . some vestige of National Socialism will always remain! our ideas will regain their vigor! . . . their full vigor! . . . we have sowed, Céline! sowed! sowed blood! . . . ideas! . . . love!"

The sound of his voice made him ecstatic . . .

"Not at all, Abetz! not at all! . . . you'll see! . . . History is written by the victors! . . . your History will be a dilly!"

The flunkey passes the radishes around again . . . gives me another slice of sausage . . .

"All the same, Monsieur Céline . . . listen to me! . . . I know France . . . you know, everybody knows . . . that I taught drawing in France . . . and not only in Paris . . . in the North . . . in the East . . . and in Provence . . . I did thousands of portraits . . . men and women! Frenchmen! . . . Frenchwomen! . . . and on the faces of those French men and women . . . of the common people! . . . mark my words, Céline . . . I've seen an expression . . . an honest, beautiful expression . . . of really sincere . . . really profound . . . friendship! not only for me! for Germany! a very real affection, Céline! . . . for Europe! . . . that's what you must try to understand, Céline!"

Comfort makes people soft in the head, that's how I felt about it . . . they were both beaming! . . . Hoffmann too, across the table . . . it wasn't the libations! nothing but water on the table . . . it was words . . . words! I really had no answer . . . now it was the
Stam
. . . still the
Stam
. . . but a special
Stam
with real carrots, real turnips and, I think, real butter . . .

"Yes, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur!"

Abetz wasn't the barbarian type . . . no . . . nothing to be afraid of like Raumnitz! . . . he hadn't been spanked! . . . not yet! . . . but even so . . . even so . . . better not go too far . . . I'd said enough . . . the affection of the French people? Okay . . . "Shoot the works, kid!" I heartily approve . . .

"Oh, you're right, Abetz!"

That does it! I've started him up again! I'm in for it! . . . the New Europe! and his pet project, his great work as soon as we return to Paris, the super-colossal bronze statue of Charlemagne at the end of the Avenue de la Défense!

"You see, Céline? . . . the Aachen-La Défense axis!"

"Of course I see, Monsieur Abetz! I was born at the Rampe du Pont!"

"Then you see!"

I could see Charlemagne and his valiant knights . . . Goebbels as Roland . . .

"Oh, you're so right!"

"You see! You see! two thousand years of history . . ."

"Magnificent! magnificent!"

Hoffmann was of the same opinion! Abetz's idea really appealed to him! the great symbolization that all Europe was waiting for! Charlemagne surrounded by all his valiant knights on the Place de la Défense!

I watched Abetz's enthusiasm, telling us how it would be . . . his enormous statuary composition . . . his cheeks were on fire! . . . not from liquor! . . . nothing but mineral water, I've told you . . . pine enthusiasm! . . . he stood up to declaim at his ease and mime Charlemagne and his valiant knights! . . . his knights: Rundstedt . . . Roland . . . Darnand! . . . I said to myself: this is enough! . . . he's going to wear himself out . . . I'll slip out quietly . . . enough is enough! . . . just then a flunkey whispers in his ear . . . what is it? . . . somebody's here! . . . Monsieur de Chateaubriant! . . . Alphonse!° . . . he wishes to speak to the Ambassador!

"Show him in! Show him in!"

Alphonse de Chateaubriant! . . . the flunkey leads the way . . . here he comes . . . he's limping . . . He comes in . . . at our last meeting in Baden-Baden he didn't limp so badly, I think . . . at the Hotel Brenner . . . he had the same dog, a really fine spaniel . . . he was dressed the same . . . like a character in his novel . . . ever since his film
Monsieur de Lourdines
. . . he'd been dressing the same . . . his protagonist . . . flowing brown cape, hunting boots . . . oh, but . . . yes! . . . the Tyrolian hat is new . . . with a little feather! in one hand he holds the spaniel's leash, in the other an ice-ax! . . . where was he going in that rig? . . . he told us right away . . . oh, I forgot: his bush! . . . the beard he'd grown since Baden-Baden! . . . a Druid's beard! . . . a mere drawing-room beard in Baden-Baden . . . now it was thick, gray, and shaggy . . . enveloping . . . you couldn't see his face anymore . . . only the eyes . . .

"My dear Abetz! My dear Céline!"

Same voice as in Baden-Baden . . . warm! . . . urgently affectionate!

"Forgive me . . . I just got here . . . I tried desperately to notify you, my dear Abetz . . . unfortunately . . ."

"Come, come, Chateaubriant . . . consider this your home!"

"You are too kind, dear Abetz! we had a home!" He heaves an enormous sigh . . . "Yes, if s true . . . our chalet has been occupied!"

"Ah? . . . really?"

"Yes, I have fled! . . . They've come!

"Who are they?"'

I ask him for the laugh! . . .

"Leclerc's army! . . . use your head, Céline. Oh, but not at all downcast, my dear Céline! I've seen them! . . . I've seen the Blacks! . . . Very well! . . . Blacks? the ultimate provocation? total war? so be it! Am I right, Abetz?"

"Certainly! certainly, Alphonse!"

Alphonse was only pausing for applause . . . he starts up again . . .

"Try to understand, Céline! just as I've written: victory will go to the most highly tempered soul! . . . the spirituality of steel! . . . we have that quality of soul, haven't we, Abetz?"

"Oh certainly, Chateaubriant!"

Abetz wasn't going to contradict him!

"The soul! the soul, that's our weapon . . . I have the bomb . . . I will have!"

Hell! I want to know all about this . . .

"What bomb, Alphonse?"

"Listen carefully, Céline! a few true and tried companions! . . . we've chosen the place! . . . oh, I've been through worse trials!"

He ponders . . . three enormously deep sighs . . . and he continues . . .

"An absolutely inaccessible valley, very narrow, a bowl you might say, between three mountain peaks . . . in the middle of the Tyrol . . . and there, there, Céline! . . . we shall isolate ourselves! . . . you catch my meaning? . . . and we shall concentrate! . . . we shall perfect our bomb!"

Hoffmann doesn't quite get it . . .

"This bomb . . . what are you going to make it out of?"

"Oh, my dear Hoffmann . . . not a bomb of steel! or dynamite! . . . a thousand times no! . . . a bomb of concentration! of faith, Hoffmann!"

"And then?"

"A message . . . a stupendous moral bomb! . . . don't you see, Abetz? . . . how else did the Christian religion triumph? a stupendous moral bomb! . . . don't you see, Céline? . . . am I right?"

"Oh certainly! certainly!"

We were all entirely of his opinion.

That's what the stick and the little hat and his Tyrolian commando were for.

Plain as day!

As far as Abetz was concerned, victory, with or without a bomb, would take care of itself . . . as long as he had his monument! his gigantic, stupendous Charlemagne! his Aachen-Courbevoie axis! his hobby!

"You see, Chateaubriant . . . You see the place I mean?"

"Oh, perfectly!"

"You wouldn't put it anywhere else?"

"Oh, certainly not, my dear Abetz! perfect!"

"Then I can count on you? for an ode! . . . you will be our Bard of Honor! an Ode to Europe!"

They understood each other perfectly . . . complete agreement! . . . the Victory celebration on the Place de la Défense, delegations from all over Europe around the enormous statue, ten times bigger, wider, taller than "Liberty" in New York! really something! the Bard of Honor and his beard!

Just then, I don't know why, they stopped being in agreement . . . Chateaubriant thought it over . . . Abetz, too . . . Hoffmann, too . . . I didn't breathe a word . . . Chateaubriant broke the silence . . . he's got an idea! . . .

"Don't you think, my dear Abetz, that for such an event the Berlin Opera? the Paris Opera? both orchestras?"

"Certainly, certainly, my good friend."

"The Ride of the Valkyries! that's the music! . . . there's no other!"

We agreed again! completely! the Ride of the Valkyries!

But then he starts whistling! the Valkyrie! . . . out of tune! . . . he hums it . . . still more out of tune! . . . he mimes the trumpet with his ice-ax! all the way up to the chandelier . . . as if he were blowing! . . . blowing like mad! . . . Abetz ventures a word . . .

"Chateaubriant! Chateaubriant! Please . . . allow me . . . the trumpet only on the C, the final C . . . not on the G . . . the trombones play the G! no trumpets . . . no trumpet, Chateaubriant!"

"What? No trumpet?"

Suddenly I see a disconcerted man . . . just like that! . . . his ax falls from his hands . . . in half a second his face has changed completely . . . that remark! . . . he's haggard! . . . it's too much . . . he'd been in full flight! . . . he looks at Abetz . . . he looks at the table . . . he grabs a saucer . . . and
Whing!
he flings it! . . . and another! . . . and a plate! . . . and a platter! . . . like at a country fair! he's really steamed up! it all breaks against the shelves of crockery on the other side of the room! smithereens . . . and band . . . crash! and it keeps on coming! more wreckage! . . . an apoplectic fit! . . . the nerve of this Abetz punk telling him his Valkyrie wasn't right! the arrogance of that upstart! He wanted a victory celebration, did he! . . .
crash! bang!
ballistics and clay pipes! he'd show them! beside himself with rage! Abetz and Hoffmann duck on the other side . . . under the table! under the tablecloth!
clatter! smash!
dishes crashing all around them! that china really took some punishment! . . . He's unrecognizable in this fit! bristling! . . . his hair and his bush bristling with rage! disparaging remarks about his trumpet! . . . there must have been bad blood between them to begin with! definitely! . . . I'd heard there was trouble about the rent for their chalet in the Black Forest . . . that Abetz didn't want to pay it any more . . . or maybe his wife, Suzanne . . . trumpet, Valkyries, and Charlemagne weren't the real reason for his wild outbreak . . . it was something else, more serious . . . well, in a way . . . anyway here was Alphonse, always so polite, so well-bred, turned into a Valkyrie himself! . . . everything went! the whole room! . . . all the knick-knacks! an emotional volcano! madness! if Myrta, his dog, hadn't suddenly got so scared and started barking so loud! for all she was worth! Myrta, Alphonse's spaniel . . .
bow wow!
and she runs away! Alphonse calls her . . . she's far away! he runs after her . . . he dashes down the stairs . . . "Myrta! Myrta!" Abetz and Hoffmann yell after him: "Chateaubriant! Chateaubriant!" . . . you can imagine, I take the opportunity to clear out! I made a dash! I don't take the elevator! . . . it's pitch dark outside the Castle . . . air-raid warning! . . . there's always an air-raid warning! . . . I find Alphonse on the sidewalk . . . his Myrta hadn't gone far! she's very glad to be out of there! she makes a big fuss over her dear master! I can't see the dear master, it's too dark . . . but he speaks to me, his voice is still choked . . . with emotion! anger! . . . that crockery bombardment! . . . He'd certainly broken a lot of dishes! . . . he, always so precious, ceremonious, well-mannered . . . all of a sudden I saw him! a total barbarian!