David Golder, The Ball, Snow in Autumn & The Courilof Affair (2008) (13 page)

“
I’M
LEAVING
TOMORROW,
” Golder said abruptly as he got up from the dining table.

Gloria trembled slightly. “Oh… Will you be gone long?”

“Yes.”

“Are you… sure that’s a good idea, David? You’re still ill.”

He burst out laughing.

“Why would that matter?
I
don’t have the right to be ill like everyone else, do I?”

“Oh,” hissed Gloria angrily, “that tone you take to make yourself sound like a martyr.”

He walked out, slamming the door so hard behind him that the chandelier swayed, the glass tinkling in the silent room.

“He’s nervous,” said Hoyos softly.

“Yes. Are you going out tonight? Do you want the car?”

“No thanks, darling.”

Gloria turned sharply towards the servant.

“I won’t be needing the driver tonight.”

“Very good, Madame.”

He placed a silver tray with liqueurs and cigarettes on the table and went out.

Mosquitoes were buzzing around the lamps; Gloria nervously brushed them away.

“Goodness, how irritating… Would you like some coffee?”

“What about Joy? Have you heard from her?”

“No.”

She said nothing for a moment, then continued in a sort of rage, “It’s all David’s fault! He spoils that girl like a mad fool, and he doesn’t even love her! She just flatters his inflated ego! As if he has anything to be proud of. She behaves like a little slut! Do you know how much money he gave her the night he collapsed at the casino? Fifty thousand francs, my darling. Charming, just
charming! I heard all about it. How she was practically walking in her sleep in that gambling joint, wads of notes stuffed into her hands, just like some prostitute who’d rolled an old man! But when it comes to me, it’s always the same arguments, the same old story: business is bad, he’s fed up with having to work for me, et cetera! Oh, I’m so unlucky! ButwhereJoyce is concerned…”

“But still, she is a charming girl…”

“I know,” Gloria cut in.

Hoyos stood up and went over to the window to breathe in the fresh evening air.

“It’s such wonderful weather. Wouldn’t you like to go down to the garden?”

“If you like.”

They went out together. It was a beautiful, moonless night; the large white spotlights on the terrace cast an almost theatrical light over the gravel on the path, the branches of the trees.

“Smell how delicious it is,” said Hoyos. “The wind is blowing in from Spain, there’s cinnamon in the air, don’t you think?”

“No,” she replied, curtly.

She leaned against a bench. “Let’s sit down. I find it tiring walking in the dark.”

He sat down beside her and lit a cigarette. For a moment, his features were caught in the flare of the lighter: his delicate eyelids were like the withered petals of dead flowers; his perfectly shaped lips were still those of a young man, bursting with life.

“Well, now, what’s going on? Are we alone tonight?”

“Were you expecting someone else?” she asked absent-mindedly.

“No, not especially. I’m just surprised. The house is usually as full as a country inn when there’s a fair. Mind you, I’m not complaining. We’re old, my darling, and we need people and noise around us. It wasn’t like that in the past, but everything changes…”

“In the past,” she repeated. “Do you know how many years it’s been? It’s terrifying …”

“Nearly twenty!”

“Nineteen O one. The carnival in Nice in 1901, my darling. Twenty-five years.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “You were just a little foreigner, aimlessly wandering the streets, in your simple dress and straw hat. But that soon changed.”

“You were in love with me then. Now, all you care about is my money. I can sense it, you know. Without my money…”

He gently shrugged his shoulders.

“Hush, now … Don’t get yourself in a state. Being angry ages you … and I’m feeling very sentimental tonight. Do you remember, Gloria, how everything looked silver and blue?”

“Yes.”

They fell silent, as they both suddenly remembered a street in Nice, thronging on carnival night with people wearing masks and singing as they passed by; remembered the palm trees, the moon, and the shouts of the crowd in Place Massena… remembered their youth… the beautiful night, as sensual and simple as an Italian love song.

Suddenly he threw away his cigarette. “Oh, my darling! Enough reminiscing; it makes me feel cold as death!”

“It’s true,” she said, unconsciously shivering. “When I think about the past… I so wanted to come to Europe. I can’t remember any more how David managed to get the money to pay for my trip. I travelled third class. I watched from the deck as the other women danced, covered in jewels. Why do we have to wait until we’re old to have such things? And, when I got here, I lived in a little family-run boarding house. If, at the end of the month, no money had come from America, I would stay in my room with nothing but an orange for supper. You never knew that, did you? I put on a brave face. God knows, it wasn’t always easy. But what I wouldn’t give now for those days, those nights…”

“It’s Joyce’s turn now. It’s odd how that idea both annoys and consoles me at the same time. But that’s not how you feel, is it?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so,” he murmured.

She could sense by the way he said it that he was smiling.

“There’s something I’m worried about,” she said suddenly. “You’ve often asked me what Ghedalia said about what was wrong with…”

“Yes. Go on.”

“Well, it was a heart attack. He could die at any moment.”

“Does he know?”

“No. I… I arranged things so that Ghedalia wouldn’t say anything. He wanted to make him give up work. How would we have managed? He hasn’t saved any money for me, nothing, not a penny. It’s just that… well, I didn’t think he would have to leave here so soon. And tonight he looked like death. So, really, I don’t know what’s best any more …”

Hoyos was quietly clicking his fingers; he looked annoyed. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she said angrily. “I was thinking of you, as usual. What would happen to you if David stopped earning money? You know very well, don’t you, where my money goes?”

“Oh,” he said, laughing, “I’d rather die than live to see the day when women stopped paying for me. There’s something about being an old lover that I find wickedly appealing.”

She shrugged her shoulders impatiently.

“Oh, do be quiet! Can’t you tell how nervous I am! What should I do? What would happen if I told him the truth and he dropped everything? Don’t tell me he wouldn’t. You don’t really know him. Right now, all he cares about is his health, he’s obsessed with the idea of dying. Surely you’ve seen him every morning in the garden, wearing that old overcoat even in the sun? Oh, my God! If I had to watch him dragging on like that for years to come! I’d sooner see him die right now! If only … I swear, no one would miss him.”

Hoyos bent down and picked a flower; he gently rubbed it between his fingers, then inhaled its perfume on his hand.

“How wonderful that smells,” he murmured, “it’s divine … The faint aroma of pepper… I think it’s these lovely little white carnations that are planted along the edges of the flowerbeds … You’re unfair to your husband, my darling. He’s a good man.”

“A good man?” she scoffed. “Do you have any idea how many people he’s ruined, how much misery he’s caused, how many suicides? It’s because of him that Marcus, his partner, his
friend of twenty-six years, killed himself! You didn’t know that, did you?”

“No,” he replied with seeming indifference.

“Well,” she continued, “what should I do?”

“Oh, there’s only one thing you can do, my poor darling. Prepare him gently, as gently as possible, make him understand … I don’t think he’ll give up the deal he’s working on at the moment. Fischl told me a bit about it, but you know that I don’t really understand much about business. As far as I could work out, your husband’s business affairs are in a truly terrible state at the moment. He’s counting on some negotiations with the Soviets to get him back on his feet. Something to do with oil, I think … In any case, one thing is certain: given his current financial situation, if he suddenly dies now, you’ll end up with nothing but a series of terrible debts, no money at all… “

“It’s true,” she murmured, “his business is in chaos; I don’t think even he realises how bad it is.”

“Does anyone know?”

“Well, no,” she said, angrily shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t think he trusts anyone, and especially not me. His business! He hides it from me as if it were his mistress!”

“Well then, you see, if he knew, if he suspected that his life was in danger, he would make provisions, I’m sure. And of course, it would be an incentive to him, as well…”

He laughed quietly.

“His last deal, his last chance…Just imagine … Yes, you have to make him understand.”

Both of them turned around instinctively to look at the house. On the first floor, Golder’s light was on.

“He’s still awake.”

“I don’t want to see him,” she whispered. “I … He’s never understood me, never loved me. Just money, money, for as long as he’s lived. He’s like a robot—no heart, no feelings, nothing. I’ve been in his bed, slept with him, for years, and he’s always been exactly as he is now: hard, cold as ice. Money, business… Never a smile, a caress, just shouting and endless scenes. Oh, I’ve been so unhappy!”

She fell silent. When she moved, the light from one of the
outside lamps hanging along the path made her diamond earrings sparkle.

Hoyos smiled.

“What abeautiful night,” he said dreamily. “The flowers smell so divine, it’s wonderful. Your perfume is too strong, Gloria, I’ve told you before. It overpowers these poor little autumn roses. What silence … It’s extraordinary. You can hear the sound of the sea. How peaceful the night is. Listen, there are women singing on the road. Delightful, don’t you think? Those clear, beautiful voices, the night… I love this place. I would be so upset, truly upset, if this house were sold.”

“Are you mad?” she murmured. “What are you talking about?”

“My God, it could happen … This house isn’t in your name, is it?”

She didn’t reply.

“You’ve tried so many times,” he continued, “remember? And what did he always say? Oh, the same old song: ‘I’m still here…’”

“I really should speak to him, tonight…”

“Yes, that would be best, I think.”

“Right away.”

“That would be best,” he repeated.

She slowly stood up.

“Oh, this whole business is so upsetting. Are you staying here?”

“Yes, it’s so beautiful…”

WHEN
SHE WENT
into Golder’s room, he was sitting on the bed working, propped up on piles of crumpled pillows; his shirt was open at the neck, the unbuttoned sleeves hanging from his bare arms. He had placed the lamp on the bed, on a tray with the remains of a half-empty cup of tea, a plate full of orange peel. Its light fell full on to his bent head, making his white hair gleam eerily.

He turned sharply when the door opened and looked at Gloria, before bending even further over his work and grumbling, “What is it? What do you want now?”

“I need to speak to you,” she replied coldly.

He took off his glasses and slowly wiped his puffy eyes with the corner of his handkerchief. She sat down stiffly on the bed beside him, fidgeting nervously with her pearls.

“David, listen. I really must speak to you. You’re going off tomorrow … You’re not well, you’re tired … Have you considered that, if anything happened to you, I’d be all alone in the world?”

He listened to her with a cold, gloomy expression, without moving, without saying a word.

“David…”

“What do you want from me?” he asked finally, staring at her in that harsh, fearful, stubborn way he reserved for her alone. “Leave me be, I have work to do.”

“What I have to say is just as important to me as your work. You won’t get rid of me that easily, I can assure you.”

She clenched her teeth in cold fury.

“Why are you going away so suddenly?”

“Business.”

“Well, I didn’t think you were going off to meet one of your mistresses!” she cried, crossly shrugging her shoulders. “Oh, do
be careful, David. Don’t push me too far. Where are you going? Business is really bad, isn’t it?”

“Not that bad,” he murmured unconvincingly.

“David!”

She was shouting nervously, in spite of herself. She made a great effort to calm down. “I am your wife, it seems to me that I have the right to be concerned with matters that affect me as much as they do you.”

“Up until now,” Golder said slowly, “all you’ve said was, ‘I want money, sort it out.’ And I always have. And that’s how it will be until the day I die.”

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted impatiently, with a hint of menace in her voice, “I know, I know. Always the same old story. Your work, your work! Meanwhile, what would
I
be left with if you suddenly died! You’ve really got it sorted, haven’t you? So that the day you die, when all your creditors pounce on me, I’ll have nothing, not a penny!”

“If I die! If I die! I’m not dead yet! Am I? Well, am I?” he shouted, trembling all over. “Shut up, do you hear me? Just shut up!”

“Yes, that’s it,” she scoffed. “You’re like an ostrich with its head in the sand! You don’t want to see or understand anything. Well, that’s just too bad. You’ve had a heart attack, my dear. You could die at any moment. Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, you must be the biggest coward in the world. Call yourself a man? A man! Just look at this wimp. I think he’s going to faint. Oh, really, don’t look at me like that,” she said with a shrug. “You could live another twenty years, the doctor said so. It’s just, well, what can you do? You have to face such things. After all, we’re all mortal. Remember Nicolas Levy, Porjes, and all the others who juggled enormous fortunes, and when they died, what was left for their widows? An overdraft. Well, that’s not what I want to happen to me, do you understand? Make some arrangements. To start with, put this house in my name. If you were a good husband, you would have made sure I had a proper fortune of my own long ago! I have nothing at all!”

She gave a sudden scream. Golder had punched the tray and
the lamp, knocking them to the ground. They shattered on the floor; the crash of glass broke the silence of the sleeping house.

“Brute! You brute! You beast!” Gloria exclaimed. “You haven’t changed, have you? You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still the little Jew who sold rags and scrap metal in New York, from a sack on your back. Do you remember? Do you?”

“And what about you? Do you remember Kishinev, and that little shop of your moneylender father’s in the Jewish quarter? You weren’t called Gloria then, were you? Well? Havke! Havke!”

He hurled the Yiddish name at her like an insult, shaking his fist. She grabbed him by the shoulders, burying his head in her chest, to drown out his shouting.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! You brute! You bastard! There are servants in the house … the servants are listening! I will never forgive you! Shut up or I’ll kill you!”

She let him go, shuddering: his old teeth were savagely biting into her flesh beneath her pearls. Golder’s eyes were as fierce as a mad dog’s. “How dare you,” he shouted, “how dare you make demands! You have nothing? What about this? And that? And that?”

Furiously he grabbed at the heavy necklace, twisting it around his fingers. She dug her fingernails into his hands, but he held on. He was having difficulty breathing.

“That, my girl, that alone is worth a million! And what about your emeralds? Your necklaces? Your bracelets? Your rings? Everything you own, everything you wear, from head to toe … And you have the nerve to say that I haven’t provided you with a fortune? Just look at yourself, covered in jewels, weighed down with the money you extorted from me, stole from me! You, Havke! When I took you in, you were nothing but a penniless, miserable girl, remember? Remember? You were running through the snow, with holes in your shoes, your feet sticking out of your stockings, your hands red and swollen from the cold! Oh, my pretty,
I
remember! And I remember the boat we left on, and the immigrants’ deck… And now, you’re Gloria Golder! With gowns, jewels, houses, cars, all paid for by me, by me, paid for with my health, with my life! You’ve taken
everything from me, stolen everything from me! Do you think I didn’t know that when this house was bought, you arranged to get a two-hundred-thousand-franc kickback, you and Hoyos? Pay, pay, pay … morning, noon, and night. All my life! Did you really think that I saw nothing, that I understood nothing, that I didn’t see you getting richer, fattening up your bank account at my expense, and Joyce’s? Stockpiling diamonds, stocks and bonds! You’ve been wealthier than me for years, do you hear me, do you?”

His cries were tearing at his chest; he grabbed his throat, overcome by a fit of coughing, a horrible cough that wracked his body like a gale. For a moment, Gloria thought he was going to die. But he still had enough strength left to hiss at her, a hiss that emerged with excruciating pain from the depths of his wracked chest.

“The house … you’re not getting the house! Do you understand! Never.

Then he fell to the floor and lay on his back, silent and motionless, eyes closed. He had forgotten she was there. All he could hear was the sound of his breathing, the cough that shook him and wouldn’t stop, gathering in his throat like a huge wave, and his heart, his old, sick heart, pounding against his chest with deep, dull blows.

The attack lasted for a long time. Then, little by little, it subsided. The cough grew weaker and fainter. He turned to look at Gloria.

“Be happy with what you have,” he whispered with effort, his voice breathless and exhausted, “because I swear to you that you will get nothing more from me ever again, nothing…”

She interrupted him, in spite of herself. “Don’t try to speak. It’s painful just listening to you.”

“Leave me alone,” he complained, pushing away the hand she had stretched out to him; he couldn’t bear the feel of her cold rings, her cold hands on his body.

“Look. I want you to understand once and for all. As long as I live, everything will be fine. You are my wife, I’ve given you everything I could. But after I die, you won’t get anything. Do you understand? Nothing, my dear, except everything you’ve
already managed to amass… and even that’s too much. I’ve arranged things so that Joyce will get it all. And as for you? Not a penny. Not a cent. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Do you hear? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He could clearly see Gloria’s cheeks turn white beneath her melting rouge.

“What are you saying?” she asked in a muffled voice. “Are you mad, David?”

He wiped away the sweat that was running down his face and looked darkly at Gloria.

“I want, I mean for Joyce to be free, rich … As for you…” He angrily clenched his teeth. “Not you, do you hear me, not you.”

“But why?” she asked naively, without thinking.

“Why?” repeated Golder slowly. “Ah, so you really want me to tell you why? Very well then. Because I think I’ve already done enough for you. I’ve made you quite wealthy enough, you and your lovers…”

“What?”

“That surprises you? I bet you understand better now, eh? Yes, your lovers… all of them. That little Porjes, Lewis Wichmann, all the others… and Hoyos… especially Hoyos.
Him!
For twenty years I’ve watched him parading rings, clothing, even other women, paid for with my money. Well, enough is enough, understand?”

When she didn’t reply, he repeated, “Understand? Oh, if you could only see your face. You’re not even trying to pretend!”

“Why should I?” said Gloria in a kind of hiss that barely passed through her clenched lips. “Why should I? I’ve never been unfaithful to you. You can only be unfaithful to a husband… to a man who actually sleeps with you … who satisfies you. As for you! You’ve been a sick old man for years… a wreck. Maybe you don’t realise, or haven’t been counting, but it’s nearly eighteen years since you came near me. And before that?”

She burst out laughing. “And before that, David? Have you forgotten…”

Blood rushed to Golder’s ageing face, turning it almost purple, filling his eyes with tears. That laugh … He hadn’t heard it in
years. Those nights when he’d tried to stifle it with his lips, in vain …

“That was your fault,” he whispered, as he had in the past. “You never loved me.”

She laughed even harder. “Loved? You? David Golder? But could anyone love you? Do you want to leave your money to Joyce because you think she loves you, is that it? But she just loves your money, her as well, you fool! She’s gone off, hasn’t she, your Joyce? She’s left you, old, sick, and alone! But while you were close to death, she was out dancing, do you remember? I at least had the decency to stay with you. As for her, she’ll be dancing on your grave, you fool! Oh, yes, she loves you so much …”

“I don’t give a damn.”

He was trying to shout, but his tormented voice stuck strangled and hoarse in his throat. “I don’t give a damn. You don’t have to tell me, I already know, I know. Make money for everyone else, and then die, that’s why I was put on this filthy earth. Joyce is a little slut like you, I know that only too well, but she can’t hurt me, not her. She’s a part of me, she’s my daughter, she’s all I have in the world.”

“Your daughter!”

Gloria fell back on to the bed, shaking with the shrill laughter of a madwoman.

“Your daughter! Are you sure about that? You don’t know, do you, you who know so many things? Well, she’s not yours, do you understand? Your daughter is not yours at all. She’s Hoyos’s daughter, you fool! Haven’t you ever noticed how much she looks like him, how much she loves him? She guessed a long time ago, I’ll bet on it. Haven’t you ever noticed how we laugh when you kiss your Joyce, your precious daughter…”

She stopped short. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t speaking. She leaned over him. He hid his face in his hands.

“David… It isn’t true…” she whispered automatically. “Listen…”

But he wasn’t listening. He was crushing his face into his hands in shame. He didn’t hear her stand up, didn’t hear her pause for a moment at the door, didn’t see how she was looking at him.

Finally, she went out.