North (46 page)

"Nein! . . . nein! allein!
all alone!"

Its true I hadn't seen any other
feldgendarmes
. . . this itinerant gendarme covered a lot of ground . . .
allein! allein!
. . . and no youngster! . . . about fifty-five, I'd say . . . more white hair than me . . .

"Guten tag!
. . .
lebe wohl!
live well!"

Hefty handshake . . . and off he goes . . .

Well anyway, we'd had a bit to eat in that gully . . . I mull it over . . . but say, those other bozos . . . what have they done with all the meat they took?. . . I saw them . . . they each had a chunk . . . I never found out . . . but now I've got urgent business myself . . . sterilize my syringe . . . where'll I go? . . . to the farm? . . . or to Leonard over in the barn? . . . Leonard had a stove, a kind of Primus . . . or up to La Kretzer's? where'll there be the least talking, the least explaining to do . . . explanations stink! . . . meanwhile I'm explaining . . . to you! . . . with another thousand pages to go! if I was rich, I wouldn't explain anything! . . . no contract! no Achille! . . . I'd go to the seashore, I'd take a vacation . . . exhausted, my tongue hanging out . . . everybody'd be sorry for me . . .

Well? . . . where'd I have to talk the least? . . . at the farm, I think, with the
moujiks
, we don't know each other's language . . .

Damned if the gendarme isn't coming back! . . . he shakes hands with us again . . . hard! . . . his conscience . . . that "good-bye" of his had been too abrupt! . . . and
heil! heil!
he'd forgotten that! . . .

This time he splits . . . I'm alone with Le Vig . . . and these two gazaboes on my hands . . .

"Hm! . . . you think . . . ? you think . . . ?"

Le Vig asks me . . . he's starting to squint . . . now he wants me to explain . . . I wish he would just squint and keep still! . . . my patients are having trouble with their breathing . . . I'll get out the stethoscope later . . . I don't feel up to it now . . . Le Vig asks me if I'm cold . . .

"Look at the plain!"

"Say! Honest to God!"

"See anything?"

"No! . . . not a thing!"

"Good! . . . keep looking!"
^'

I want him to mind his business . . . right now, telling you this story, I could button up too . . . from my window up here there's no plain to look at . . . or Zornhof . . . or Moorsburg . . . or the two old men . . . wonder what's become of all that? . . . and the
Apotheke
. . . and Fontane in his bronze frock coat . . . and Kracht . . . and the old bag in her tower . . . and little Cillie . . . nobody knows . . . just talking about it people give me a funny look . . . I've run around seeing things . . . and people and estates and geese . . . that hadn't ought to have existed . . . if I had a little tact I wouldn't talk about such things . . .

Not many crows around here . . . plenty of gulls! gliding . . . high up in the sky . . . the first storms . . . up there they came from Warnemünde . . . here they must come from Dieppe . . . that's what people say . . . they've been saying so for years . . . and from even farther . . .

I admit, even abridging as much as possible, I'm asking a good deal of you . . . kind reader, patient beyond a doubt, almost attentive, friend or enemy, you're getting on to page one thousand and you're exhausted . . . stumbling, by my fault . . . in the course of this drawn-out pensum . . . over a word . . . here and there . . . stopped by a "shit" . . . oh, but how pleased you've been! . . . oh yes! . . . Théodule Ribot assures me that "man sees only what he looks at, and looks only at what he already has in mind" . . . from Bibot's words of wisdom . . . I don't have to tell you . . . to the conclusion that the reader's head is nothing but one big turd is an easy step . . . loathsome vengeance! especially coming from an author like myself, despised to the hilt by so many plagiarists, jealous individuals of every stripe and camp, right, left, and center . . . denounced as a monster and enemy of man, a traitor to everything from Cousteau, condemned to me, to Madeleine Jacob, the muse of the charnel house, from
l'Huma
to
l'Echo du Pape °
. . . agreement is rare among men, especially Frenchmen . . . you'll never find them agreeing about anybody's merits, virtues, or crimes . . . even dead drunk, vomiting, rolling on the floor . . . anybody, Landru, Petiot, Clemenceau, Foincaré, Pétain, William II, Mistinguett, de Gaulle, Dreyfus, Déroulède, or Bougrat . . . will throw them into dialectical controversies, interminable blahblah! . . . the little triumph of my existence, my tour de force, is getting them all . . . right, left, center, sacristies and lodges, cells and charnel houses, Comte de Paris, Joséphine, my Aunt Odile, Kroukroubezeff, and Abbé Piggybank ° . . . to agree that I'm the foremost living stinker! from Dunkirk to Tamanrasset, from the USSR to the USA . . . all these so-called horror movies make me laugh! . . . pathetic! . . . compared to me! . . . the dregs of degradation! . . . I've drained them! . . . We'd better get back to Prussia where I've left you out on a limb . . . to my so cheerless story! . . . my chronicle of those vast reaches of mud and thatch . . . the petty comings and goings and fears of those people so long since vanished! . . . how? . . . where? . . . of those villages . . .

But now let's be serious . . . my syringe . . . my syringesl am I finally going to sterilize them?

"Le Vig! . . . come with me!"

We've got to cross the park . . . it's already dark . . . the farmyard . . . I knock at the kitchen door . . . and the door at the foot of the stairs . . . I pound! . . . nothing! . . . silence! . . . okay! . . . they don't feel like answering . . . to hell with them! well try the barn . . . our two friends . . . they've got to be there! . . . sure thing! . . . their voices . . . "Hi!" . . . we , can't see their faces . . . no candle . . . anyway they haven't lit it . . . they say something, we can't hear them very well on account of the pigs . . . putting on a concert . . . hungry? . . . scared?. . . are they grunting! must be a thousand of them . . . Leonard's got something to tell me, he whispers in my ear, but very loud . . .

"You haven't forgotten us?"

"Oh no! . . . no! . . . thinking about you the whole time!"

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Thinking isn't enough!"

Kind of rude it seems to me . . . I was supposed to bring this . . . and that! . . . I hadn't had time! . . .

"We've got something to tell you . . ."

What's this going to be . . . the pigs are grunting louder and louder . . . I ask him, I'm interested . . .

"Don't worry about the pigs . . . you just take care of us before there's trouble!"

Kind of menacing . . .

"You wouldn't have a candle? . . . or a Primus?"

I know they've got both . . .

"No!"

"I've got to boil my syringe. . ."

"What for?"

"Old man von Leiden . . . and the
Revizor
. . . we've found them out on the plain . . ."

"Yes, we know . . . with the gendarme . . . let 'em croak! . . . what about us! don't we exist?"

"Of course you exist . . . I'll get you everything you want!"

"When?"

"Right away! quick trip to the manor! but first boil my syringes! . . . ten minutes!"

Why not? . . . if they insist . . . I can't see them . . . they're whispering again . . . about us for sure . . . will they or won't they? . . . yes! . . . they're willing . . . Joseph goes back into the bam . . . for the Primus . . . he's got it . . . he pumps . . . he pumps . . . and he lights it . . . fine . . . a little water . . .

"Ten minutes!" I tell them . . . "Not two! wait till we get back!" . . .

The Primus gives a bit of light . . . I can see them a little . . . I look at them, no need to whisper any more . . . Joseph asks me . . .

"They in bad shape?"

"Yes, bad!"

"Bring rum and gin and pernod . . . as much as you can find! and all the cigars!"

"Why?"

"Harras is coming back!"

Very well informed . . .

"Will do!"

"We'll remember
you!"

These two shit-ass punks . . . their way of remembering us is bound to be something sweet! . . . anyway, with one comeback and another, the syringes boiled a while . . . not ten minutes but at least five. . . that'll do! . . . I'd better take them with me . . .

"Wait for us . . . well be right back . . . I'll return your pot . . ."

Back through the yard . . . the gravel walk through the woods . . .

Le Vig asks me . . .

"What do you think?"

"Nothing!"

It's not as dark as in the barn, the clouds give off a little light . . . pink and pale green . . . nice for a country fair . . . the peristyle . . . and the drawing room . . . now for the camphorated oil . . . two ampuls each . . .

"Lili, the candle!"

She'd been waiting for us . . . everything we needed . . . well, pretty near . . . my box of ampuls . . . but no alcohol or cotton . . . quick, two ccs. each . . . they're no better than before . . . but at least they're breathing . . . a slight fever, I'd say . . . I should have bought a thermometer in Moorsburg . . . I should have done a lot of things in Moorsburg! . . . I ask Lili . . . "Are they hungry?" No, not hungry! . . . they've vomited . . . ah, the meat! . . . the water! good reason! . . . maybe they'd vomit some more . . . we'd see, we had the whole night ahead of us . . . right now my job was to dive into the cupboard and take the liquor and cigars . . . do what those greasers wanted . . . stuff them to the gills! . . . damn shame, wasting it on those goops! . . . but it couldn't be helped . . . what could they have to tell me?

"Le Vig, get me a sack . . . downstairs!"

"What kind of a sack?"

"A beet sack! a big one, empty!"

"What are you going to put in it?"

"Everything! . . . quick!"

He finally gets started . . .

"You, Lili, go up to the heiress's . . . to her library . . . bring down a geography book! . . . a big one with maps! . . . especially Denmark! hurry!"

Lili never takes long about anything . . . the only trouble is she'll ask me what I want in Denmark . . . I'll tell her to keep it under her hat and she will . . . Le Vig comes up with two enormous sacks . . . good for him! . . . I'm going to give those shifty brutes a big blowout, get them good and stinko . . .
waah!
. . . throwing up like the old geezers! . . . I've got a hunch they know something . . . right now my only chance is a little trick . . . we'll see . . . those two oilcans knew the contents of that cupboard better than I did . . . I'd never really searched it, only my daily quota of Luckies and not for us! . . . I'd liberated five six cartons in all . . .

"LeVig! . . . lift!"

I show him the panel at the back . . . he pushes up . . . it slides . . . we look in! man! . . . the supplies! . . . enough for ten twenty years! . . . boxes and cartons! . . . Harras hadn't been globetrotting through the air for nothing! . . . but underneath! what's underneath? . . . our two blatherskites knew! . . . a whole basket of champagne! . . . we can't bring them all this! . . . a case of pernod! . . . okay! . . . cigars! . . . Havanas! . . . a whole shelf! . . . plus, lower down, cans of sardines! . . . and caviar! . . . and hams! . . . we hadn't seen anything! . . . but they knew! Ali Baba's cupboard! we'd only grazed the surface . . . and not for ourselves . . . for ourselves
nichts! nix!
. . . you can say that again! . . . all for Kracht! and under coercion! . . . if anybody asks us . . . a little Navy Cut for the
bibels
' kitchen all right! I admit it . . . clean breast!

Le Vig thinks I'm nuts . . .

"You're not going to bring them all that?"

He sees me piling it into the sack . . .

"I'm leaving some . . ."

The cupboard is still three-quarters full . . . at least! . . . there's plenty! . . . but let's get going! . . . can't keep those bastards waiting! . . . I've got a feeling they're dangerous . . . I didn't think so at first, but now I see they've got something up their sleeve . . .

"Okay, let's go!"

We each pick up a bag . . . I only take one cane . . . I can manage if we go slow . . . we know the park like a book . . . even groping in the dark . . . the path through the trees . . . I see a candle . . . in the Gypsy wagon, over on the right . . . no light in the isbas . . . up in the sky still the
v-r-r-r
of the Fortresses . . . and the long beams in the clouds . . . the search-fights . . . and way off in the distance the fires . . . pink . . . that's not Berlin any more, can't be anything left of it . . . they must be clobbering the shell holes . . . I'll spare you the
booms!
and
boo-ooms!
I've given you plenty of those . . . the tedious thunder! . . . and the trembling of the leaves and copses . . . all that . . . the thundering and trembling went on for six eight months . . . day and night . . . the leaves, I say . . . the cobbles too . . . in the yard . . . the manure pit . . . the barn . . .

"That you?"

"Yeah! . . . we've got it!"

I tell them . . . I'm not wasting any time . . .

"Get the candles!"

A little tiny one . . . and matches . . .

They see we haven't come empty-handed!

"Say! . . . Say!"

They knew there was plenty . . . but not this much! . . . champagne! . . . port wine! . . . foie gras! . . . absinthe! . . .

"That's not all! There's more to come!"

"Well, blow me down!"

They empty the sacks! . . . what a display! . . . they look at the bottles, the labels . . .

"That's not all! . . . there's plenty left! . . . isn't there, Le Vig?"

"Sure! . . . another cupboard!"

That's an exaggeration . . .

"Say! . . . say!"

It's even more than they thought . . . they sit down . . . Léonard puts his arm around Joseph's neck . . . they do a jig . . . they're delighted . . .

"What a haul!"

They can't get over it . . .

"What do you think of it?"

They ask questions . . .

"Is it genuine absinthe?"

Léonard doesn't want to be cheated . . .

"Seventy percent! can't you read, damn it?"

"Right! . . . sure, we can read! there's more, you say?"

Léonard doesn't want to irritate me . . .

"You want us to bring you more?"

We're talking in the dark with the candle out . . .

"Yes! yes! . . . but don't call us . . . we'll know it's you . . . just chuck it all over there . . ."

The pile of straw on the left . . .

They're still suspicious . . . hell, so am I! . . . they should croak!

"You'll bring more?"

"Sure!"

I hear Joseph rummaging in his pocket . . . he's looking for a corkscrew . . .

"I'll open it!"

Pop!
he's got it out! . . . yum! he's tasting it!

"Good stuff?"

"Yeah!. . . the real thing!"

Time to get out of there . . . now Leonard's tasting . . .
myum!

"Okay, Léonard, speak up . . . this secret . . . we're waiting . . . you've been stalling long enough!"

Time for a showdown, it seems to me . . .

"Spit it out!"

"Well, you see, it's not so simple . . . we're getting out of here too . . ."

Ah, now we're getting somewhere!

"You and Joseph?"

"Yes!"

What direction? . . . hell, that's their business . . . do they want to drink and smoke it all up before leaving . . . is that their idea? . . . no . . . they want to take the bottles with them! . . . how and where? . . . with a wheelbarrow? . . . their business! . . . but what do they want of us? . . . to bring them sacks of pernod?

"Listen, you two! . . . you three! . . . don't leave your wife at the manor . . . tomorrow the Gypsies are putting on a comedy for the
Landrat
and the von Leidens . . ."

"I thought it was canceled . . ."

"Hooey! . . . the whole village is going! . . . and Kracht! . . . counter-order from Berlin! . . . they'll all be there!"

"Berlin?"

"Yes! . . . yes! . . . stick with Kracht . . . they're doing it at the
bibelforschers
', their sawmill . . . you know . . . the
Tanzhalle
. . . be there all three of you! show yourselves! . . . and don't leave before the end! . . . not before the end! . . . that's what we had to tell you!"