North (47 page)

"I thought they'd postponed it . . ."

"No! I've just told you, it's tomorrow night! . . . stick with Kracht! . . . and now beat it! . . . you won't have time, for another trip . . . they must have seen you from the Gypsy wagon . . . they see everything! . . . don't come back! . . . on your way by tomorrow . . . with your messkits . . . hide a box in your pants . . ."

"Of what?"

"First cigars! . . . just chuck them in . . . it won't make any noise . . . on the left . . ."

"Only cigars?"

"Yes, to begin with . . . after that well see . . . You won't tell anybody?"

"No! . . . never!"

I never did . . . even after all these years I'm not telling you their names . . . I could . . . their real names, I mean . . .

Memory and discretion . . . that's me! . . .

I expected them to talk about our expedition, etc.  . . . our finding the old man . . . and the
Revizor
. . . I thought they'd talk so much that I'd have to squelch them . . . not a word! at the table . . . the
mahlzeit
. . . or at the sawmill, or the one-armed sergeant and the
bibelforschers
. . . silence! . . . not even La Kretzer in her room . . . like nothing had happened . . . that Kretzer bitch so keen on gossip! . . . zero! . . . they must have some reason . . . nobody brings it up . . . nobody asks if the two of them are feeling better or if they've had a good night . . . same for the heiress in her tower, and she was pretty kindhearted . . . she seemed to be fond of her brother, she'd given us blankets for him, but she hadn't come down to see him . . . no! . . . same with the
Revizor
, nobody'd asked if there was any hope of recovery . . . and the Kretzers, had every reason to take an interest, he'd come to check their accounts . . . the
Dienstelle
ledgers . . . you'd have expected a glimmer of curiosity . . . no! not a word! . . . and her so hysterical, always on the lookout . . . they simply left us . . . Lili, Le Vig, and me . . . to take care of the patients . . . our headache! . . . Kracht, I've got to admit, showed a little more concern . . . he knew I was running out of camphorated oil . . . so was Germany . . . none to be bad at Mathias's in Moorsburg or in Berlin . . . but he had some "cardiazol" in his private stock . . . cardiazol was dangerous . . . an effective heart stimulant, but too violent . . . still, if I couldn't get any oil, cardiazol was better than nothing . . . even provided by Kracht? . . . I was wondering . . . hell! . . . why always so suspicious? . . . I prepare the solution and my syringe, I give them both shots . . . they're in really bad shape . . . kerflooey . . . if we hadn't turned up . . . with the gendarme . . . the wild women would have finished them . . . well, they weren't much better off . . . they must have quite a few fractures . . . in the head, the legs, the chest . . . I could see little trickles of blood . . . but I couldn't palpate them too much! . . . too painful . . . what was the use? . . . the best I could do was keep their hearts beating more or less . . . cardiazol . . . Kracht's . . . in very small doses . . . first injection . . . I auscultate them . . . no bad reaction . . . we can go fill our messkits, well see what they have to say over there . . . if it's true that the Gypsy festival is on again . . . if they're getting the hall ready . . .

"Let's go, Le Vig! . . . you, Lili, stay here, we won't be long . . . don t move, don't go anywhere . . . look and listen . . . make sure they're breathing all right . . . if you hear them gasping or if they call . . . run over and get me . . . you know where, at the
Tanzhalle!
"

Not a soul in the park . . . on the road a few housewives . . . chewing the fat . . . they know us . . . they don't look at us . . . the geese know us too . . . they poke around in their ponds, stirring up the muck . . . they don't even come out to the road to insult us, they don't flap their wings . . . total indifference! . . . we go by . . . here's the
Tanzhalle
. . . quick, our mess-kits! . . . I ask the cook . . . "you getting ready for tomorrow? . . . I only had to look . . . die whole place is full of 
bibelforschers
and they're not lying down on the job . . . the whole lot of them moving out crates and big tool boxes and power drills! . . . and raking and sweeping and what-have-you! . . . mountains of crap! the junk had been piling up for years . . . and there hadn't been any dancing for years either . . . this
Tanzhalle
had been used for everything . . . barracks, supply room, shooting gallery, sawmill, bowling alley . . . they'll need at least two days to straighten it out . . .

"Expect to be ready by tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? . . . hell! this evening!"

All right with me . . . they haven't said a word about the
Revizor
, or about Uhlan von Leiden . . . but they know, that's for sure! . . . I wasn't going to bring it up . . . we leave . . .
"guten tag!
so long!" . . . we pass the housewives again . . . same mugs, looking somewhere else . . . they don't see us . . .

At the manor we get right back to our two stiffs! they're no worse . . . but they should have recovered consciousness and they haven't . . . they've taken a lot of punishment, but with the cardiazol they should at least open their eyes . . . or even change sides . . . I ask Lili . . . no! . . . they've shat in their pants, that's all . . . they've taken a spoonful of water . . . but no food . . . I try to give them a bit of soup . . . no! they refuse . . . I couldn't call it cussedness . . . it's their stomachs . . . well, they can wait . . . we've got other things to do . . . not just take care of these capricious wrecks . . . our
mahlzeit
,
heil!
. . . but first the barn, our worrisome palookas, those bandits of the pigsty . . . gadzooks, plenty of activity! . . . when I compare what I am now, pretty near as doddering as old man von Leiden, the errant Uhlan, I say to myself: it's happened so quickly! . . . life has been hard on me! . . . of course it could have been worse . . . in Buchenwald or Montrouge ° . . . well see what happens next! . . .

We get the cigars . . . two boxes each, the long kind, Havanas . . . no trouble stowing them inside our belts, we haven't put on weight . . . Le Vig has tight-fitting pants à la Gauloise, he'd be in fashion now . . . me, big baggy ones, corduroy, pre-1914, "ditchdigger-ardsr style . . . but the bottoms of the legs are gone, I left them in the beets when I was crawling . . . room for three boxes in my belt . . . so has Le Vig, but two's enough . . . here we are at the barn . . . I throw our boxes in where they told me, way in back, over the pigs . . . the pigs don't grunt, they're asleep . . . the geese are asleep too, around the manure pit. . . it's never been so quiet . . . we've got rid of our Havanas, now for the
mahlzeit!
. . . now we'll hear something . . . if they haven't decided to button up . . . after all we've brought them back the Uhlan . . . and the
Revizor!
. . . that ought to rate some comment . . . we'd put the hundred wild women to flight . . . who were ready to devour both of them . . . all three! . . . I'm counting Bleuette . . . all of which was abominable, exhausting, and dangerous . . . I'm not expecting gratitude or effusions! no! . . . just one word: bravo!

Nothing doing!

As usual I fill the holster on the hatrack with Luckies, Navy Cut and three Havanas . . . I'm spoiling Kracht! . . . I'll give some to the housewives on my way to the messhall, to cheer them up! . . . and to all the
moujiks!
. . . and the pigs! . . . so there won't be anything left in the cupboard! . . . as long as the
Reichsgesund
's in Portugal or Keokuk . . . and doesn't give a shit about us and our troubles! . . . here go the Luckies! . . . we empty our pockets! . . . and now the soup . . . I'm expecting them to ask me the news . . . how our two beat-ups are getting along . . . and our adventures out on the plain . . . how we'd made it back . . . they don't ask me a thing . . . they talk about everything else . . . their work . . . silly details . . . they'd lost a receipt . . . a stamp was missing . . . the soup would be better with caraway seed . . . you'd think they'd be interested in the
Revizor
. . . he checks all their ledgers . . . not at all! . . . I take a chance . . . "he's better!" nobody answers, their noses go down . . . they dont want to hear, and that's that . . . the
Rittmeister
, I can understand . . . his masquerescapade . . . his gallop across the plain with bared saber . . . but the
Revizor
, a Reich official, conscientious, well behaved! a victim of provincial railroad stations and syphilitic furies! . . . I was waiting to see what Frau Kretzer . . . she'd recovered from her fit and come down to the
mahlzeit
. . . the champion gossip . . . would have to say . . . what kind of angel food she'd come up with . . . I prod her . . . I even provoke her . . .

"They're better! . . . both of them!"

She neither . . . she doesn't hear me! she asks me a question instead, nothing to do with my two old geezers . . .

"Are you coining too, Doctor?"

"Where?"

"To the Gypsy festival, of course!"

"Oh, I should think so! . . . me and my wife and my friend! . . . and my cat!"

Some little game! . . . I've got to nip it in the bud . . . and make it clear to every single one of them . . . and first of all to this furious blabbermouth and have them repeat it! . . . that well all be at the
Tanzhalle!
. . . not one of us left at the manor! . . . all at the Gypsy festival! . . . all three of us! . . . and a little more for good measure!

"Well have our fortunes told! I believe in it! . . . don't you, Frau Kretzer?"

"Certainly! certainly, Doctor!"

Oh, it's so funny! . . . not all that funny! . . . because I'm leading up to something . . . I turn to Kracht . . .

"Well go with you . . . won't we, my dear friend?"

"Certainly! . . . certainly, Doctor!"

He can't say no . . . I've upset the whole table with my talk about the plain and the two jugheads, and my health bulletin . . . all those people with their noses in their plates knew something . . . anyway they knew enough to keep quiet about anything more or less military . . . I know one thing myself, that I won't go anywhere without Kracht . . . Leonard knows something too . . . but what? . . . Harras coming back? . . . seems doubtful . . . terrible liars these candlelight bandits . . . we'll see . . . anyway at the
Tanzhalle
they're not talking . . . though they certainly know plenty . . . something more afoot than this Gypsy entertainment, this "Morale Through Joy"
Göbbelsfest
. . . the farm's not talking either, and Marie-Thérèse hasn't been down to see us . . . I asked her . . . to come and see her brother . . . no! . . . which reminds me . . . the geography book . . . Lili's found a beauty, it's in the drawing room, waiting for me . . . I go in . . . an enormous book . . . all Brandenburg and Schleswig . . . the coasts, the seaports, the ocean bottom . . . just what I wanted . . . but it's time for another
mahlzeit
. . . let's go! . . . Kretzer dishes it out "Strength Through Joy" soup . . . two ladles each . . . I'm feeling frisky . . . my gag . . . I say it again . . . I make her laugh . . . deep and throaty . . . her special old-hyena laugh . . . but she doesn't put on her act . . . insulting the big portrait . . . we're out of luck . . . no big-time hysterics . . . take it from me: something's cooking . . . better not hang around, they'll hold us responsible . . .
heil! heil!
back to the drawing room . . . to our dear patients! our two part-time stiffs . . . the
Revizor
's a little better . . . he's even skying something . . . I come close . . . "he's stopped breathing!" . . . he means the
Rittmeister
, his neighbor . . . I auscultate . . . he's breathing, but by fits and starts . . . heartbeat weak and irregular . . . I'm afraid to give him a shot . . . I'll wait . . .

"His skull must be split . . . what do you think? . . . they hit him on the head . . . hard! . . . twice a day! . . . ten of them . . . twenty!"

The
Revizor
's a good deal better . . . he takes an interest in his surroundings . . .

"What's that woman laughing about?"

He means Frau Kretzer . . . laughing! . . . through one . . . two . . . three walls . . .

That's the head bookkeeper's wife . . . she's laughing about 'Strength Through Joy'!" . . .

"Oh, the head bookkeeper . . ."

He's thinking it over . . . I won't give him any more cardiazol . . . he tells me his leg pains him . . . I look . . . the fibula . . . slight fracture . . . nothing I can do . . .
"Herr Revizor
, keep still . . . don't move . . . well see in a few days . . ."

Words of comfort . . .

A reasonable sort, I think . . . not an old lunatic like the Uhlan, sallying forth to retake Berlin and make mincemeat of the Cossacks . . . a graying conscientious civil servant, nothing more . . . coming out to check the books . . . and he'd fallen in with those ferocious flossies . . . they hadn't cut him into little pieces, but the will wasn't lacking . . . and he knew it. . .

"You're French?"

"Yes! . . . yes."

"A refugee?"

"Yes!"

"They told me about you in Berlin . . ."

I don't want to tire him . . . I want him to sleep . . .

Tomorrow . . . well talk tomorrow . . ."

Outside if s still the same, the Fortresses coming and going . . . they never stop . . . and
boo-oom!
. . . hyena Kretzer doesn't stop either . . . she wants us to hear her, she knows we're listening . . .
Ach! ach! boom!
the bombs make her laugh! . . . and what a laugh! . . . I'm telling you: through two three walls . . . us there with our gasping slaphappies, at least they leave us alone . . . but not really! not really! all of a sudden they all start roaring . . . the whole lot of them! a gale! downstairs . . .

But I've got things to do!

"Lili, the geography book! . . ."