The Complete Works of Isaac Babel Reprint Edition by Isaac Babel, Nathalie Babel, Peter Constantine (111 page)

524. The attendant brings in another bottle. Rogdai pours himself some absinthe and drinks.

525. Rogdais long, extended neck, bulging out as he gulps down the alcohol.

526. The main entrance of the theater. The ushers open the doors. The crowd pours into the lobby, people jostling and elbowing one another.

527. The street urchins hop off the pillars, and go scampering over and under the crowd into the lobby.

528. One of the theaters flights of stairs. Disheveled, excited people are rushing up the steps. A man in front is waving the remnants of a walking stick in the air.

529. Another flight of stairs. A mass of people, among them Baulin and Rachel, are running toward the upper balconies.

530. The dazzlingly lit auditorium. The audience is pouring in from all sides.

531. In the foyer. Professor Reti, who has not lost an iota of his enthusiasm, is addressing a group of young people crowding around him:

532. “HE WAS MY PUPIL, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”

533. The crowd gathers around the old man. He talks to them enthusiastically about his pupil and the incredible story of his career.

534. A group of Russians are sitting in the cheapest seats in the top balcony. They laugh, jostle one another, and act the way happy young people sitting in balcony seats do all over the world. Baulin gives Rachel an orange, which she bites into.

535. The plush railing of a theater box. On it lie a carved fan, opera glasses studded with pearls, a long box of sweets. Helene s hands unwrap a sweet and then push it aside.

536. In Baroness Grennier s theater box. Helene, in a low-cut gown, is sitting motionless and breathtakingly pale next to her mother, who is wearing an elegant black hat. In the depths of the box, Count San Salvador and Baron Sant’ Iago are serenely sleeping, decked out in their inevitable medals and ribbons.

537. The first rows of seats, expensive theater boxes. Women in low-cut gowns eyeing each other through their lorgnettes. Immaculately washed and shaven men.

538. The Russians have finally sat down. Rachel has finished eating her orange. She turns to Baulin:

539. “THEY SAY THAT HE’S ORIGINALLY RUSSIAN.”

540. Baulin answers, “I dont know.” He hands her another orange. Laughing, she gives him half of it.

541. Rogdai is tuning his violin in his dressing room.

542. The audience sitting in its seats. The ushers close the doors. The chandeliers slowly extinguish.

543. The extinguishing chandeliers. Their yellow, dying light.

544. The curtain rises. On the stage, the symphony orchestra is waiting for the conductor.

545. Rogdai has tuned his violin. He plucks a few chords, one quieter than the next, puts his violin down, and disappears behind a curtain. An attendant comes rushing in:

546. "YOU’RE ON!”

547. Behind the curtain Rogdai is injecting himself with morphine.

548. On stage. The conductor walks up to his podium. His eyes dart about, looking for Rogdai.

549. The attendant running frantically back and forth in Rogdais dressing room.

550. “YOU’RE ON!”

551. Rogdai comes out from behind the curtain. He picks up his violin and runs out toward the stage.

552. The auditorium. Darkness. Silence. Hundreds of hands begin to clap.

553. The lit-up stage, shot from a distance. Rogdai, a tiny shape diminished by the distance, walks toward the footlights and bows.

554. Rachel’s hands unclasp, dropping a program and a piece of orange.

555. The program, swaying in the air, floats down from the top balcony and lands on somebody’s head.

556. Rachel’s face. She lunges forward in the grip of a terrible emotion. She shouts:

557. “LEV!”

558. Baulin covers her mouth.

559. The stage, shot from a distance. Rogdai plays.

560. The cashier is running down the corridor. He is holding an iron strongbox filled with money.

561. A corner of Rodgai’s dressing room. Maffi is checking the stubs of the sold tickets. The cashier comes running in and triumphantly puts the money box in front of Maffi.

562. “FULL HOUSE, SIGNOR MAFFI! THE THEATER’S FILLED TO THE RAFTERS!”

563. Maffi takes a pile of banknotes out of the box, a tic flashing across his face. The whole table is littered with banknotes.

564. The pile of money on the table. Maffi’s large white hands cover the scattered banknotes, a magnificent ring of unusual shape sparkling on his index finger.

565. The sparkling diamond in Maffi’s ring. Within the diamond. . .

566. . . . Rogdai’s fingers flying with diabolic speed over the strings.

567. Professor Reti, filled with enthusiasm, is annoying his neighbors. He is gesticulating, humming along, flapping his arms.

568. Rogdai’s pale, distorted, inspired face. His chin is pressed against the violin.

569. Maffis fingers, counting the money.

570. Rogdai s violin, his singing bow, his hair tousled.

571. Maffis fingers, counting the money. Helenes hand touches them.

572. Maffi raises his head. Helene is standing in front of him.

573. “VITTORIO,”

574. she says tenderly.

575. “YOU DONT LOVE ME, VITTORIO.”

576. A suppressed yawn bulges Maffi s jaw and cheekbones. He battles the yawn spreading over his face without lowering his intent eyes from Helene.

577. “I... DO LOVE YOU...”

578. he mutters, reluctantly bending over and kissing her hand, on which there are four bloody marks scratched by her hysterical nails.

579. Rogdai s fingers flying over the strings.

580. The chandeliers, their lights extinguished, hanging below the ornate ceiling of the theater. Their lamps begin to fill with yellow light and burn brightly.

581. Hundreds of applauding hands. The first part of the program has ended.

582. The flight of stairs. Bare, gray walls. Rachel is running down the stairs.

583. Rogdai in his dressing room. He is surrounded by a crowd of admirers. The women are clapping their hands right in front of his face. Gesticulating, enthusiastic Professor Reti comes lunging toward him. Helene passes between them. Rogdai pushes away the people crowding around him and takes Helene to the other side of the dressing room. He asks her with a gasp:

584. “FOR THE LAST TIME, HELENE—YES OR NO?”

585. Helene pulls away her hand, and vacantly answers:

586. “YES,YES,YES...”

587. And she leaves.

588. Rachel is running down the stairs along the dull, gray walls.

589. Rogdai turns to one of the fops clapping in his face:

590. “TONIGHT I WANT TO GET DRUNK!”

591. The fop stands to attention and salutes:

592. “AYE-AYE, CAPTAIN!”

593. Outside Rogdais dressing-room door. An attendant stops Rachel, who is trying to enter.

594. “I WANT TO SEE ROGDAI!”

595. she shouts, pushing back the attendant. He raises his arm threateningly. Maffi juts his head out of the dressing room.

596. “WHAT’S ALL THIS RACKET?”

597. Rachel rushes to Maffi, begging him to let her in. Maffi bows to her. His bow is very refined, elegant, and barely perceptible.

598. “MAY I BE SO BOLD AS TO ASK YOUR NAME, MADEMOISELLE?”

599. Rachel:

600. “I AM RACHEL MONKO, A ... A COMPATRIOT OF ROGDArS.”

601. The Italian bows to her a second time, takes her rough, red hand with its badly cut fingernails, and, before lifting it to his lips, glances at her slyly, holding her shivering fingers in his large, calm hand. She tugs her hand away, he kisses her wrist, bows a third time, and says:

602. “WE MUST NOT PERTURB ROGDAI DURING HIS CONCERT. IF YOU WOULD NOT MIND COMING TO MY PLACE, HE SHOULD BE THERE IN ABOUT AN HOUR....”

603. Rachel presses Maffis hands. He takes a powder box and some lipstick out of his vest pocket and hands them to Rachel, who looks at him in dismay.

604. “WOULD YOU NOT LIKE TO FIX YOUR FACE A LITTLE?”

605. Rachel shrinks back. A pocket in her dress opens and the muzzle of a small Browning peers out.

606. Maffis fingers snap the powder box shut.

607. The muzzle of the Browning, peering out of Rachels pocket.

608. Maffi slips the powder and the lipstick back into his vest pocket, and accompanies Rachel out.

609. The main entrance of the theater. Maffi s car. The driver is dozing inside—neither his face nor his hands are visible. The driver

is wrapped in a fur coat that rises above the steering wheel like a formless, furry lump. It is hard to guess if there is a man hidden beneath that rough, protruding mound. Maffi and Rachel walk up to the car. Maffi helps her into the car and slams the door shut, waking up the driver. The drivers small, wrinkled, and surprisingly indifferent face slowly emerges out of the incredible heap of fur. Maffi tells him where to drive to and jumps into the car. The cars lights flare up. Two swift rays light up the street. The car drives off.

610. Night. A Berlin street. High up, dazzling electric lights are gyrating in the form of a violin and the letters “LEO ROGDAI.”

611. The car. It is leaving the city center, weaving its way through carts carrying butchered pigs to market.

612. The walk lined with plane trees outside Villa Grennier. Night. The swaying treetops. Below, Maffis car is flying through the streets, its headlights’ two fiery shafts flying before it.

613. The baronesss salon. Night. A Venetian window. The moon, floating past the window, casts its deathly rays on a statue standing in a niche by the window, on the eyeless marble face of Apollo.

614. Maffi and Rachel get out of the car. The Italian takes a rose from a little vase fixed to the inside of the car and offers it to Rachel.

615. The lobby of the Villa Grennier. The bell rings. The doorman opens the door. Maffi takes him aside and, with a severe air, orders him to do something. The doorman, a well-built fellow with a handsome, dubious face, gives Rachel a sidelong glance.

616. The Grennier salon. The doorman turns on the light. Maffi points Rachel to a chair next to the statue of Apollo, and makes himself comfortable in a chair opposite her. He lights a cigar. Rachel:

617. “I THINK WE HAVE TO GET ROGDAI TO END HIS CONTRACT WITH HIS IMPRESARIO. HE IS ILL, HE HAS TO RECUPERATE! DONT YOU AGREE?”

618. Maffi nods his head. The door of the salon opens a crack. Rachel jumps up and stands rigidly by the statue.

619. A police officer enters the room. Rachel, ready to bolt, sees the policeman and the parting of his hair, combed down to a meticulous shine. Maffi bows to the policeman, pulls the revolver out of Rachels pocket, lays it on the table, and, pointing at Rachel, says:

620. “ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE YOU TO RACHEL MONKO, A CRIMINAL FUGITIVE FROM RUSSIA WHO IS TO BE IMMEDIATELY DELIVERED INTO THE HANDS OF THE RUSSIAN AUTHORITIES.”

621. Rachels face, turned toward Maffi. She throws away the flower that Maffi had given her. The crushed rose falls onto the Browning.

622. The rose and the revolver.

Part fit

623. A platter with a roasted fowl exquisitely laid out with its plumage. The fowl has been used as an ashtray by a group of drinkers, cigarette butts sticking out all over it.

624. The platter is lying in the middle of the table, which is covered with plates and spilled wine. Rogdais hand stubbing out a smoking cigarette in the fowl.

625. A private room in the restaurant. Dawn. The remains of the shameful banquet. Rogdai, swaying, takes a few steps.

626. He steps over the unconscious body of a man lying on the floor. The mans legs are bent in a sitting position: he had been about to bite into a chunk of beefsteak speared on the end of his fork when he fell asleep and off his chair.

627. The sky lights up. The sun is rising.

628. A street in Berlin. A lone janitor is sweeping the sidewalk outside the Hotel Imperial. He leans on his broom, pulls up his shirt and scratches his belly, and, raising his tousled head to the sky, opens his mouth in a long, obstinate, shuddering yawn.

629. The barrel of a cement mixer can be seen through branches lit by the sun. A group of homeless children are sleeping in the barrel, their filthy little bodies in a tangle. One of them wakes up, sneezes, stretches his thin blackened hands to the sky, and winks at a drunkard who is leaning against the barrel. The drunkard is Rogdai. He is wearing a coat and tails, elegant shoes, and a battered top hat that is slipping off his head.

630. Rogdai lifts his top hat, his dull eyes fixed vacantly on the winking boy. He walks off, swaying.

631. Baulins cramped little room next to the boiler. Bloated veins—the boiler pipes—cut through Baulins room; the room is clenched between the pipes’ dusty paws. A shabby, bearded man, obviously Russian, is pacing up and down the room. His endless pacing smacks of lengthy imprisonment. He has worn a path from one corner to the other. This polished path shines against the rough-hewn floor. Next to the room is the boiler for central heating. Baulin is shoveling coal into the boiler.

632. Baulin lights the fire and crushes some coal with a hammer. He is working absentmindedly, and by mistake keeps hitting an old shoe lying next to the coal. Sadness has made him incapable of work. He has battered the shoe to a pulp without even noticing. He throws down the hammer and heads back to his room. The bearded man stops pacing the room and, looking Baulin in the eye, says:

633. “WELL, COMRADE BAULIN, WE HAVE NO OBJECTION TO YOUR RETURNING TO RUSSIA TO UNDERTAKE CLANDESTINE WORK FOR OUR CAUSE.”

634. Baulin nods his head. He walks over toward the window located high up, right under the ceiling. Outside the window, stumbling feet in elegant shoes—Rogdai’s feet.

635. The laundry in the Hotel Imperial. A Chinese man has fallen asleep on a heap of starched mens shirts he has ironed. A thin stream of spittle is trickling from the sleeping mans mouth and onto a shining shirtfront. Rachels workbench is empty. Baulin enters the laundry. He leans over Rachels workbench, looks at the clock. It is three in the morning.

636. The sun is rising above the walk lined with plane trees leading to the Villa Grennier.

637. Rogdai, bumping into trees, is stumbling toward the villa.