North (15 page)

"How old is he?"

The girls don't know . . . I'd say three . . . three and a half . . .

"Who's he belong to?"

"He's my brother!"

Harras cuts her short . . .

"They're lying! all of them! always! . . . never fails, colleague . . ."

"What's his name?"

"Thomas . . ."

Thomas looks at us . . . we palpate him . . . we turn him over . . . we auscultate him . . . heart all right, no ganglia, no rickets, healthy kid . . . our feeling him makes him laugh . . . we look down his throat . . . nothing . . . the
frau
talks Polish to him, very gently . . . he laughs some more . . . a friendly kid . . . at us too . . . he points . . . he wants something . . . what? we look . . . in the bottom of his nest. . . in the trunk . . . a doll's arm . . . that's it! he wants it! . . . he walks off with it . . . he walks pretty well for his age, three, three and a half . . . he goes where he's told, obedient . . . a little wobbly . . . he's had quite a trip! . . . he walks around barefoot on the gravel, he holds out his doll's arm to us . . . to the
frau
majordomo . . . and to Harras, and then to the
Volkssturms
. . . he wants us to play tool with all that bouncing he must have some bruises . . . we pick him up and feel him again . . . two three little black-arid-blue marks, nothing! strong kid! . . . Harras thinks enough is enough, the girls have cried enough, they should get up and take their kid away . . . they should all beat it!

"Frau Schwartz! bitte!"

Ah, that's it . . . Schwartz . . . her name is Schwartz . . . she should take them away . . .

"Good-bye, Thomas!"

Our trip to Felixruhe hasn't been a total loss . . . we've brought back some help . . .

"I came back fast, didn't I?"

"Yes, pretty fast . . ."

"But now it's all over . . . it was necessary!"

Anyway, I've got to admit, we didn't come to grief . . .

"Otto, if you please . . .
butter brötschen!
. . . sandwiches . . . platters . . . the works!"

"This way, Madame!"

I could see that Le Vig wanted to talk to me . . .

"Later . . . later . . ."

Yes, I grant you, anybody can recognize a fever, a cough, diarrhea, these obvious symptoms are for the general public . . . but only the subtler signs are of interest to a clinician . . . Fm getting to an age where, though I'm not a moralist, not at all, the recollection of petty crummeries, thousands and thousands of them, parallel and contradictory, gives me food for thought . . . which reminds me that I've been chided quite a lot for going on about my misfortunes, making a fuss . . . "Bah! the conceited ass, you'd think he had a monopoly on certain difficulties!" . . . Leaping lizards! yes and no! . . . how many insulting letters do I get every day? seven or eight. . . and letters of fulsome admiration? . . . almost as many . . . did I ask for either? no! never! . . . an anarchist I am, was, remain, and I don't give a damn what anybody thinks! of course I'm not the only one who's had "certain difficulties". . . But what have the others done with their "certain difficulties''? . . . they've used them, at least as much as the opposite camp, to smear me with! exposed, vulnerable as I was . . . a perfect target for every possible kidney punch . . . you can imagine whether they took advantage! . . . this side and the other side! . . . alleged enemies . . . come and get it!

"He laments!" . . . 'sbodkins, I tell you, it's not over! the Wailing Wall is solider than ever! two thousand years! . . . behold and wonder! . . . the Wall of China is a good deal older! . . . and the day it falls you'll all be under it, powdered brick! . . .

But let's not lose you again! . . . we were in Grünwald . . . fruit juice, sandwiches, mineral water . . . caviar . . . marmalade . . . chicken . . . so good to us! . . . what was behind it? . . . but those divans were so puffed up, so bloated with cushions, that even with ihy rotten headache I couldn't help falling asleep . . .

It must have been two three hours later that Harras turned up . . .

"Colleague, forgive me for waking you, if s necessary! . . . you do forgive me! Your degree! . . . I need it! I'd forgotten! your doctor's degree! . . . a copy! . . . a photostat for the Ministry! for your license to practice! . . . I'll run off the photostat! myself! right away! . . . we need it for tomorrow!

"Perfect, Harras! . . . perfect!"

He's wearing a big thick bathrobe, green and red . . . I jump . . . he's spoken in an undertone . . . I see Le Vig has disappeared . . . guess he's gone to bed . . . Lili's here, asleep . . . I rummage in the bag where I keep our papers . . . quite an archive . . . ah, here it is! . . . my degree! . . . 1924! . . . the back is covered with, police, seals . . . all those different places! "rolling stone!" . . . all I've gathered is trouble . . . I don't make friends easy . . .

"Well go to the laboratory . . ."

"Where?"

"Lower down . . . two floors . . . quiet now!"

He doesn't want to wake Lili . . . I didn't know that laboratory . . . where can he be taking me now? . . . forebodings . . . if I get any more suspicious I'll stop moving altogether . . .

"Very well, Harras . . . let's go. . ."

"Lili, I'll be back, I'm going two floors down with Monsieur Harras . . . take pictures . . . I'll be back right away . . ."

"Not very trusting!" Harras remarks . . .

"No, my dear colleague, no trust at all . . ."

Ho-ho!
. . . I've made him laugh again . . .

"You can talk down below! no mike down there! . . . not a single mike! . . . good old Céline!"

Good old Harras! I can't aggravate him . . . I can only be funny . . . he leads me down a little corridor . . . an elevator . . . two floors down . . . a big room full of machines . . . X-ray type . . .

"Harras, you remind me of Ali Baba! . . . deep caverns . . . treasures! are there any more? I want to see everything!"

"Certainly, Céline! certainly! but first your degree . . . allow me . . ."

We're in front of the machine . . .
click!
. . . doesn't take long . . .
click! click! click!
. . . three times! my certificate and the police stamps . . .

"Here you are, Céline, my untrusting friend! You see, I'm giving it back! . . . in no time!"

Thank you . . . thank you . . ."

I fold it up again . . . in four . . . in eight . . . I put it into one of my musette bags . . . I've got four of them slung over my shoulder . . . I never leave them, never, I sleep with them . . . you realize of course that in times of disaster everybody gloms everybody else's papers . . . leave your birth certificate on a table or a chair, you'll never see it again . . . some other zebra someplace has stepped into your shoes, he's you . . . from where I'm writing, my hangout here in Bellevue, I can see . . . the panorama . . . at least a hundred thousand houses, a million windows . . . how many of the people in there are hypocrites with papers that don't belong to them? . . . not the people they're supposed to be? . . . swiped other loves and other birthplaces? . . . and won't be themselves when they die? take four, five more holocausts and a really first-class atomic one, everybody'll have glommed everybody else's papers, nobody'll be himself any more . . . you'll have fifteen . . . twenty-five Destouches, doctors of medicine . . . yellow red . . . Alsatian . . . Berber . . . your serious . . . decisive, profound transmigrations are based on the lifting of papers and if possible . . . the perfect transference! . . . on theft followed by murder plus the dismembering of the "original''! vanished without trace! silence! . . . how many silences on every floor? . . . armies of phony papers! . . . the whole panorama as far as Sacré-Coeur . . . who's going to knock on a thousand doors . . . ?

"Are you really yourself?"

Like going to the Louvre to detect the forgeries . . . good , joke! . . .

Let's be serious . . . I was telling you about the "photo-scope" . . . he'd given me back my degree . . . 

"Céline, I'm sure you've noticed that the Reich administration is extremely meticulous . . . I'm sending an application to the 'Interior'. . . for your license to practice . . . the minister has to pass on it . . . well, everyone . . . pay close attention, Céline . . . every single one of those bureaucrats at the Ministry of the Interior is anti-Nazi! . . . the minister too! and all the clerks! absolutely! same as all actors are anti the play they're putting on! they abominate it! . . . every theater! . . . absolutely! . . . the same rage! . . . a hundred percent anti! you know all that!"

"Well?"

They'll do everything in their power to mislay your file . . . and your license to practice! . . . a month . . . two months . . . a year. . ."

"As long as nobody's listening . . . that's what you said, Harras, didn't you? really . . . nobody?"

"No! . . . no! . . . go right ahead! . . . do you good . . . no microphones here! . . . not installed! . . . not yet! . . . but soon!"

"Well, Harras, since you're giving me leave, I'd be glad to know how your Reich manages to survive . . ."

"Same as all strong states, Céline! . . . war on all sides! . . . plots on all sides! . . . this Reich owes its survival to hatreds! . . . hatreds between marshals! . . . Air Force against tanks! . . . it's not new with Hitler! . . . Navy against the Nazis! . . . the Interior against Foreign Affairs . . . a hundred other camarillas against another hundred . . . Athens, Rome, Napoleon . . . same thing . . . we know all that, Céline!"

"Certainly, Harras! . . . but even so, a time comes when you need a few fanatics . . ."

The fanatics are in Monsieur Goebbels's
Signal!
° . . . very few on the street . . ."

"And in the, Army . . ." 

"The Army, you see, is the arena . . . in the arena you're expected to die . . . am I right?"

"Obviously!"

"Well, listen to me, Céline, I've spent two winters at the front . . . in Poland . . . and then in the Ukraine . . . medical major . . . and then colonel . . . I've seen a lot of soldiers die of wounds, cold, disease . . . tell you they died happy? maybe happy it was overt . . . no more! . . . we need different soldiers, different men! . . . long and the short! . . . you tool . . . your last soldiers died in '17, ours tool . . today the Russians are still back in '14 . . . those somnambulating soldiers . . . that get themselves killed without knowing it . . . but it won't last . . . you'll see them in another war! . . . they'll know! . . . our soldiers rushed into the fray in '14, French versus Boches! . . . now they want to watch . . . the Circus, sure, but from the stands . . . voyeurs the whole lot of them! . . . perverts!"

"Undoubtedly, my dear Harras . . . the Montluc ° crowd for instance in his time . . ."

Tap! Tap! Tap!
. . . the door . . .

The gray-haired supervisor . . . she wants to speak to him . . . he goes out . . . they whisper . . . she seems disgruntled . . . him, not at all. . . is!
ts! ts!
. . . he calms her down . . .

I'll take a look!"

He tells me about it . . .

"The woman is scandalized!. . . the Race, my dear colleague, the
Race! 
. . . she's an old maid! . . ."

I drop Montluc . . . let's look into the scandal! . . . the Race? . . . where? . . . who? . . . what? . . . I've got my little idea . . . the narrow corridor again and two elevators . . . straight to Le Vig's office, his garçonnière . . .

"Monsieur Le Vigan! are you there?"

"I should think I'm here! and not alone!"

A firm reply!

"Splendid!"

Harras knows . . . he's delighted, or so it seems . . .

"May I come in?"

"Please do . . . push hard . . ."

Harras pushes . . . and I see . . . we see . . . our Le Vigan in pink pajamas, flat on his back smiling . . . and our two little Polish chicks on their knees praying, under a crucifix on the wall . . . they've found a crucifix! . . .

"You see, gentlemen, faith is faith! . . . certain barbarians can't rest until they've desecrated the altars! pillaged the holy places! certain men are of another race, Professor Harras! they gather the lambs! . . . they save! look at me, Professor Harras! I save! I am one of those!"

We look at him . . . pink pajamas . . . he's pulled himself up, he's standing on the sofa . . . speaking exalts him . . .

"Professor, in this damp dungeon what do you find? . . . a sanctuary! . . . these little orphan girls are praying! for the end of all defeats, victories, deluges! This dismal repair, cradle of innocence! . . . Jesus!"

A tirade . . .

Sure as shooting, their little Thomas, all bundled up in blankets, was sleeping in an easy chair . . . all this doesn't bother Harras in the least! . . . one thing he notices . . .

"You see, Céline, the rascal! wasn't I just talking about nature? . . . those pink pajamas are mine, I didn't dare to wear them, the supervisor gave them to him! . . . very becoming!"

Le Vigan looks at us . . . he's the one that's surprised . . . that we find all this perfectly natural . . . What now? the rest of the act! the outstretched arms! and the expression, the face of Christ!

Harras concludes:

"He's seduced the supervisor!"

No answer from me . . . he can seduce the whole world and then some if he wants to bother . . . but this supervisor is a very grim individual . . . rabid Nazi . . . Polish? . . . I ask Harras . . .

"All I know is she comes from Brno, Moravia, Gross Deutschland . . . you don't know Bmo? Brno's everything! Nazi! Sudeten! Austrian! Russian! . . . and anti-everything! and Polish! . . . now she's with us . . . she does very well in the laundry . . . runs it very strictly . . . and she likes pink pajamas . . . a fanatic? . . . maybe . . . we'll see! . . . let's get back to Le Vigan. . ."

"Monsieur Le Vigan, you must smoke?"

"I certainly must!"

"An artist like you! chain-smoker myself! to forget my worries! . . . you're an admirable Christ!"

Le Vig jumps down from his divan, drops his pose . . . here he is with a cigarette, legs crossed, social . . . the two Polish prayer girls . . . they're not praying any more . . . they get up too. . . they come and sit down. With Le Vig . . . they want to smoke! . . . Harras gives them a pack . . . two packs . . . of Luckies . . . happy, happy! . . . giggles! . . . their hair has been washed, natural wave, long, very long . . . and they've fixed up their rags very prettily, you wouldn't recognize the grimy slovens! . . . charming! . . . Esmeraldas! must be Le Vigs advice . . . I can see them on the Place du Tertre ° . . . Harras has an idea . . .

"Colleague, a word with you later . . . a slight change . . . you, my friends, don't smoke too much! a little, yes! . . . make yourselves plenty of sandwiches!"

He shakes hands with Le Vigan . . . he kisses the two girls . . . and Thomas, who's waking up in his chair . . . he takes me upstairs . . . next floor . . . another empty office . . . he closes the door carefully . . .

"Céline, we're leaving tomorrow morning . . . well tomorrow midday . . . you understand, I presume?"

"Of course . . ."

"I can't trust that old maid . . . if she debauches poor Le Vigan, they'll hear about it at the Chancellery . . . of course it's not so bad! but why ask for trouble? . . . there's been enough scandal! . . . the girls are all right, but that old lunatic! especially my pink pajamas! that I never wear! all that at the Chancellery, don't you see, with comments! . . . you see me trying to explain! . . . and the crucifix! . . ."