Authors: Albert Cohen
At length, after waiting in hopes which remained unfulfilled, for he was not recognized or even noticed by any dignitary, he abandoned his crow's nest and went roaming further afield, with eyes peeled, but found nothing to harpoon. The big fish, the ministers and ambassadors whom he had never met, were too big for him. The rest, a shoal of which were backed up in a corner, were small fry beneath his consideration, interpreters, secretaries and facetious journalists who slapped each other wise-crackingly on the back, only too delighted to be misinformed three hours before the general public was. Alone and ignored, the correspondent employed by a Jewish wire agency smiled at the young civil servant with the complicity of the solitary and held out his hand. Without pausing, Adrien kept him at bay with a hurried hello and quickened his step.
He had his back against another wall when who should he see emerging from the Council Chamber but the Secretary-General, who was putting on a cordially jocular display for the Japanese ambassador, a tiny, wizened old party in gold-rimmed glasses, holding him by the upper biceps to demonstrate the sincerity of his feelings. Suddenly Adrien broke into a cold sweat, convinced that Sir John Cheyne had caught his eye and had frowned. Appalled by the idea that he had been observed paddling idly in this tide of pomp where he had no business to be, he about-turned and made for the exit at a pace which he hoped would seem determined and conscientious, modest but above reproach, the step of a man going about his business. Once he was safely in the corridor outside, he made off at a trot towards the reassuring haven of his office.
CHAPTER 12
Behold the Valiant, the five cousins and sworn friends, newly come unto Geneva, mark them well, these men of silver tongue, these Jews of sunnier climes and even finer words, proud to have remained French citizens within their ghetto on the Greek island of Cephalonia, and loyal to the old and noble country and the old tongue.
First, mark Saltiel of the Solals, uncle to Solal of the handsome visage, an old man of consummate kindliness, without guile, solemn, now seventy-five years of age, so engaging to see with his clean-cut, clean-shaven, pleasantly lined face, with his crest of white hair, the beaver hat tilted over one ear, the nut-brown frock-coat with the inevitable buttonhole, the breeches fastened by a buckle at the knee, the dove-coloured stockings, shoes held by more buckles of antic silver, his earring, the stiff schoolboy collar, the cashmere shawl which keeps his chilly shoulders warm, the flowered waistcoat, and his way of inserting two fingers between the buttons thereof, for he is smitten with Napoleon no less than with the Old Testament and — but tell no man — with the New.
And mark Pinhas of the Solals, whom men call Eater-of-Nails but also Commander-of-the-Winds, bogus barrister and unqualified doctor of medicine, tall and consumptive, with forked beard and tortured face, wearing as always a top-hat and a double-breasted frock-coat over the hairy chest beneath, but today sporting shoes with crampons which he has pronounced indispensable for getting about in Switzerland. So much for him.
Next mark Mattathias of the Solals, known as Gum-Chew but also as Widowman-by-Choice (wives being an expensive item), a tall, gaunt figure, unemotional and circumspect of manner, sallow of face, with blue eyes and pointed ears or rather twitching appendages permanently attuned to the rumour of profit. He has only one arm, for the right ends in a large brass hook with which he scratches the top of his shaven head when estimating how much each potential borrower is good for.
Now mark this perspiring, impressive man of fifty years, by name Michael of the Solals, gold-brocaded usher to the Chief Rabbi of Cephalonia, a gentle giant and devout chaser of skirt. On his island, when he walks through the huddled streets of the Jewish quarter, one hand on hip and the other clenching a bubble-pipe, it is his delight to sing in his deep bass voice and draw the submissive glances of the girls, who admire his immense stature and his large, dyed moustache.
And last, mark the youngest of the Valiant, Solomon of the Solals, seller of apricot-juice in Cephalonia, a sweet, chubby little thing a metre and a half tall, so engaging to behold, with his round, beardless face dotted with freckles, his turned-up nose and the quiff which stands permanently erect over his forehead. A cherub, always admiring, always respectful, dazzled by trifles and readily entranced. Solomon, pure in heart, my best and closest little friend, at times when life disgusts me.
'Well now, gentlemen,' began Uncle Saltiel, standing hand on hip and legs bowed. 'With the help of the tutelary goddess, I have obtained an electrical coupling of the apparatus which transmits the human voice, with the corresponding apparatus inside the League of Nations, and I have informed a refined voice of the opposite sex that I wished to have speech with my nephew. And then there burst forth, like a flower suddenly blooming, another female voice, yet more refined and melodious, luscious as Turkish delight, which proclaimed itself keeper of my nephew's privy secrets. To it I communicated the intelligence that we have this moment, this thirty-first of May, incontinently arrived in Geneva in accordance with the directions of my dear Sol, mforming the same that our personal toilettes being completed by means of total immersion in the baths of the aptly named Hotel Modeste, we were at the entire disposal of His Excellency, even adding, to bring a smile to those charming lips, that Solomon had anointed his quiff and forelock with vaseline in the foolish hope of making it He down. Whereupon, on learning that I was an uncle on the mother's side, the voice like spun gold informed me that my nephew had delayed his return to Geneva, having been obliged to travel as a matter of urgency to divers capitals on secret business.'
'Did she actually say secret?' asked Naileater, somewhat put out.
'No, but the meaning was clear from her tone. He is to return tomorrow, and yesterday he was thoughtful enough to leave a verbal message for me, by the long-distance telephone!'
'All right, all right, we all know you're his pet!' said Naileater. 'Just give us the verbal message and let's have done with these interminable blatherings!'
'The nub of the communication transmitted by the refined lady, who must earn a handsome emolument if we may judge by her voice, is that I am invited to present myself, unaccompanied, tomorrow, the first day of June, at nine o'clock ante meridiem, at the first-class Ritz Hotel.'
'What do you mean unaccompanied?' said Naileater angrily.
'Unaccompanied, she said, and can I help it if he wishes to speak to me in private?' said Saltiel, who opened his snuffbox and took a delicate pinch. 'No doubt your turn will come within the next few days,' he added, not without a hint of malice.
'I see. So I had a bath for nothing,' said Naileater. 'Saltiel, you're going to have to make it up to me, because you needn't think that I braved the waters for my own good pleasure! If that's clear to you, I'm going out. I get edgy if I'm shut up inside too long.'
'Where are you going?' asked Solomon.
'I shall put on my white gloves and leave my card with the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Geneva, a simple courtesy which I must discharge as a former Vice-Chancellor of the Jewish and Philosophical University of Cephalonia which I founded with such success, as I believe you know.'
'What university?' asked Mattathias while Uncle Saltiel shrugged his shoulders. 'Its premises were your back kitchen, and you were the only professor.'
'My dear fellow, quality is much more important than quantity,' retorted Naileater. 'But enough. Let's have no more envy. What I've done is to make a visiting-card by cunningly writing my name so that it looks as if it has been professionally printed. I listed my previous functions, then wrote simply: "from one colleague to another, distinguished greetings", then added the address of our hotel should he in turn feel inclined to drop by and leave his card and invite me to share a polite conversation between Vice-Chancellors over a helping of the Swiss dish known as "fondue", which is made with cheese, garlic, white wine, nutmeg and a slurp of kirsch which must be added at the last moment. It will all depend on whether he's a man of breeding. Farewell, gentlemen.'
CHAPTER 13
The porter at the Ritz Hotel peered suspiciously at the dove-coloured silk stockings worn by the tiny old man who stood before him with a gold earring in one ear, a beaver hat in his hand and his mackintosh over one arm, while the three young bellboys sitting on a bench swung their legs and whispered veiled remarks to each other through barely moving lips.
'You have an appointment?'
'Appointment, my foot and my elbow!' came the cool reply from this bizarre personage, who proceeded to put his hat back on his head. 'Know this, O janissary, learn, O brown-uniformed, excessively gold-braided one, and be told that I am his uncle, that's the long and short of it; that it is none of your business whether I have an appointment or not, though as a matter of fact I have, made yesterday via the telephonic apparatus by the lady with the cultured voice for this very day, the first of the month of June, at nine o'clock ante meridiem, but I thought it would be better to come at eight, for that way we shall be able to drink our morning coffee together.'
'So you have an appointment for nine?'
In a transport of delight, with the nearness of his nephew making him overbearingly full of himself, Saltiel did not even hear the question.
'I am his uncle,' he went on, 'and should you require me to show you my totally genuine and absolutely unforged passport, you will see that my name is Solal, like his! His uncle, rightful brother to his own mother, who was also a Solal, but of the junior branch, which
in reality is the senior line! But let's not go into that. And when I say his uncle, I really should say his father, for he has always preferred me to his natural sire! That's life, my friend, for the biddings of the heart are not ours to command! One person is born to be loved, another to be loved less well! This man becomes a chieftain in the League of Nations by the power of his brain, and this other a hotel porter eternally at the mercy of guests who arrive, and condemned to touch his cap to those who depart! May God comfort him in his lowly station! But here's the nub: I have come to see him before the appointed hour of nine because it is my pleasure to wish to drink the first cup of coffee of the day in his company, for I held him on my lap when he joined the Covenant, when he was but one week old, and because it is also my pleasure to converse with him on divers lofty subjects while luxuriating in his splendiferous surroundings, which I do, though not without resentment, for he is most assuredly being overcharged in this hotel where I note that the electric lights are still burning at eight o'clock in the morning, thus driving up the overheads. And who pays for it all? He does! The hand that reaches into his wallet steals from me! So if it's not too much of a strain, would you mind turning off all these lamps, for outside the sun shines as bright as in the land of the Pharaohs?'
'Who shall I say is calling?' asked the porter, who decided against ejecting this madman straight off since it could be true that he was a relation after all. With these foreign types you could never tell.
'Since you have to do something to earn your salary and justify the two golden keys on your collar, say that it is Saltiel of the Solals, his only uncle, who has stepped on to terra fxrma in one piece from a flying-machine chartered in London, whither I had ventured to study the manners and customs of the British in the wake of numerous other expeditions, some undertaken by means of locomotives, others on the wings of clouds, others still by maritime routes, with the constant purpose of increasing my knowledge and exploring the human heart. But now I am arrived in this place, summoned by my nephew and son of my soul! I have spoken. And now do your porterly duty!'
Picking up the receiver, the porter announced the arrival, listened to the reply, hung up, smiled pleasantly, and asked the visitor if he would be good enough to go up. At this, Saltiel crossed his arms, like an admiral.
'Find favour in the eyes of the King,' he intoned, 'and the haughty viper will sing with the humble voice of the canary! So it is with me, friend: gracious words for the affable, but beasdy to beasts, a lion to hyenas! But we should show mercy to menials, so let us draw a veil over what has been! Tell me the number of his room.'
'Apartment thirty-seven, sir. Til have a bellboy show you the way.'
At a sign from his superior, one of the bellboys stood up and Saltiel gazed curiously at the red uniform worn by the impeccably groomed adolescent: braided-gold epaulettes, buttons shining on the bum-freezer jacket, gold stripes on the trousers and sleeves. 'Bell-ringing at his age?' he thought. 'What strange customs they have here! And just look at him! Turned out like the Prince of Wales! Yet another charge on the overheads!' Biting his lip to keep a straight face, the bellboy indicated that he would lead the way. But, two metres before they reached the lift, Saltiel stopped, troubled by a sudden thought. All these underlings would now proceed to put it about that their illustrious client had an uncle who lacked polish and was therefore a member of a family of no distinction. Well, he'd show these Europeans that he knew how to behave and that he was perfectly at ease in the most exalted circles.
'No, after you,' he said with a pleasant smile to the diminutive lackey in white gloves, who had halted at the entrance to the lift.
The bellboy obeyed, crimson with suppressed mirth, and Saltiel followed him, his gait a mixture of glide and sway which seemed to him the very pineapple of the diplomatic manner.
'Return to your duties, child,' he said, when the lift stopped at the third floor. 'There is no need for you to come with me. I shall find the apartment, which is numbered, myself. Here are ten Swiss centimes for you. Buy yourself some sweeties or make an oblation thereof to your saintly mother, according to the dictates of your heart.'