North (34 page)

"She won't cause any trouble . . ."

I advise Kracht to leave her with her husband . . . we have enough complications . . .

Sure, why not? . . . it's all right with Kracht . . . but the 
skandal!
nothing is settled! . . . we think it over, we sit down, we listen . . . plenty to listen to . . . more and more squadrons, passing . . .
bzzz! 
. . . more noise than our hysteric . . . which reminds Kracht. . .

"Hjalmar?"

We haven't seen Hjalmar . . . or the pastor . . . haven't heard a thing . . .

"Verschwunden?
Disappeared?"

Oh, it's possible, but where to? . . . I could see that Kracht had plenty to worry about . . . a good hefty
boom
from up high . . . we could look forward . . .

Troubles are as endless as pleasures are brief . . . without trouble you wouldn't exist . . . crummy deal! . . . from your first infant nightmare to your last sweat . . . curtain! . . . I can see that our booted SS
Apotheke
is really downcast . . . he's not looking at anything . . . at me or Frau Kretzer or the Fortresses or the clouds . . . all huddled up with his big Mauser and his enormous swastika armband . . . for two cents he'd ask us to lay out the cards . . . ah, something comes to him! . . . he'd forgotten to tell us . . . he gives himself a shake . . .

The
Revizor!
. . . you haven't seen him?"

Of course not . . . we hadn't seen him either! the Revizor had disappeared too!"

"Verschwunden!"

He'd left Berlin all right . . . he'd been seen around Tribitz, that was all . . . Tribitz is thirty miles to the west . . . what was he doing around there? checking whose accounts? . . . the savings bank's? . . . but then we'd have known . . . he must have taken the wrong train at Spandau . . . the Hamburg line . . . possible! . . . anything was possible! what did we think? . . . with so few trains running it wasn't easy to go wrong . . . and the
Revizor
was no dope! he knew what he was doing . . . kidnaped? he couldn't have had much money on him . . . oh yes! the
Dienstelle
payroll . . . maybe that was it . . . our money! . . . Avenue Junot isn't the only place where they steal and murder! . . . all overt right here . . . in Zornhof, Brandenburg . . . the fashion! . . . the period! . . . Gypsies, housewives, prisoners, the defrocked of all armies, Russians, Walachians,
franzosen
, and plenty more I couldn't think of . . . we'd had the same impression in the Berlin subway . . . hoods and scalawags! . . . Picpus for instance, wasn't he a number! . . . we hadn't seen him again . . . come to think of it, the plain out there in front of us, with nothing moving, must have been full of hiding places . . . maybe they'd tucked the
Revizor
away, buried him someplace . . . Kracht should relax, he should cheer up! . . . he looked at us to see if we were putting him on . . . and we looked at him, his shriveled mug . . . he'd aged ten years since the skandal at the
mahlzeit
. . . his little Adolf moustache all mussed, sticking into his nostrils . . . his nose was yellow and crooked . . . his eyebrows had grown! they looked like gray paintbrushes . . . ten years is no exaggeration . . . they'd hold him responsible for that session under the picture and for la Kretzer's hysteria . . .

"What do you think?"

"You've done the right thing, Kracht, just the right thing!"

He's surprised at my approval . . .

"Absolutely, Kracht, absolutely! . . . the woman's in bed . . . sick! yes! very sick! . . . nothing more, Kracht! . . . she's delirious, she's always been delirious. . . nothing more, Kracht! . . . emotional raptus: absolute quiet! . . ."

"Would you put that into writing, Doctor?"

"Certainly, Kracht! classical case . . . listen up there . . . listen!"

We hear the
boom boom
from Berlin . . . far in the distance . . . and then muffled . . . like echoes . . . Frau Kretzer's
boom booms 
. . . and the walls . . . and windowpanes . . .

"Feel the wall Kracht!"

He feels it . . . it does him good . . . makes it easier for him to believe me . . .

"The whole plain has been doing that for months! high-strung woman . . . those vibrations have thrown her off . . . in addition to grief for her tunics! . . . raptus, Kracht! . . . emotional raptus! . . . you had nothing to do with it . . ."

But what about that smoke in the air? hasn't he noticed? . . . I open the blind a crack, I'm not making it up . . . he should see for himself . . . those-billows up there! . . . yellow and black . . . and all coming down on us! . . . you could tell by the leaves! . . . as if they'd been painted . . . and all the bushes, yellow and black . . . see? . . . if s true, so help me! . . .

"Now, Kracht, listen to me! no visitors! her husband and no one else!"

I was perfectly willing to write a report, but how much ice would it cut? . . . saying I'd observed the patient before, during, and after her attack . . . that in my opinion she had acted in a "state of trance". . . having absorbed larges doses of various toxic substances . . . that her attack had been followed by prostration . . . definite slackening of the pulse . . . 62 . . . 66 . . . speech difficulties . . . attenuated reflexes . . .

I start writing . . . on a prescription form with the heading "City of Bezons". . . I put in the date . . .

"Will this do it, Kracht?"

"Ja! . . . ja! . . . ja!"

I ask him if the
Landrat
has disappeared too . . . no! . . . Kracht has had news of him . . . he's in Berlin! . . . under the bombs? . . . yes! . . . but he's coming to see us very soon . . . and not alone! . . . with Countess von Thorfels . . . this Pomeranian countess, they keep announcing her advent . . . first she's in Moorsburg! . . . then she's not! . . . now she's in Berlin! . . . did she actually exist? . . . yes! Kracht could vouch! . . . he knew more: she was a big talker and loved the French . . . another adorer of the French! she spoke our language better man her daughter Inge and better than Harras, better than Marie-Thérèse the heiress, and better than the old man . . . she'd be really glad to find us here . . . same here, I thought . . . she must know a thing or two about all and sundry . . . maybe we could question her . . . yes, but first things first! what were we going to tell those bureaucrats downstairs? with all Zornhof shooting their mouths off . . . we'd make it very clear to them that Frau Kretzer had been momentarily mad . . . that the things she'd said meant nothing! . . . that she hadn't meant to insult the
Führer!
that both of them . . . she and her husband . . . had always been fervent Nazis! . . . that they had great sorrows, but they'd have given ten sons for the triumph of the Nazi ideas! . . . of the truth! . . . however . . . while we were working things out . . . I suggested . . . no sermons! . . . how about giving them a little party? . . . that would do the trick. . . it made sense . . . they were all hungry, even if they did catch up on their feed in their rooms and cook little chunks of wurst. . . even so, it wasn't a meal . . . a slug of schnapps for a starter! . . . I bad some in the cupboard, I thought. . . I hadn't looked . . . he thought wine might be better. . . we'd drink it with the
mahlzeit 
. . . but where would we get the wine? . . . he knew . . . from the cripple's! . . . he'd go and ask them, he'd explain that morale was low at the
Dienstelle
, that three or four bottles of sparkling something would give it a boost . . . he'd spike the Rhine wine . . . he had the stuff, a small supply of cola nuts . . . that would perk them up, they'd be raring to go . . .

He's all wound up . . . I'll tell them: at least six bottles! . . . possibility of mutiny, the farm's in danger . . ." He asks me what I think of caffeine . . . in addition to the cola . . .

"Yes! yes!
ja! ja! prima! prima!"

I approve . . . I'd approve anything to prevent this village . . . housewives, prisoners, and Gypsies . . . from taking the manor by storm and cutting everything to pieces including us . . . always plenty of reasons, innumerable reasons! . . . the human race is never at a loss, it fucks, procreates, slices and chops, it hasn't stopped in five hundred million years . . . since men have been men . . .
homo sapiens!
. . . right and left, you'll see,
con brio!
they copulate, populate, and
boom!
everything explodes! and starts all over again!

Ah, time for the
mahlzeit!
. . . here we are! . . . they're waiting for us . . . knowing looks . . . Kracht doesn't wait . . . he opens up . . . I break in . . . let me do it! I can speak German well enough to tell them what's what . . . "they thought they saw? . . . they thought they heard? . . . not true! . . ." All they saw or heard was a delirious woman, very sick, sick in bed, and she mustn't see anybody!
"ja! ja! ja!"
they understand, they agree . . . the little hunchback serves the soup, everybody two ladles full, plus a pinch of mashed beets . . . and half a loaf of gray bread . . . they can ask for seconds . . . and they do . . .
ja! ja!
and the surprise! . . . Rhine wine! . . . sparkling! not three bottles, twelve! one apiece! . . . from under the table! . . . "reinforced" Rhine wine!
prosit! prosit!
Kracht on his feet! he raises his glass to the
Führer's
health! everybody likewise, the whole table . . .
prosit! prosit! heil! . . . heil!
. . . morale restored! excellent, confident! . . . la Kretzer is nuts all right! and they ought to shut her up,
sicher! sicher!
certainly! they understood me perfectly! . . .
prosit! prosit!
another glass!
heil! heil!
Kracht has some bottles in reserve . . . generous at the farm! . . . scared the
Dienstelle
, would run wild, that the bookkeepers would fly off the handle and mutiny, and go over and cut their throats! my oh my! and plots in the barns! . . . a bloodbath on their farm! . . . they'd been very free with their wine!

It was taking effect! . . . everybody was changing, bookkeepers, girls, old bags! . . . from pale to scarlet! and
prosit!
to the
Führer'
s health!
heil!
and on their feet! Kracht tries to spring to attention, to raise his arm! he can't make it . . . he's got to hang on . . . he's wobbling . . . but he gets up . . . the little hunchback . . . so gentle, so kindly . . . has an idea . . . we should go up and give la Kretzer a spanking!
smack! smack!

"No! No!"

Kracht's against it . . . what he wants is to hit the wall . . . with his fists . . . and his head . . . in time with the bombs! . . . the
boo-ooms
on Berlin! . . . is he funny! they all do the same! . . . Kracht leaves the wall, sits down again, and takes another drink . . . right out of the bottle! . . . they all follow suit! high spirits! . . . oh! he rips off his little
"Adolf"
moustache! . . . it was pasted . . . not real . . .
teufel!
 
teufel!
 . . . the devil! . . . all he can think ofl devil! devil! and he drinks some more . . . all this Rhine wine . . . they'd been used to water . . . they were all drunk . . . knocking into the walls . . . at the same time as Kracht . . . their morale . . . the battle was won . . . really high! I don't drink, I didn't touch it, so I know . . . Lili hadn't touched their Rheinwein, neither had Le Vig . . . real foreigners . . .how they're kissing . . . they love each other! . . . passionately! . . . men together, women together . . . all staggering, orgying, loving it up . . . SS Kracht wants to go out for air . . . he wants me to take his arm . . . okay! . . . easy does it! . . . we go out to the peristyle . . . we're sitting on a stone bench . . . he stinks of Bheinwein . . . he's trying to say something . . . he says it . . .

"Destouches! Doctor!
ich habe sie gern!
. . . I like you! . . . good man . . . decent! . . . all those people! the whole lot!"

He points to the dining room, the windows . . .

"Dreck! dreck!
scum!"

Does me a lot of good!

He wants to say some more . . . and for me to listen carefully! . . . in strict confidence! . . . okay! . . .

"Braver mann,
Destouches! good man! . . .
vorsicht!
careful! Léonard! . . . Joseph! . . .
alle mörderer! vorsicht!
all murderers!"

A savory pair! . . . I agree . . .

"Kracht! alle!
all of them!
mörder! donnerwetter!
. . . thunderation!"

Comical! but now that he's warned me and kissed me and burst into tears, he's done all he can . . . now to something else . . . he leaves me, he's going tiirough the woods over there . . . he shows me . . . to the farm . . . he's going to rat on us, I bet . . . tell them I've said this . . . I've said that . . . he's not walking very straight, I can see that . . . he's zigzagging . . . but he seems to be all right . . . I don't go with him . . . he can tell them what he likes! . . . who cares? . . . okay, I go back, I climb up . . . the peristyle, the stairs . . . they're waiting for me . . . Lili, Le Vig, and Bébert. . . the rest are dead drunk under the table . . . I think . . . they're snoring . . . Le Vig asks me what Kracht said . . .

"Oh, nothing!"

Then what do I think? . . . that this Zomhof is a rotten hole . . . that Hams is a thorough stinker . . . a blasted fat scoundrel! . . . etc.  . . . etc.  . . . we chew it over . . . we must have chewed for an hour . . .

At the end we'd said everything, the pros and cons, it didn't get us anywhere . . . we were there, and that was that! . . . but our messkits? . . . our routine? . . . we had to get them filled before nightfall . . . not very complicated or very dangerous . . . the
bibels'
cook had developed a taste for cigarettes, the English brands, the sergeant too . . . 

They're expecting us, everything's fine, we come back by way of the grocery store . . . I see there's nobody in the shop, I don't knock, I go in . . . I put down six Luckies on the counter . . . that'll do! . . . and I help myself . . . one . . . two loaves of bread . . . I leave twenty marks . . . twice the price . . . the grocery woman must see us . . . she doesn't show . . . anyway we haven't robbed her, we'll do the same tomorrow, we'll be back . . . three houses farther on . . . the
Wirtschaft
, the bar . . . no use showing our faces, all the anti-Nazis, the ferocious anti-collabos are there . . . they don't say anything when we pass, but they open the door and
ptoo! ptoo!
. . . they spit! long-distance! they'd shoot if they dared . . . they don't dare yet . . . we shouldn't have come this way . . . but there's no other! . . . a path maybe? . . . well look . . . but here we are with our messkits, one for Iago, one for Bébert . . . in the manor we go down to see the dog, see if he likes his messkit, so Le Vig can get to his pad at the end . . . Iago's willing, we give him his good chow, it doesn't take him long, three slurps . . .
woof! . . . woof!
. . . I guess we're pals . . . Le Vig takes advantage, hightails it to his pad! "okay, now you can sleep!". . . and so he does, he lies down . . . half a second he's snoring . . . I go upstairs, Lili's waiting for me . . . something new . . . little Cillie has been there . . . we've been invited to the farm for lunch tomorrow . . . Lili doesn't quite get it . . . she and Cillie had gone up to see Marie-Thérèse, to interpret . . . Marie-Thérèse would be at the luncheon too . . . she wasn't invited very often! there'd be the family and some friends, plus old man von Leiden . . . Why all these people? . . . to tell us . . . Lili, Le Vig, and me . . . that they need our tower, our cubbyhole for other refugees? . . . to throw us out? and then what? send us back to Grünwald . . . or Felixruhe? . . . you get used to it . . . but it takes a while . . . to the idea that you're in the way wherever you go, that you give off an insufferable smell and really ought to be liquidated . . . even now I see, I observe, nothing imaginary about it, the same retching look in people who come anywhere near me or even hear me mentioned . . . thinking how I've survived this, resisted that . . . on the other hand, right, left, or center, I say they're all a lot of absolutely superfluous stinkers! we've all got our opinions! . . . of course you'll say: why did you get mixed up with them? right you are! let them! let 'em all sink! . . . mirages . . . one more! . . . plunge! . . . off the precipice! . . . into myriatons of quicklime! . . . amen!

There in Zornhof we hadn't got to that point . . . a certain courage and cowardice gave us the idea that in spite of everything . . . if we could only hold out another three . . . four months . . .

Three four months . . . my ass! more like a century! the crime, humanly speaking, the unpardonable mistake is thinking of others! . . . Prudence and Egoism are a congenial pair, hideous, shitty, but so compact, so adorably solid!

I didn't speak of my high-powered reflections to Lili . . . especially the Fortresses and Hurricanes over Berlin were no secret to anybody . . . ground, walls, floor! . . . worse and worse! . . . especially at night. . . they'd needed trumpets of Jericho . . . our Hjalmar with his drum and bugle had done the trick! . . . no walls left in Berlin, that was sure . . . but what about Pastor Rieder? and the sergeant from the airfield? . . . with his robin . . . in very difficult moments when you can't get to sleep the best thing is to think sweet thoughts about really lovable creatures . . .

That robin . . . the rats didn't get it! . . . the sergeant brought it back! . . . good for him! . . . bravo! . . . bravo! you're practically asleep . . . bravo! . . . bravo! . . .