Shadows in Paradise

by Erich Maria Remarque

  "No, Natasha."

  "I hate the winter in New York."

  "I hate it everywhere, except in Switzerland."

  "Were you in the mountains?"

  "No, in jail for having no papers. But it was a well-heated jail. I enjoyed every minute of it I could see the snow without having to run around in it It was the only heated jail I've ever been in."

  She burst out laughing. "I never know whether you're kidding or not."

  "That's the only way to talk about an injustice. The whole idea is obsolete. There is no such thing as injustice. There's only bad luck."

  "Do you believe that?"

  "No, Natasha. Not when I'm sitting beside you."

  "I suppose you had lots of women in California?"

  "Not a one."

  "Of course not Poor Robert."

  I hated her to call me that. This conversation was taking a bad turn. I should have tried to get her into bed as quickly -as possible. I should have met her at the hotel and carried her off to Lisa Teruel's room. This skirmishing was dangerous. Every one of our seemingly amiable words had a time bomb hidden in it I knew she was expecting me to ask her the same question.

  "The climate in Hollywood isn't right for it It made me tired and listless."

  "Is that why I practically never heard from you?"

  "No. I cant write letters. With the kind of life I led, there was never anyone to write to. Our addresses were always changing. I lived from day to day and moment to moment. I never had a future and couldn't even imagine one. I thought you were the same."

  "How do you know I'm not?"

  I didn't want to answer that one. After a while I said: "You meet again, and it's the same as before."

  "That's what we want, isn't it?"

  I saw the trap and tried to extricate myself, "No," I said. "It's not what I want."

  "That's not what you said a minute ago."

  "It's different now. I didn't realize it before. I do now."

  "What's different?"

  This was a grilling. I couldn't keep my thoughts in order. They kept wandering. I ought to have gone to bed with another woman first. Then my head would be clearer. I had forgotten, or never been really aware of, the intensity of my feeling for Natasha. At the beginning of our affair it had not been so strong, and, strangely enough, it was this beginning that had remained foremost in my memory in Hollywood. Now it all came back to me. I was almost afraid to look at her for fear of revealing something—I didn't know exactly what, but I felt that I should be defeated forever if she found out. She hadn't played all her cards, not by any means. She was only waiting to crush me with the information that she was having an affair with someone else, or at least had gone to bed with somebody. I tried to stop her. I felt that I hadn't the strength to take it, though I fortified myself with the thought that if she said it, it probably wasn't true.

  "Everything is different, Natasha. I can't explain it. It's hard to explain something so important and unexpected. I'm glad we're together. The time in between has vanished like smoke."

  "You think so?"

  "I think so."

  She laughed. "That's very convenient. I've got to go home now. I'm tired. We're getting our spring collection ready."

  "I know. You're always a season in advance."

  Spring! I thought. What will have happened by then? I looked at the patron. Would he go back to Paris and be prosecuted as a deserter? And where would I be? I saw threats on all sides. I felt as if I were suffocating. What I had been waiting for so long was now within reach, and suddenly the intervening period seemed like a brief reprieve from the gallows. I looked across at Natasha, who was calmly putting on her gloves. She was infinitely far away. I wanted to say something that would cut through all our misunderstandings; I could think of nothing. I walked along beside her with hardly a word. It was very cold; a snow-charged wind swept around the corners. I found a cab. We hardly spoke. The driver predicted snow for next morning.

  "Good night, Robert," said Natasha.

  "Good night, Natasha."

  I was glad to know that Melikov would be awake when I got back. Not for the vodka; just to be with someone who would ask no questions.

  XXIX

  I stood for a while looking into Lowys' window. The eighteenth-century table was still there. The repaired legs filled me with tenderness. It was surrounded by some freshly painted armchairs. There were à few small Egyptian bronzes, among them a rather good cat and a figure of the goddess Neith, finely formed, authentic, and with a good patina.

  I saw Lowy Senior coming up from the cellar like Lazarus rising from his rocky grave. He seemed to have aged; but strangely enough, all my New York friends had made that impression on me, except for Natasha. She had changed but had not grown older. She seemed more independent and more desirable than before. I didn't want to think of her; the thought of her grieved me as if in a moment of blindness I had mistaken a magnificent Chou bronze for a copy and given it away.

  Lowy gave a start when he saw me outside the window. He didn't recognize me at first, probably because of my tan and the splendor of my new coat.

  Then he waved, I waved back, and he hobbled to the door. "Come in, Ross, come in. Why are you standing out there in the cold?" The place smelled of age, dust, and varnish. "You've come up in the world," said Lowy. "Doing good business? Been in Florida? Congratulations!"

  I told him what I had been up to, but said nothing about my work for Holt. I had no reason to make a secret of it, but that morning I was in no mood for any more explanations than absolutely necessary. I had done enough damage with my explanations to Natasha.

  "How is everything?" I asked.

  Lowy threw up his hands in despair. "It's happened," he said gloomily.

  "What's happened?"

  "He's married her. The shicksah!"

  "What of it?" I said to console him. "It's so easy to get a divorce nowadays."

  "That's what I thought. But this shicksah is a Catholic."

  "Has your brother turned Catholic?"

  "Not yet, but I wouldn't put it past him. She's working on him day and night."

  "How do you know?"

  "That's easy. He's always talking about religion. She keeps dinning it into him that he'll roast in hell if he doesn't turn Catholic. "

  "Were they married in church?"

  "Naturally. She insisted. You should have seen it. My brother in a cutaway. Rented, of course. What would he do with a cutaway? His legs are too short It was horrible."

  "So now there's mourning in the house of Israel!"

  Lowy gave me a sharp look. "Damn it, I'd forgotten! You're a goy yourself. You wouldn't see it the same way. Protestant?"

  "Atheist. Born a Catholic."

  "What? How is that possible?"

  "I left the church when they signed the concordat with Hitler. My immortal soul couldn't take it."

  Lowy was interested for a moment. "You did right," he said calmly. "Love thy neighbor as thyself! Isn't that what they're always saying? And then they make a deal with those murderers. Is the concordat still in force?"

  "Yes, as far as I know."

  "Then my brother's in partnership with Hitler," Lowy fumed.

  "Take it easy, Mr. Lowy. Your brother has nothing to do with it. He's an innocent victim of love."

  "Innocent? Look over there." Lowy made a sweeping theatrical gesture. "Take a look at that, Mr. Ross! Can you believe it?"

  "What?"

  "What? Saints! Bishops! Madonnas! Are you blind? Graven images. We never had any of that stuff around here. Now the place is full of it."

  I looked around. There were a few good pieces of religious sculpture in the corners. "Why do you put them where nobody can see them?" I asked. "They're good. Two of them even have the original paint and gilt. They're the best things in the shop right now, Mr. Lowy. What is there to complain about? Art is art!"

  "Not in this situation!"

  "Mr. Lowy, without religious art, most Jewish art dealers wo
uld go out of business tomorrow. You've got to be tolerant"

  "I can't. Even if it brings in money, it breaks my heart. My no-good brother buys the stuff. Good pieces, I admit. But that makes it even worse. I'd be happier if the paint were new, if the gilt were made out of powdered bronze, if only one foot were genuine and the rest had worm holes made with a shotgun. I'd have a right to scream and yell. This way I've got to hold my tongue when I'm burning up inside. I can hardly eat. Even chopped chicken liver, that used to be my favorite delicacy, gives me a sour stomach. I'm wasting away. The worst part of it is that the shicksah has a head for business. Whenever we get into an argument she calls me an antichrist. I guess that's the oppoite of anti-Semite. And the way she laughs. All day she laughs. It gives her the shimmies, all hundred and fifty pounds of her. I can't stand it!" Lowy raised both arms. "Mr. Ross, come back to us. With you here it would be bearable. I'll give you a raise."

  "That's the first friendly offer since I've been back."

  "So you'll come?"

  "I can't Mr. Lowy. I'm still with Silvers. Many thanks."

  His face fell. "Not even if we specialize in bronzes? There are bronze saints, too, you know."

  "Not very many. It can't be done. Silvers has put me on à commission basis, and I'm making good money."

  "Naturally. The bastard has no overhead. Every time he takes a leak it's tax deductible."

  "Good-by, Mr. Lowy. I'll never forget that you gave me my first job."

  "What is this? You sound as if you were saying good-by. You wouldn't be going back to Europe?"

  "What gives you that idea?"

  "The funny way you talk. Don't do it, Mr. Ross. Even if they lose the war, those people will never change. Take it from Raoul Lowy!"

  "Raoul?"

  "Yes. My poor mother read novels. Raoul! Makes you laugh, doesn't it?"

  "No. It gives me pleasure. I don't know why."

  "Raoul," Lowy muttered darkly. "Maybe that's why I never married. A name like that does things to a man's self-confidence."

  "It's never too late for a man like you. You won't have any trouble finding a good Jewess here in New York."

  Raoul's eyes lit up. "Not a bad idea! I never thought of it. But now with this renegade of a brother!" He thought it over for a moment. "I wonder what the kid would say."

  Suddenly he laughed. "First time I've laughed in weeks," he said. "It's a good idea. Wonderful. Even if I don't do it It's like handing a defenseless man a club." He seized my hand in both of his and shook it. "Tell me, Mr. Ross, is there anything I can do for you? How about a saint at purchase price? A St Sebastian from the Rhineland?"

  "No, thanks. What does the cat cost?"

  "The cat? That's one of the finest and rarest . . ."

  "Mr. Lowy," I interrupted, "you taught me the trade. The spiel is unnecessary. How much does it cost?"

  "For you personally or to sell?"

  I hesitated a moment Then a superstitious thought came to me: if I told him the truth, an unknown God would reward me and Natasha would call up. "To sell," I said.

  "That's the stuff. You're an honest man. If you'd said different, I wouldn't have believed you. All right: five hundred. Exactly what I paid for it word of honor."

  "Three fifty. My customer won't go any higher."

  We settled for four twenty-five. "As long as I'm losing my shirt," I said, "I may as well lose my pants, too. How much is the Egyptian figurine? Ill give you sixty. It's for a present."

  "A hundred and twenty if it's a present."

  He let me have it for ninety. I gave him Natasha's address, and he promised to deliver the goddess himself during lunch hour. I took the cat with me. I knew I'd be able to sell it for six hundred and fifty dollars. That gave me the statue for Natasha for nothing and enough profit to pay for a new hat, a pair of good winter shoes, and a muffler. Thus equipped, rd be able to take her anywhere.

  She called me that evening. "You've sent me a little goddess," she said. "What's her name?"

  "She's Egyptian, her name is Neith, and she's two thousand years old."

  "That's pretty old for a woman. Does she bring good luck?"

  "It's a funny thing about Egyptian figurines. They only bring you luck if they take a shine to you. This one ought to bring you luck because she looks like you."

  "I'll take her with me wherever I go. In my handbag. She's lovely. Many thanks, Robert How are you getting along in New York?"

  "I've been buying winter clothes. I hear you have blizzards here."

  "We do. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow? m pick you up."

  A lot of thoughts can pass through a man's mind in a second. I was disappointed at her putting me off till next day. I felt a wave of jealousy mounting from my heart into my throat I thought of telling her that I too was busy that evening, but had sense enough not to. That's fine," I said. "I'll be at the hotel from seven on. Come when you feel like it."

  "I'm sorry I can't make it tonight. I didn't know you were coming, so I made a date. It's hard to be alone in the evening."

  "That's a fact," I said. "I've got a dinner invitation myself. From the people with the wonderful goulash. I wouldn't have had to go; they always invite so many people I wouldn't have been missed."

  "That's good, Robert. I'll see you tomorrow. At about eight."

  I hung up. I wondered if my superstition had helped me, and decided it had, though I was disappointed not to be seeing Natasha right away. The night lay ahead of me like a black pit. I had been away from Natasha for months and hardly given the matter a thought; now this one night seemed endless.

  Mrs. Vriesländer actually had invited me to dinner, and I decided to go. For the first time I would be appearing there as a free man, without debts and in all the glory of my new suit and overcoat I had repaid Vriesländer's loan and even paid the lawyer with the cuckoo clock in full. I could eat the Vriesländer's goulash without shame. And in token of my gratitude I brought Mrs. Vriesländer an impressive bunch of dark-red gladioli. They were somewhat past their bloom, and the Italian on the corner had sold them to me cheap.

  "Tell us about Hollywood," said my hostess almost at once.

  That was just what I had wanted to avoid. "It's like having your head in a transparent bag," I said. "You see everything, understand nothing, and believe nothing. You hear muffled sounds and live in a kind of gelatinous dream. One day you' wake up and you're four months older."

  "Is that all?"

  "Just about."

  Lissy appeared. I thought of Tannenbaum and his doubts. "How's Betty?" I asked.

  "She's not in great pain. Ravic gives her injections. She sleeps a good deal. But she still wakes up at night And then she starts fighting for the next day."

  "Is somebody with her?"

  "Ravic. He sent me away; he said I had to get out once in a while." She smoothed her dress. "I'm going nuts. How can I eat goulash when Betty's dying?"

  She turned to me with her pretty, rather empty face, in which Tannenbaum thought he detected a volcano of passion. "It's no use thinking about death," I said. "We just can't understand. Try and eat."

  "I can't. Sometimes I feel like hanging myself. Or going into a convent And then sometimes I want to let myself go and smash everything. You see how crazy I am?"

  "It's perfectly normal, Lissy. Healthy and normal. Have you a boy friend?"

  "What for? To get pregnant and lose my last chance of getting anywhere?"

  Tannenbaum must have got the right twin, I thought. But maybe Vesel had only been telling him stories and hadn't had any dealings with either of them. "Will the war be over soon?" Lissy asked.

  "It looks like it."

  "And then what?"

  "I have no idea, Lissy."

  Vriesländer came in. "Ah, our young capitalist!" And turning to Lissy: "Have you tasted the almond cake? No? Have somel Have some! You're getting too thin." He pinched her behind. She seemed used to it and did not react in any way. It wasn't a lascivious pinch, more like a fatherly employer
checking up to see that everything was there. Vries-ländei5» tone to me was equally paternal. "My dear Ross," he said, "if you've made a little money, now's your big chance to invest it. Once the war is over, German stocks will be practically worthless and so will the mark. That's your big chance to get in on the ground floor. Nobody can keep the German people down. They'll build up the country in no time. Do you know who's going to help them? We Americans. And I'll tell you why. We need their help against Russia. Our alliance with Russian is like two homosexuals trying to have a baby; it's an alliance against nature. I've got friends in the government, and they know. Once the Nazis are out of the way, we'll support Germany." He tapped me on the shoulder. "Don't tell anybody. That tip is worth millions. I'm giving it to you because you're one of the few people who've paid their debts to me."