House of All Nations

by Christina Stead

  Jules laughed heartily. ‘You’re never in the market, are you?’

  ‘No. But I might take a flier. Just to cover some of my expenses.’

  ‘That’s an old one,’ murmured Jules.

  Alphendéry ruefully said, ‘I know: it’s a sure road to ruin. I won’t then. I’ll pay you back.’

  Jules let out the most exasperated long laugh Michel had ever heard. He got up and walked up and down the room, looking at Michel glumly from time to time. Then he said angrily, ‘Michel, take it for a present. Good God, I don’t want it back. Why don’t you get yourself some suits, Michel? Why don’t you provide for yourself? Who’s going to know? I don’t give a damn. One of these days, there’ll be some sort of a smash, and no one will be better off for your modesty.’

  ‘It’s not in my heart to take money I don’t earn, Jules.’

  Jules was quite acid. ‘You’re a fool, Michel.’

  ‘Jules, you know what is in my heart? When I leave you, when I’ve provided for Estelle and my mother, I want to join my friends—I couldn’t do that if I’d been helping myself, even to your money.’

  Jules sat down and looked at him with interest, ‘I thought you belonged to the communists. I did, honestly. I thought you were working for them.’

  ‘You thought that and you left me to control your funds the way you do?’

  Jules threw back his head. ‘Surely. I know you wouldn’t give them dirty dough. I would, but you wouldn’t. What do I care?’ He looked at Alphendéry with a puzzled, half-derisive expression, ‘Michel, why are you in this game?’

  ‘First,’ said Michel, rather desperately, ‘because I like comfort, I suppose, and because I haven’t got the manhood, as Jean Frère has, to tell my wife and mother and child (if I ever had one) that they must live in poverty, because I couldn’t wear my bones out for them. Second, because I have been in finance ever since I was a boy. My father was a small banker as well as lawyer, my grandfather a small steelmaster. When my father died, I became the secretary of Alphendéry, the Alsatian rentier millionaire who had retired and made a hobby of collecting proofs of Dreyfus’s innocence. He was also a Marxist and while with him I became a fervent Marxist. You see, I have always been a revolutionary at ease, the shadow of a rich man. It would take a violent effort of will to wrench myself out of that setting, and I suppose I will some day. If I go round much longer with Jean Frère I certainly will. He is practically monosyllabic but when he expresses some vague feeling that I should go and see something or do something, about a month later, I find myself doing it. I have met my match.’

  Jules looked at him affectionately. ‘Oh, you are too kind, Michel! That is your only weakness. You have a heart of gold—the only gold you’ll ever have.’

  The same afternoon Jules telephoned to Alphendéry in his office. ‘Come round to my office, Michel: I believe I’ve got something on old Legris.’ But when Alphendéry got to the office, Jules merely said carelessly, ‘You made a lot of money for me this year, Michel.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  Jules pointed to an envelope on the table. ‘You ought to take care of your mother: perhaps that will.’

  Michel opened the envelope and found one hundred thousand francs in Treasury bonds.

  ‘Thanks very much, Jules.’

  ‘You earned it: you ought to hate me for it, on your theory. I get the lion’s share and you made it all yourself!’ He laughed kindly. He followed Michel back to his room, saw no one was there, and when Michel sat down, put some more bonds on the table. ‘What difference does it make? You may as well pay off that wife of yours too. And take some advice, Michel. Forget Estelle: join your friends and get used to drinking the two-cent wine of that friend of yours, Frère. When you come back from seeing him, you look ten years younger … Why don’t you bring him in? I’d like to see the fellow.’ He sauntered out.

  Michel, with a heart strangely mute, looked at the other bonds—in all, one hundred seventy-five thousand francs in bonds. He looked at the money. He would assign it some other time. Meanwhile he felt unspeakably melancholy. Jules had recommended him to give up this mad and detested life and join his real friends. But Michel could not contemplate leaving Jules yet. Why? He went to a workers’ meeting that evening and gave one hundred francs to the collection, immediately after felt extremely gay and lighthearted, and came back to the bank the next day without a thought of leaving and everything went on as before, except that he brought Jean Frère in to see Jules. Jean seemed to be struck dumb, Jules was in a bad temper, and everything went awry. Jules said angrily, after, ‘What the deuce do you see in that fellow? Don’t get sentimental, Michel, or you’ll be throwing over a comfortable life for a lot of fellows you don’t know and you’ll be intensely miserable. I know you, Michel. You couldn’t stand it.’

  Mlle. Louise Bernard, confidential secretary of the Bertillons and Alphendéry, was called to the great directors’ room where Daniel Cambo and Ephraïm Dreyer were installed. Aristide Raccamond, passing at the moment and peering in, saw Dreyer, Alphendéry, and, in a dark-green armchair, a great oxycephalic head but nothing more. All this secrecy annoyed him and gnawed at his tranquillity. William Bertillon passed him, tried the door, found it locked, shrugged, and came back again. Dreyer, though a man of fifty-five, sprang out of his chair and offered Mlle. Bernard a seat. Cambo put on his dancing-partner expression and came and stood at her elbow. After some little parley in Ladino, they agreed, and Dreyer dictated to the young lady in French:

  July 15, 1930

  Ephraïm Dreyer,Nieuwdoelenstraat, Amsterdam.

  Dear Sir,

  We regret to inform you that your short sale of Docks du Havre is now undermargined, due to this stock having risen by forty-five points, as you will have seen. Will you kindly remit the necessary amount to us before tomorrow’s closing?

  Yours truly,

  Bertillon Fréres

  July 30,1930

  (Same address)

  Dear Sir,

  Will you kindly remit to us at once the amount necessary to cover margin requirements on your holding of Banque Franco-Japonaise which is now undermargined, due to the decline this week. We should appreciate your check in the sum of (‘so much, we’ll work that out after,’ put in Alphendéry).

  (Same signature)

  December 31, 1930

  (Same address)

  Dear Sir,

  In remitting your account as of December 31, 1930, we regret to observe that it is in debit 28,869.75c. (twenty thousand, eight hundred and sixty-nine francs, seventy-five centimes). Will you kindly remit the amount mentioned in due course?

  (Same signature)

  ‘Get some old letterheads and type those letters,’ said Alphendéry, smiling sweetly. ‘Bring the typewriter in here. Wait, I’ll tell Brossier to bring it.’

  When the letters were done, she gave them as instructed to William Bertillon. He signed them and Mlle. Bernard handed them to Ephraïm Dreyer, who bowed and thanked her with old-fashioned courtesy.

  ‘I think,’ said Alphendéry, ‘that will establish your loss sufficiently.’ He followed Mlle. Bernard back to her room and said with false confidence, ‘That’s a big service we’ve done Dreyer. They are after him for income tax.’

  Mlle. Bernard looked coolly at him. ‘The tax officials must have heard of antedated letters before this.’

  ‘Yes, but we’re such a respectable institution,’ explained Alphendéry, ‘no one can doubt our word. And then the books agree.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘I mean, they will.’

  Mlle. Bernard looked at him curiously. ‘What do you, the Bank, I mean, get out of this? He hasn’t got an account worth mentioning, with us.’

  ‘We get nothing actually. Oh, this doesn’t count: these little favors we do in the course of business. You don’t get the Legion of Honor for a small thing like that.�
��

  Meanwhile Dreyer sent round one of the grooms to know what size gloves Mlle. Bernard wore, and in due course within a week she found herself possessed of one dozen pairs of very fine gloves. Dreyer was a glove maker. Alphendéry came smiling in the wake of the gloves. ‘Dreyer’s very grateful to you: he sent his kindest wishes and thanks. It’s very fortunate we have someone here,’ he flattered amiably, ‘who can be trusted with these private matters.’

  Alphendéry had a letter from Henri Léon, with whom he had been in correspondence for some months. Léon had laid his list of bonds before him and had promised him ten per cent of any profits he should make on Alphendéry’s advice. Alphendéry had had this offer from other rich men in his time, but there was something personal and intimate in Léon’s manner and in his letters which made him look upon Léon as his second line of battle, if anything should happen to the Bertillon Bank. Léon now wrote:

  June 29, 1931

  My Dear Michel,

  I was very pleased to receive your letter for two reasons: firstly, because I was without news from you and I was relieved to have your letter; secondly, I was particularly pleased to learn that you would come to Amsterdam shortly, with my old friend Aristide Raccamond … By the bye, I am enclosing a letter I had from a man who is trying to sell me an estate in the south of France. He is a friend of Mr. Rhys of Rotterdam, but his letter unsettles me: it is eccentric. You have more experience of men than me: would you look at it and write a suitable answer? Do not show it to Raccamond or to anyone as I do not want commission agents for estates round me … Since writing you, I have been investigating a chemicals factory in Germany: some friends have been trying to interest me in this business … I am a little bit worried about your remarks about the U.S. Federal bonds. I have still got my parcel and am very much tempted to sell it, but frankly, I do not know what to do with the money and, what is much worse, I don’t know what currency to plunge for. I am not at all impressed with sterling, the gold currencies are all risky; my impression is that the Belgian franc is at the moment the safest but I do not like to put all the eggs in one basket. The question is: When the pound? When the dollar? When the Belgian franc? When the Swiss franc? When the French franc? If you can put dates to any of those, you and I are millionaires. I see they say the pound market may be aided by a war-debt moratorium but I do not believe it … I am looking to you for a Talmud interpretation. I must be more conservative than ever standing as I do alone and on my own resources. I do not want to lose the substance for the shadow. If I could only know what to buy. In the meantime, read the New York Herald of Paris and let me know what stocks to watch; that is, if you share my view that selective stocks and shares are worth buying. Business with me has been poor, though I am keeping my head above water … If I was sure Russia would be a seller I would be very much tempted to go short. Could we make her a seller? There is going to be a great chance of some sort in this wheat market. I am watching it very closely and if the position still remains uncertain by the middle of July, I shall probably come down to Paris to see you … If ever you want to come to Holland, let me know. We may be able to get together on some proposition.

  Yours,

  Henri Léon

  Enclosed was a letter headed, ‘Jacques Terrien, Greffontaines, Vallée Heureuse.’ It began:

  June 20, 1931

  Dear Mr. Adallo,

  Your kind interest in the beautiful property above has given me a new hope in life, where, I assure you, everything before looked black and hopeless, due to the crisis, in which I, no doubt, have not suffered more than others ‘but I feel it more!’ I have not heard again from your agent who approved of the property but a few days later, Mme. Adallo visited the place and expressed her great satisfaction with it, suggesting one or two changes which I shall be only too happy to put in hand. I know the people of this section and can put you in touch with the best workmen and also with two excellent share farmers which is what you need to run the place, and I assure you your taking them on will be a godsend to them both, as well as your taking the property an answer to prayer (so to speak) to me. Forgive me speaking in this personal strain … Now sir, I should like to hear something definite from you in order to have peace of mind myself, not that I think you concern yourself with my peace of mind, but only that, oh, sir, you cannot understand what miseries have reduced me to this state of despair. My wife was in hospital and had two operations for which I have not yet paid. She died. My son tried to get work here and not finding any ran away to Paris, but I believe is still unemployed. I have only a young girl, fifteen, who needs medical care, suffering from tuberculosis, and I am unable to look after her or pay a nurse for her. So, my very dear sir, I am not trying to tell you my troubles for any other reason than an honorable one, that is, to pay my bills as quickly as possible and to persuade you to come to a quick decision, for I feel if it dangles about much longer I shall surely go out of my mind; but if there is promise of a quick sale and your letter or Mme. Adallo’s or your agent’s is in my hands, I can get credit here. I know you must have your own worries: I am very conscious that mine mean little to you, my very dear sir, and know that it must be so if the world is to wag and I should not write this way if I were not nearly distracted. Will you please answer quickly and in the affirmative?

  Most sincere greetings,

  J. Terrien

  On the bottom Henri Léon had penciled:

  ‘New letters come from this man every mail, some to me, some to Madame Adallo (these are names assumed by me and a friend of mine in negotiations). There are now three on my desk, come today, which I have not answered. Please do something. I am not going to buy the property. I now have the idea that it would be better to buy a property in Spain, where the people are glowing with republican enthusiasm.

  H.L.

  Alphendéry sat down at once and wrote to Léon.

  June 30, 1931

  Dear Léon,

  The market is up and I am a busy man. Your friend Raccamond having told his clients to sell is giddy with fright and has run off to hide himself at St.-Germain-en-Laye where his wife has a villa or something. I have to face everyone myself. Did you know him for a neurotic? My advice about the chap at Vallée Heureuse is—return his letters unopened if you get any more for Mme. Adallo and send him a brutal letter in answer to this one (it is the only way). Here is the letter: ‘Dear Terrien, I do not want your property; please do not write to me about it again. It does not suit my requirements in any way. Yours, etc.’ If you do not you are going to have a psychosis on your hands. In a few days he will be blaming you for all his troubles. So be curt. If he shoots himself his trouble will be over: if he shoots you, yours will. Choose. But he won’t shoot himself … It’s awful, all the same. The world’s going mad with the depression. Let me live long enough to see the world changed.

  Yours,

  Alphendéry

  P.S. I am all for an estate in Spain and Alphendéry as your factor. About “wet and windy Amsterdam” I have not yet made up my mind. But Raccamond and I will be up there soon. I have an idea of training him to take my place. I might go to London.

  M. A.

  He included a list of stocks in which Léon should invest.

  By the same mail, Raccamond had received a letter from Léon, and it had been forwarded to him at Madame’s old house on the heights of St.-Cloud (St.-Germain-en-Laye was a false scent).

  June 29, 1931

  Dear Aristide,

  I am delighted to hear from you: I felt very uneasy to hear that you were under the weather. When you come to Amsterdam it will afford us an opportunity of meeting and discussing various personal matters, and investments, on which I particularly want your advice. I want you to run me out a list of selective stocks in the American stock market. I have got a curious impression that the stock market in America wants to go up and I think it will some day soon. The question is, will the dollar go of
f now, or in three years from now? In this you will be of valuable service, and you will get recognition from me: ten per cent from any profits you make for me, through your advice. I cannot afford to splash round though. I am poor, and things have not gone so well with me. I must make a big effort to get out of the marasmus in which I find myself, due to the depressed state of the world. The only risk is that the Americans may go wild, for they are not used to disaster: they are now trying to lock people up for saying banks are unsound. This is a pretty thing! We should all be on bread and water at that rate. If they don’t hold their horses and do something pretty soon, we may have revolution in America and it is not time for it yet … There is little business in Spain and little enterprise, but with the new republic people will begin to eye Spain as a new territory. You would be happy in that country, I think, and we could work together. We could coin money. The question to consider is where there is a future for business. I envisage two—cosmetics and drugs. Now they have very few drugs, and all they have come from Germany and Czechoslovakia. As to cosmetics, they have very poor stuff and poor scent, like you see in cheap Arab bazaars, yet the women are wild about beauty preparations and think of nothing else. There is a most important factory, situated in San Sebastian with a capital of about ten million pesetas; you might look round next time you are down on the Silver Coast and see what they are doing. Go to the banks and find out details of this firm, its prospects, its past and its future. I want you to find out if there are likely to be labor troubles and if they think the republic will hold. What a market it has opened up! I guess the future will find me there. Write to me, my boy, as soon as you have reconnoitered … Do not let anyone in the bank know what you are doing. I am looking forward to the time when we can get together again.

  Yours,

  H. L.

  * * *

  Scene Fifty: Honored Sir

  Alphendéry went up to Amsterdam for the week end to see Léon and find out if Léon really wanted to employ him and what he would offer. Léon, pacing up and down his room in a hotel in Nieuwdoelenstraat, was struck by Alphendéry’s prophecy of MacDonald’s apostasy. He sat down and edged his chair close to Alphendéry with a confidential expression. ‘Boy, that’s the clue!’