Death on Credit

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  From that moment on, my conquest, this Gwendoline, looked at me differently… I wasn’t the same guy… I felt that she had presentiments… she thought me transfigured… She didn’t pet me the same way any more… My destiny must have been pretty sticky… I guess the cards showed the same as the furrows: pure grief!…

  I felt so sleepy I could have dropped on the spot, but it was too chilly. We had to keep tramping around on the dock… There really wasn’t a soul, just a little dog that tagged around after us for a while. He trailed off towards the storehouses. We went into a shelter right by the water, we listened, we saw the tide lapping against the wall… chattering like tongues… And then the sound of oars and the deep breathing of the guys.

  My Greasy Joan dragged me away, I think she wanted me to go home with her… I wouldn’t have minded sleeping on the sacks, there were big piles of them all the way up to the rafters… They cut the wind… She made motions to say she had a real room with a real bed… That didn’t appeal to me… It meant intimacies… even then, in the depths of my weariness, she gave me the willies. I make a sign meaning no… I’ve got this address I want to get to… “Meanwell College”… if it comes to laying Gwendoline, I’d rather go back to school. Not that she was so ugly-looking… she had charm in her way, even a kind of elegance… She had an arse on her and muscular thighs and cute little tits… an ugly-looking face, but it was dark… We could have done our business, we’d certainly have had a good time… But once we’d had our sleep out, then what?… Anyway I was too tired!… And besides, it was impossible!… It stirred up my gall! It cramped my cock to think of it… of all the treachery of things! As soon as you let anybody wrap you up!… The whole stinking rotten business! And of my mother… Ah, the poor woman! And of Gorloge and Mme Méhon and the quotations! And the kitchen faucet! And Lavelongue! And little André! The whole lousy mess! Yes, damn it all, I had as much as I could take!… A big stinking steaming load of shit up to here!… See what I mean? Nothing doing!

  I’d gladly have knocked hell out of this fritter baby, so innocent, so kind, an extra-special thrashing till she couldn’t see straight! If I’d thought I was stronger!… To teach her what was what… But she’d have knocked me for a loop, that was sure! She could take care of herself, she was built like a wrestler, she would have turned me like a pancake if I’d started getting real mean!… That’s all I had on my mind in the little side streets while my cutie was unbuttoning me… She had the grip of a working girl, rough as a grater, and not at all bashful. Everybody was screwing me. Oh well…

  Finally I got my address out. We’d have to find the place sooner or later. She couldn’t read at all, so we went looking for a policeman… Two or three times we went wrong. It was always some funny-looking fountain at a street crossing in the middle of the fog… We had a hell of a time finding one… We looked from dock to dock. We went stumbling over barrels and gangplanks… It was fun in spite of being so exhausted… She held me up and my suitcase too… She really had a good disposition. She was losing her bun… I even pulled her hair. That made her laugh too. The stray dog started following us again… Finally through the cracks in a shelter we saw real light… The watchman was slumped over, he jumped when he saw us. He had on at least three overcoats one on top of the other. He cleared his throat a long time… He came out in the fog, he shook himself like a duck. He was very obliging. He was able to read my address. He showed us, way up there, he pointed his finger, way at the end of the night, where Meanwell College was, on the hilltop after a string of lanterns that climbed up in a zigzag… He went back into his shack. He squeezed in through the door with all his layers.

  Once we knew the way, we weren’t in such a hurry… There was still a climb, a big long slope… Our adventure wasn’t over… We climbed very slowly. She didn’t want me to knock myself out… She was all kindness. She didn’t dare to molest me any more… She only kissed me a little when we stopped to rest. She made signs under the lamp that I was just her style… that she liked me fine… About halfway up the slope we sat down on a rock; from there you could see clouds of fog moving in the distance across the river… they came swooping down, blotting out the little boats on the smooth water… dousing their lights… then there was moonlight, and then clouds took over again… The kid made some more gestures… Wasn’t I hungry? She offered to get me something to eat, her heart really seemed to be in the right place… Dazed as I was, I wondered if I’d have the strength to topple her off the edge with a good swift kick in the arse. Well, how about it?…

  Below us the cliff dropped sheer into the drink.

  All of a sudden we hear voices, men, a whole gang, I recognize them with their lanterns, it was the “Minstrels”, phoney Negroes with blackened faces… They were coming up from the harbour too… pulling their cart in the fog. They’re having a lot of trouble with it. It’s heavy, all that setup of theirs, they’d taken it all apart… Their poles and instruments jiggle and clatter… They see us, they talk to Greasy Joan… They take time out, they settle down a while, they go into conference, they pile up all their coins on the end of the bench… trying to count them, but they can’t make it… They’re too tired… One at a time they go and wash their faces in the waterfall nearby. They come back livid in the morning light… you’d think they were dead already… They raise their heads a moment, they sag, they sit down again in the gravel… They crack some more jokes with my cutie… Finally we all pick ourselves up, we leave together… We push the wheels of their contraption, we tug and pull to get them up the hill somehow. I still had quite a way to go! They didn’t want to leave us… Meanwell College was over past the trees, then another turn, and then a slope and a garden…

  By now things were blue. When we got to the gate, we were all pretty pally. It was hard to find the right number. We scratched matches in two three different places… Finally we had it!… The kid began to bawl. But we had to leave each other some time!… I made gestures, signs… to tell her she shouldn’t stay there, she should go on with the boys… I’d be seeing her again for sure… down below… in the port… one day… I made affectionate gestures… It was true, all in all I really wanted to. I gave her my blanket to make her believe me… I’d go and get it… She had trouble understanding… I didn’t know what to do… She was kissing me like mad… Our pantomime sent the “Minstrels” into stitches… They imitated our kisses…

  In the narrow little street an icy wind was blowing… We were all so worn out… I could hardly stand up… But really our effusions were too funny… In the end we were all rocking with laughter… it was all so dumb… at that time of night!… Finally she made up her mind… She didn’t want to go on alone so she followed the minstrels… They all pushed off together behind the cart, the instruments, the bass drum… A nice little stroll they were having… The kid waved some last goodbyes from far off with her lantern… Finally they disappeared… in the trees, around the bend in the street.

  Then I looked at the sign in front of me where I was supposed to go in!… It was written plainly: “Meanwell College” and above that, in much redder letters: Director J.P. Merrywin. That was the place, I hadn’t gone wrong. I lifted the little knocker: Tap! Tap! At first nothing happened… then I rang at the other door. Still nobody answered… quite a while… Finally I heard somebody moving… I saw a light coming down the stairs… I could see through the curtains… It gave me a rotten feeling… For two cents I’d have cleared out… I’d have run after the kid… I’d have caught up with the other guys… I’d have never come back to the school… I was already turning on my heels… Bing, I bump right into this guy… a little man, all stooped over, in a dressing gown… He pulls himself up. He looks me over… He jabbers explanations… That must be the boss… He was all upset… He had side-whiskers… they were red… with a few white hairs…. A little wig over his eyes. He repeated my name. He’d come out through the garden… taken me by surprise! That was a funny way to act… He must have been a
fraid of thieves… He sheltered his candle… He stood there in front of me, mumbling. It wasn’t a very warm place for an interview. He couldn’t find all the words he needed, the wind blew out his candle:

  “Ferdinand!… Good… morning… I… am… glad… to see you… but… you are… very late… what happened?…”

  “I don’t know…” I said.

  He didn’t press the point… He went ahead. He took tiny little steps… Finally he opened the door… He jiggled with the lock. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t get the key out… Once we were in the entrance he motioned me to wait… to sit on the chest… he was going to fix things upstairs. Right in the middle of the stairs he thought of something, he leant down over the banister and pointed his finger at me:

  “Tomorrow, Ferdinand! Tomorrow… I’ll only talk English to you! Eh what?…” It made him laugh in advance…

  “Attendez-moi un moment! Wait! Moment! There, you see! You’re catching on, Ferdinand… Already!…”

  He was clowning…

  * * *

  It took him for ever up there, poking around in drawers, closing doors, moving cupboards. I said to myself: “What does he think he’s doing?… I’m going to sleep just like this!…” I was still waiting. At the end of the corridor I saw the gas jet flickering… it was turned low…

  Little by little my eyes got used to the light and I saw the clock… a great big one… really magnificent… the dial was all copper and a tiny little frigate was dancing out the seconds… Tick! Tock!… Tick! Tock!… She went sailing right along… In the end I was so tired it made me fuzzy…

  The old codger was still fussing around… fighting with bric-a-brac… running the water… talking with a woman… Finally he came down… He had gone to a lot of trouble!… Completely washed, shaved, dressed fit to kill… and some style!… Like a lawyer… a flowing black cape… hanging from his shoulders… accordion pleats… and on the top of his dome a pretty little skullcap with a big tassel… I figured it was for my benefit. He wants to impress me… He makes a little sign… I get up… I start moving… To tell the truth, I could hardly stand up… He cast about for some more phrases… something appropriate, about my trip… If I’d had trouble finding the place… I didn’t answer… I followed him… First through the drawing room… around a piano… then through the laundry room… the washroom… the kitchen… Finally he opens another door… And what do I see? A bed!… I didn’t waste any time!… I didn’t wait to be told!… I jumped right on it!… I spread myself flat!… Right away the little crab gets all excited, he flies into a rage… He couldn’t stand it. He hollers!… He jumps up and down!… He dances around the sack!… He hadn’t been expecting such a thing!… He grabs me by the shoes… He tries to pull me off…

  “Chaussures! Chaussures! Boots! Boots!…” He was getting madder and madder!… He was in a terrible state! My mud on his lovely bed… on all those big flowers!… That’s what was upsetting him, sending him into an epileptic fit! “Go shit in your hat!” I was thinking. “Go split a gut, you little arsehole!” He was desperate… He ran up and down the hall… looking for reinforcements!… If they’d touched a finger to me, I’d have gone wild!… I’d have got right off that bed and given that little fart some thrashing! On the spot!… I was exactly in the mood!… I was all set!… He was skinny and puny! He was getting on my nerves with his damn nonsense!… I’d have turned him inside out like a glove! I was fed up!… He went right on yapping, but I had no trouble falling asleep.

  * * *

  For fresh air and the view, you couldn’t have asked for anything better than Meanwell College. The location was marvellous… From the garden and even from the windows of the study you could look out over the whole countryside. When the weather cleared, you could see for miles, the river, the three towns, the port, the docks huddled together by the shore… The railway lines… the ships disappearing… and coming back into view a little way out… behind the hills past the meadows… towards the sea, past Chatham… The effect was magnificent… Only it was awfully cold at the time I got there, the place was so unprotected on top of the cliff it was impossible to keep warm. The wind hammered against the house… The squalls and storms came bounding over the hill… The wind roared through the rooms, the doors rattled day and night. We were living in the middle of a tornado. When the tempest began to roar, the kids yelled like deaf people, they couldn’t hear each other… Nothing could stand up against that wind! It was bend or break. The trees were stooped over, they never straightened up, the lawns were in tatters, whole patches were ripped up. You can imagine…

  In a rough, ravaged climate like that you get a ravenous appetite… It turns out husky kids, real bruisers! When there’s enough to eat! But at Meanwell College the grub wasn’t so hot!… It was worse than middling. Their prospectus was a big lie. There were fourteen of us at table, including me! Plus the boss and his wife… In my opinion that was at least eight too many, considering what there was to eat! Six of us could have handled it! On days when the wind was blowing strong… the eats were very meagre!

  I was the biggest and the hungriest of the crew. I was growing like mad. It was almost time for me to stop. In a month I doubled in bulk. The violence of the elements created a revolution in my lungs and in my stature. The way I helped myself, the way I scraped all the platters without being asked, I got to be a regular pest at the table. The kids eyed my plate, they gave me dirty looks, I was the enemy, naturally… I didn’t give a damn, I didn’t say a word to anybody… I was still so hungry I’d even have eaten noodles if anybody’d asked me to… A school that gave you enough to eat would go bankrupt… They’ve got to watch their step! I made up for it on the porridge, there I was ruthless… I took advantage of my strength, and I was even worse with the marmalade… There was a little saucerful for four of us, I gobbled it up all by myself, straight out of the dish… I did away with it before anybody could see what was happening… The others could gripe all they pleased, I never answered… why should I have?… You could have all the tea you wanted, it warms you, it bloats you, it’s perfumed water, not bad, but it makes you even hungrier. When the tempest went on for a long time, when the whole hilltop roared for days on end, I dug into the sugar bowl, with a tablespoon or even my bare hands. It was yellow and sticky, it gave me strength.

  At meals Mr Merrywin had the big platter right in front of him, he himself dished everything out… He tried to make me talk. No soap… Me, talk!… The mere idea made me see red!… I was a tough customer… Only his lovely wife had me kind of bewitched, she might have softened me… I sat next to her… She was really adorable. Absolutely. Her face, her smile, her arms, all her movements, everything. She was busy the whole time, trying to make little Jongkind eat, he was a freak, a “retarded” child. After every mouthful or pretty near she had to help him, clean him up and wipe away his slobber. It was rough work.

  This idiot’s parents were in India, they didn’t even come to see him. A little nutcase like that was a real nuisance, especially at mealtimes, he’d swallow everything on the table, the spoons, the napkin rings, the pepper, the oil and vinegar bottles, even the knives… Swallowing things was his passion… He always had his mouth all dilated, distended, like a boa constrictor, he’d suck up all sorts of little objects, even off the floor, grunting and slobbering the whole time. Mrs Merrywin always stopped him, took the things away, always patient and gentle. Never a harsh word…

  Aside from his swallowing act, the kid wasn’t so bad. He was actually rather good-natured. He wasn’t bad looking either, only his eyes were weird. He bumped into everything without his glasses, he was disgustingly short-sighted, he’d have collided with a mole, he needed thick lenses, like bottle stoppers… They made his eyes pop out, they were wider than the rest of his face. The least little thing frightened him, Mrs Merrywin always comforted him with the same two words: “No trouble, Jongkind! No trouble!…”

  He himself would repe
at those words for days on end, for no rhyme or reason like a parrot. After several months at Chatham that was all I remembered: “No trouble, Jongkind!”

  * * *

  Two weeks, three weeks passed… They left me alone. They didn’t try to force me… they’d have liked me to talk… for me to learn a little English. That was only natural. My father asked in his letters if I was making an effort… if I was applying myself to my studies…

  I didn’t let them rope me in… Talk wasn’t for me… I’d had enough… I only had to bring back my memories… the hullabaloo at home! My mother’s blah-blah!… All the blarney people can serve you up in words! Hell no! Not for me! I had my belly full!… I’d had all the confessions, all the soft soap I could take!… No, thank you! I had whole carloads… If I even thought of trying, the whole mess stuck in my throat… They weren’t going to catch me again… I’d had enough! I had a good excuse for keeping my mouth shut, a golden opportunity, and I was determined to take every advantage of it… to the bitter end… No appeals to sentiment, no fiddle-faddle! They made me want to throw up with all their talk… Maybe even worse than noodles… And believe me it gave me the creeps even to think of home…