Auto-Da-Fé

by Elias Canetti

  She cashed the cheque at the bank and immediately took half the money to the post-office. To inform herself more thoroughly about prices, she visited several furniture stores. She spent most of the morning obstinately haggling. She saw that her calculations about savings were quite right. She would be able to add still more money to them. Her ninth call was to the shop where she had protested at the prices on the previous day. They recognized her at once. The way she held her head and her manner of speaking in jerks impressed everyone who had seen her, once and for all. After their yesterday's experience they showed her the cheaper things. She examined the beds from top to bottom, tapped the wood and put her ear to the bedsteads to find out if they sounded hollow. Things are worm eaten these days even before you buy them. She opened every commode and stuck her nose in to find out whether it had not already been used. She breathed on the mirrors and then polished them over two or three times with a cloth which she had extracted from the two unwilling 'gentlemen'. All the wardrobes aroused her disapproval.

  'Nothing would go into these. I ask you what sort of boxes do they make to-day! These may do for poor people. They haven't anything to put away. For our sort of things, we need space.'

  They behaved obligingly in spite of her unassuming appearance. They took her for a fool. Fools are embarrassed at leaving without buying something. The brothers' psychology of clients was not exhaustive. It was confined to young couples, whose happiness they successfully kindled with ambiguous advice, to be understood cynically or cosily, according to taste. For the excitement of this elderly person, the pair of them, bon vivants and themselves elderly, had no interest left. After half an hour of offering personal guarantees, their zeal declined. Thérèse had been waiting for just this insult. She opened the enormous handbag which she carried under her arm, felt for the stout packet of notes and said pointedly:

  'I must just sec if I have enough money with me.'

  Before the eyes of the two swarthy, tubby brothers, who had not reckoned on any such contents to her bag, she slowly counted over the notes. 'Merciful heavens, she has got money!' Delighted, they thought as one. As soon as she had done, she tucked the notes tenderly away in her bag, snapped it to, and went. On the threshold she turned round and exclaimed: 'You two gentlemen don't seem to value respectable customers!'

  She directed her steps towards the superior salesman. As it was already one o'clock she hurried so as to get there before they dosed for lunch. She created quite a sensation; among all the men in trousers and the women in short skirts, she was the only one whose legs, concealed under the starched blue skirt which readied to her feet, functioned in secret. It was clear to every passer-by that gliding was as good as walking. It was even better, for she overtook them all. Thérèse felt all eyes upon her. Like thirty, she thought and began to perspire with haste and pleasure. It gave her some difficulty to keep her head still. She put on an adored smile. Uplifted by her ears, broad wings, her eyes flew up to heaven and settled in a cheap bedroom suite. Thérèse, a lace-trimmed angel, made herself comfortable in it. Yet she did not seem to have fallen from the clouds when all of a sudden she fetched up in front of the shop she knew. Her proud smile was transformed into a joyful grin. She stepped inside and glided over towards the superior young man, swinging her hips with such vigour that her wide skirt billowed about her.

  'Here I am again!' she said coyly.

  'At your service, dear lady, what an unexpected honour! What brings you back to us, dear lady, if I may ask?'

  'A bedroom suite. You know how it is.'

  'I thought it must be that, dear lady. A double-bed, naturally, if I am permitted to use the expression.'

  'Excuse me, everything is permitted you.' He shook his head, sadly.

  'Oh no, not to me, dear lady. Am I the happy man? You would never have married me, dear lady. A poor shop assistant.'

  'Why not? You never can tell. Poor people are human too. I don't hold with pride.'

  'That's because you have a heart of gold, dear lady. I hope the gentleman you've made happy knows how fortunate he is.'

  'I ask you, what are men like these days'

  'You surely don't mean, dear lady ... '. The superior young man raised his eyebrows in astonishment. His two eyes were the moist adoring nose of a dog; he nuzzled her gently.

  'They take you for a servant. But they pay you nothing at all. A servant gets wages.'

  'So you are going to choose yourself a handsome bedroom suite instead, dear lady. This way please! Excellent, first class quality, I knew that you'd be coming again, dear lady, and I specially kept this on one side for you. We could have sold it six times over, honour bright! Your husband will be delighted with it. When you get home, dear lady, welcome home, darling, he'll say. Good afternoon, darling, you'll say, dear lady. I've got a bedroom suite for us both, darling — you follow me, dear lady, that is what you will say, and perch yourself on the gentleman's knee. Excuse me, dear lady, I say what is in my mind, no man could resist that, not a single man in the world, not even a husband. If I were married, I won't say if I were married to you, dear lady, a poor shop assistant like me, how could I dream of such a thing, but if I were married, even to an elderly lady, say to a lady of forty — but there, you couldn't even imagine that, dear lady!'

  'Excuse me please, I'm no chicken.'

  'I can't agree with you at all, dear lady, with your permission. I dare say you may be a shade over thirty, dear lady, but that's of no consequence. I always say: the important thing about a woman is her hips. Hips a woman must have, hips that can be seen. What's the point of having them at all if they can't be seen? Now here you can see for yourself, here you have the most magnificent... ' Thérèse was on the point of crying out; enraptured, she could not find words. He hesitated an instant and completed the sentence: 'mattresses!'

  She had not even glanced at the furniture. He talked her into suitable excitement, he approached his hand within an inch of her quivering hips and at the last minute replaced them by the well-designed, the magnificent mattresses. The gesture of resignation with which — poor shop assistant as he was — he bade farewell to her unattainable hips, moved Thérèse, if anything, even more profoundly. What a day! Here she was running with sweat again. Bewitched, she followed the movements of his lips, of his hand. Her eyes, usually aglint with every malicious light, were peaceful, watery, almost blue, as they obediently appraised the furniture. Of course it was magnificent. The superior young man knew everything. What a lot he knew about furniture! She felt almost ashamed in front of him. A bit of luck, she didn't have to say anything. What might he think of her! She knew nothing about furniture. None of the others had noticed. Why, because the others were stupid. The superior young man noticed everything at once. A good thing she didn't have to say anything. He had a voice like melted butter.

  'I implore you, dear lady, don't forget the most important thing of all! As madam's husbands bed is made, so madam's husband does. Give him a good bed, you can do what you like with him. Believe me, dear lady. Married bliss doesn't only flow from the stomach, married bUss flows just as much from furniture, pre-eminently from bedroom furniture, and I should like to say, most pre-eminently from beds; the marriage bed if I may use the phrase. You follow me, dear lady, husbands are human beings. A husband may have the most charming lady wife, a lady wife in the bloom of her years; what use is she to him if he sleeps badly? If he sleeps badly, he'll be bad tempered; if he sleeps jroperly, well, he'll come a bit closer. I can tell you something, dear ady, you can rely on what I say, dear lady, I know something about business, I've been in the trade twelve years, eight in the same shop, what good are hips when a bed is bad? A man will disregard even the loveliest hips. Even madam's husband. You can tempt him with oriental stomach-dancing, you can display your beauty in all its charm, unveil it in front of him, nude as it were — but, I take my oath on it, nothing will help, if the gentleman is in a bad mood, not even if it were you, my dear lady, and that's saying something! Do you know what gentle
men have been known to do, supposing, dear lady, a worn-out old thing—the bed I mean—gentlemen have been know to fly out and find more comfortable beds. And what sort of beds, do you think? Beds made by this firm. I could show you testimonials, dear lady, written by ladies like yourself. You would be astonished if you knew how many happy marriages we carry with pride on our clear conscience. No divorces with us. We know nothing about divorces. We do our part, and our customers are satisfied. This is the one I particularly recommend, dear lady. All are of the best quality, guaranteed, dear lady, but this one I do most particularly recommend to your heart of gold, my dear lady !'

  Thérèse drew nearer, if only to please him. She agreed with every word he said. She was afraid she might lose him. She gazed at the suite which he was recommending to her. But she could not have said what it was like. An anguished search took place in her for some excuse to prolong the pleasure of his butter voice. If she said 'Yes', and paid the money down, she would have to leave and that would be good-bye to the superior young man. She might as well have something for all that beautiful money. These people were making a profit out of her. There was no shame in making him talk a bit longer. Other people walk out of the shop without buying anything. They don't worry themselves. She was a respectable woman and never did such things. She could take her time.

  She found no way out; to say something, she said: 'Excuse me please, that's easy said!'

  'Permit me, dear lady, or if I may say so, my very charming lady, I would never deceive you. When I specially recommend something to you, then I specially recommend it. You can have implicit faith in me, dear lady, everyone trusts me. I owe you no proof of that, dear lady. Will you step this way a minute, sirs'

  The chief, Mr. Gross, a diminutive mannikin with squashed features and hunted little eyes, appeared on the threshold of his separate office, and, small though he was, immediately folded himself into two even smaller halves.

  'What can I do;' he asked and sidled, embarrassed, like a frightened small boy, into the orbit of Therese's wide-spreading skirt.

  'Tell the lady yourself, sir, has any customer ever failed to trust my word?'

  The chief said nothing. He was afraid of telling a lie before mother; she might box his ears. The conflict between his business sense and his reverence for mother betrayed itself in his expression. Thérèse saw the conflict and misinterpreted it. She compared the assistant to the chief. He wanted to chip in but didn't dare. To enhance the victory of the superior young man, she came to his help with a flourish of trumpets.

  'I ask you, what do we want him for? Anyone would believe you from your voice alone. I believe every word. What's the good of lying? Who wants him? I wouldn't believe a word he said.'

  The little man retreated with all speed into his private office. It was always the same. He had not so much as opened his mouth, before mother told him he was lying. With every woman, it was the same story. When he was a child, it was his mother, later it was his wife, an ex-employee. His marriage even had begun in the same way, with his having to soothe his typist whenever she complained of anything by calling her 'mother'. Since his marriage he was allowed no more girl clerks. But mothers kept coming into the shop all the time. That was certainly one of them. So he had had his private office built at the back. He was only to be called out of it when it was essential. He would take it out of Brute for doing this. The man knew perfectly well he couldn't play his part as chief in front of mother. That Brute wanted to be taken into partnership, so to make him look small he was showing him up in front of the customers. But Mr. Gross himself was head ofthe firm of Gross & Mother. His real mother was still alive and a partner in the business. Twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays, she came to go through the books and shout at the assistants. She checked over the figures exactly; that was why it was so very difficult to cheat her of anything. He managed it all the same. If it were not for this cheating he couldn t have gone on living. For this reason he regarded himself, justly, as the real head of the firm; all the more so as her shouting stood him in good stead with his employees. On the days before her visits he could order them about as he liked. They tumbled over each other to obey him, because he might very possibly tell her on the following day if anyone had been impertinent. Tuesdays and Fridays she stayed all day in the shop, anyway. It was mousy quiet then, not a soul dared whisper; not even he; but it was beautiful. Wednesdays and Saturdays were the only days when they were impertinent. To-day was a Wednesday.

  Mr. Gross sat on his high stool and listened to what was going on outside. That Brute talked like a waterfall. The fellow was worth his weight in gold, but a partnership he would not get. What's that, the lady's asking him to go out to lunch with her?

  'The chief wouldn't hear of it, dear lady; it would be my dearest wish, dear lady.'

  'Excuse me please, you can make an exception. I shall pay for you.'

  'You have a heart of gold, dear lady, I am deeply touched, but it is out of the question, quite out of the question. The chief won't have liberties.'

  'Well, he can't be such a brute.'

  'If you knew my name, dear lady, you would laugh. Brute is my name.'

  'I don't see anything funny in that, Brute is as good a name as another. You aren't a brute.'

  'Warmest thanks for the compliment; I kiss your hand, dear lady. If I go much further I shall kiss that sweet hand in earnest.'

  'Excuse me please, if anyone were to hear us, what would they think?'

  'It wouldn't worry me, dear lady. I've nothing to be ashamed of. As I said, when one has such magnificent hips, excuse me — hands was what I meant, of course. Which have you decided on, dear lady? You have settled on this one?'

  'But first I'm taking you out to lunch.'

  'You would make me the happiest man in the world, dear lady, a poor salesman, I must ask you to excuse me. The chief

  'He has nothing to say.'

  'You are mistaken, dear lady. His mother is as good as ten chiefs. He's no worm, either.'

  'What sort of a man is that? That's not a man. My husband's a man compared to him. Well then, are you coming? You go on as if you didn't like the look of me.'

  'What are you saying, dear lady? Show me the man who doesn't like the look of you! You can lay me any odds you like, you'll never find him. He doesn't exist, dear lady. I curse my cruel fate dear lady. The chief would never allow us this glory. What, he'll say, there's a customer going out with a mere assistant, suppose the customer should suddenly run into her husband. Madam's husband, if I may say so, would be beside himself with rage. That would make a sensational scandal. The assistant'll come back to the shop, but the customer, never. Who will foot the bill? I shall! An expensive outing, that's what the chief will say. It's a point cf view, dear lady. Do you know the little song, dear lady, about the poor gigolo, the pretty gigolo? "No matter though your heart should break..." well, let's leave it there ! You'll be satisfied with the beds, dear lady.'

  'But I ask you, you don't really want to. I'll pay for you.'

  'Ah, if you were free this evening, dear lady, but what a question. Madam's husband is inexorable on that point. I must say, I understand him. If I were lucky enough to be married to a beautiful lady — well my dear young lady, I can't begin to tell you what care I should take of her. "No matter though her heart should break, I would not let her leave my side." The second line is my own. I've an idea, dear lady. I'll write a dance tune about you, dear lady, about you lying in the new bed, wearing nothing but pjyamas so to speak, with your magnificent ... excuse me, we'd better leave it there. May I trouble you, dear lady. to step over to the cash desk?'

  'But I wouldn't dream of it! First we'll go and eat.'

  Mr. Gross had listened with mounting indignation. Why had that fellow Brute always to be running him down? Instead of being pleased to be taken out to lunch by mother. All these assistants got above themselves. Every single evening a different girl met him outside the shop, radiant young things, young enough to be his daughters. That moth
er might go away without buying the suite. Mothers didn't like having their invitations rejected. That fellow Brute took too much on himself. That fellow Brute was getting too big for his boots. Today was Wednesday. Why shouldn t Gross be master in his own shop on Wednesdays?

  Listening with all ears, he felt his hackles rise. He felt that mother out there, who was so stubbornly arguing with his assistant, was seconding him for the fight. She spoke of him, Gross, in the same tone of voice as all mothers always did. How was he to speak to Brute? If he said too much, he would be certain to give him a back answer, being Wednesday, and he would lose a good customer. If he said too little, perhaps he wouldn't understand him. It might be best to issue a brief command. Should he look mother in the face as he gave it? No. Better place himself in front of her with his back to her; confronted by them both Brute would be more likely to be respectful.

  He waited a short time until it was clear that a peaceful agreement was out of the question. Softly he jumped offhis office stool and in two tiny strides was at the glass door. With a sudden movement, he flung it open, shot out his head — the largest thing about him — and cried in a shrill falsetto: