"Indeed, you amaze me."
"I could amaze you even more but we would need more time - and more wine to make it pleasant enough - for me to show you how obsolete is the devil, that much needed and useful creature."
"Needed? Useful?"
"Yes, sir. Just like certain antibodies in the human organism the devil was necessary to the world. He was the cause of commotion, liveliness and excitement, he could bring life to boiling point, excite the mind and, to his own misfortune, he trained man to fight stupidity, sluggishness and futility. The devil taught Cain to envy, true! Noah to drink, true! But at the same time the devil taught the Greeks to sculpt and Ovid to write poetry about the art of lovemaking. The Borgias were devils skilled in poisoning, but Shakespeare, too, was a devil who knew more about man than the best trained devil in the profession. Voltaire was a terrible, malicious and witty devil, Napoleon vain and magnificent. These are all flesh of our flesh. Hell was a heavy, shapeless, pregnant cloud and these people were its flashes of lightning. We were good at gathering material and they, using us and our stupidity, made their incredible careers out of it. Man robbed us of all our ideas and inventions, and he robbed the heavens too, stealing the lightning."
"Why did you allow this?"
"You forget we are under a wardship and have no right of open representation. In the forest of life we are merely poachers while the true hunter, hunting openly and with lethal weapons, is Man."
"Poor devils."
"Thank you for your good words ... What I'm telling you is only a rough outline of the devil's tragedy. If we were to look at it more closely, to examine the idea of the devil in all its contexts we would have to write volumes, talk about it for years. And what do I know? Nothing. I am only a devil of the seventieth degree, a very insignificant and poor devil. You ought to know that all the esoteric theories took their hierarchy of initiation from our system. I am merely an infernal menial, a hell-proletarian, though I must add, an intelligent proletarian ..
"I've already had the pleasure of making a note of that. .
"Oh, I am touched ... There are however outstanding, wise devils of genius ... They would be able to show you how man, the cleverest being in the universe, is indebted to us."
"Permit me to ask you this: do you hate people?"
"That would be saying too much. I am afraid of people and one can't be said to be fond of somebody one fears."
"Why have you assumed human form? Why are you sitting here living a human life?"
"Necessity, my dear sir. And this is my heart-rending tragedy. I was expelled from hell ..."
"Expelled? From hell? You must be joking. Hell does not give anything back."
"That's another false legend about hell. In fact I was stripped of the rights of resident, hence my sorrow and nostalgia. It's all those damn cutbacks."
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Your laughter wounds my heart. I'm not joking, hell was swept by a wave of job reductions."
"But why?"
"There's a recession in hell. I'll try to explain. You see, when the world was, one way or the other, still cultivating virtue, or as you say, lived in fear of God, we were rather empty. We had to win people, work for it, make expeditions. Devils were sent out into the world like salesmen and they would jump out of their seventh skin to bring someone back to hell. You understand? ..."
"It's not that difficult to grasp."
"Even I, a devil of the lowest rank, even I had something to do, in fact quite a lot. Once I spent seven years tempting a cashier to `do' the till. It took half a year to persuade a girl to `forget herself. And today? Today, my dear sir, the road to hell is flooded by a crowd of volunteers, horrible, new people, uninteresting, with bad manners, smelly, badly dressed, grey people. What hell needs a devil? Half of them tell lies, a third of them steal, a quarter of them do the dirtiest things and all of them play on the stock exchange. For God's sake! Ten years ago you wouldn't find a businessman there even if you tried. Now, go and see. . . "
"If you don't mind, I'll take your word f o r it ..."
"Oh, I didn't mean it, you still have time. But I'll tell you a stranger thing: not so long ago a Polish cobbler was a rare thing in hell."
"Can't be!"
"And yet it's true. They were a tough, brave, honest and God-fearing breed; it was easier to find a cardinal in hell than a cobbler. And today? Today you can have an army of cobblers in hell. Terrible what's become of these people. The cobblers were soon followed by tailors, tailors by the other trades. So what's the devil to do? Nothing. Only keep order at the gates so the rascals don't push one another. Never was hell so full of riff-raff as it is now. Thus, half of the workforce went to the devil, that is, they were made redundant and thrown out onto the street. On the street meaning we were transferred to earth, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth. And so I'm here, and weep."
"Do you really feel so bad?"
"Bad? Sir, I am the most unhappy being on earth."
"Well, well, well..."
"Don't you believe me? Look what I am and where I am! In a rotten, muddy hole performing tricks in a cabaret."
"I can see that, but I don't understand. With your tricks and your intelligence you could live like a prince in Paris."
"No, sir, I can't. My stupid trickery is good enough for this riff-raff, even my more difficult tricks are just for them. I would draw too much attention to myself in Paris, which would be dangerous. Besides, Paris is overcrowded with devils, everybody went into the big cities. A few found a place in the diplomatic corps, many opened bars and gambling houses. I'm too modest and unused to big city life. So I've clenched my teeth and vegetate here. And anyway, I used to work in these parts, I know the country and the people. I don't want to take risks; even here I've had enough troubles. At any rate, my heart's broken by homesickness."
"So, has life been so bad from the beginning?"
"No. I tried different professions. Of course there was a problem for, as you can see, this damn foot always gets in the way. With such a foot I cannot be a postman, a messenger, an actor, singer, cyclist, soldier, I cannot be a dance teacher. So I had to try my hand at all sorts of things and managed to earn a bit of money."
"Excellent!"
"Alas, I entered a partnership with someone who cheated me. Then I gambled on the stock exchange and went bust. I was ruined and you see now what I do. I want to cry when I walk onto this stage."
"With due respect, I don't want to offend you . .
"Please, go ahead ..."
"Well, with all your intelligence, with your phenomenal skills and your devilish disappearing act, you could. . . "
"What? ... Go on..
"You could make a lot of money any way you wanted to."
"What way, for instance?"
"Well ... The simplest ... Any old bank ... you understand ... Any jeweller ..."
"What?"
"Please, don't be offended, but it's so simple ..."
"No, sir. It is not that simple. I am not offended, for you are a human being and you cannot imagine that I can not, that I should not take advantage of my devilish skills. But, you see, the devil is not a robber, even though he is robbed. Whatever deal the devil struck up man always cheated him, never the other way round. The devil believed in man's word, man believed it should not be kept. He had an easy way out and always took it. But the devil upholds the rules of honour, and honour forbids stealing."
"Please, forgive me . . . "
"Oh, never mind, you couldn't have thought differently. Devils have never had a good name. Many human traits pain me, many I find ridiculous and irritating but what truly rouses my bile is man's total disregard for the devil. Man doesn't know himself why, and to what purpose, he throws around all these stupid sayings about the devil - `the devil take you!', `go to the devil', `devil's bones' and `devil's books' a mountain of terrifying beauty will always be `the devil's rock' and a dangerous pass `the devil's pass' or `neck'. Let it be, some of them are simply stupid, the others
, true, come from admiration for the devil. But please explain to me, where do sayings like `satanic laughter' or the `devil's smile' come from?"
"Indeed, I don't know ..."
"I do. Man draws his knowledge about the devil from the opera. Some idiot actor playing the devil squeezes a couple of croaks out of his belly which are then called `satanic' or `infernal laughter'."
"And how does the devil laugh?"
"The devil never laughs. Nowhere in the universe is there a being more profoundly sad, more woeful than the devil. Why? This is not the time or the place for such questions. Let us leave it. But returning to my story I have yet another practical problem: I have no documents. As you've probably guessed I have not been christened and so I haven't a birth certificate. I arrived in this world as a finished product, in the form you are seeing now, without any ID."
I smiled but did not say anything. The devil noticed my smile and responded to it:
"A false one? Nothing simpler. But as I told you I have an aversion to cheating. One can live without documents and, obviously, it is easier in a small town where little attention is paid to these things than in a big city, where you're asked to produce your documents at every step..
"But how on earth could you get married without a birth certificate? Not to mention the fact that one usually marries in church?"
"My dear sir, it's easier to get a wife than an ID. The solemn ceremony of my marriage is not only left undocumented but no one has seen it. My wife was an opportunity sent by heaven, if I may put it that way. And since I couldn't expect heaven to send also its blessings and happiness I've ended up groaning under this heaviest of misfortunes."
"But isn't living in sin also dishonest?"
"Not in the least. It's a good, honest business only without the customary approval. Sometimes it is marriage that is out right dishonest, as people make a vow they know they are not going to keep. Besides, in the matter of love, when it really binds two people together, the question of dishonesty doesn't arise. People, and I must insist that I am a man, do not cheat when they get together; they do it after."
"Do you love your wife?"
"I have a rather sentimental disposition ..."
"Does she know who you are?"
"No. I don't think she even suspects that I am a devil, for if she did she would have more respect for me, or even fear me.
"She feels none of these ... ?"
"If persistent knocking on the head with a fairly heavy object is a sign of respect I am the most respected of husbands."
"Why do you suffer all this?"
"I am a man, sir. The devil in me rebels but the man in me accepts that I must suffer. Besides, the romantic side of life according to human conception, this thing called love, which this woman constantly bestows upon me, a love somewhat cloudy, perhaps even a touch too stormy and so full of pain, this love is my only diversion. Humbled as a man I forget that I am a free devil. My suffering is that much smaller and my wife's yelping helps to numb my homesick heart."
"Extraordinary! So you miss hell so much?"
"Oh, yes. I feel so awfully miserable I wouldn't dare to tell you just how much. I can't live in the atmosphere of moral fustiness, in this morass, among thieves and small time crooks, among petty swindles and perfidies. I want to die!"
"What's stopping you? Is it so difficult to die?"
The poor devil looked at me sadly.
"Of course! It's easy, it's easy for you, it's easy for everybody. For me, it's not easy."
"Are you afraid?"
"What the hell are you talking about? I want to die the way you want to live; for no other way but through the gates of death can I return where my soul longs to be, among my own kind."
"But they don't want you there."
"You're beginning to understand my situation. Yes, they don't want me there and they won't allow me to die. One day they will, the devil is not as unrelentingly merciless as man. One day my brothers will take pity on me and let me escape from this prison."
"Have you tried to die?"
"But of course. I kept thinking, deluding myself with the hope that I'd be called back or that they'd let me in if I just turned up. I shot myself, the bullet went through me and broke the window. I tried to drown myself, keeping my head under the water for hours until I got bored stiff. My relationship with this woman wasn't such a thoughtless step. I was counting on moving hell with my torture and humiliation; I was hoping that what could not be achieved through the deadliest of means could be achieved by a woman ..."
"That reasoning is not altogether groundless ..."
"And yet ... I ate cyanide like sweets, I threw myself under trains but all I could achieve was their derailment. Hence my sorrow and melancholy. In desperation I wanted to intoxicate myself, fall into a state which would be at least half a death, I wanted to go mad and I've read all you people have written about it ..."
"And nothing?"
"As you can see ... nothing."
"What about hanging ... ?"
"Oh, twenty times, it's not even worth mentioning. I was hanging for hours only to be taken down..
"But, my dear fellow ... !"
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you think I'm an idiot, or merely drunk?"
"You are drunk to what I call a `reasonable' degree, and your intelligence amazes me. I wouldn't dare to insult a man I'm drinking with. Drinking binds people together more than anything."
"So it's all true?"
"I told you, all that is-human-in me is the body."
I rubbed my eyes and a terrible thought entered my mind.
"Do forgive me," I said, "it's not that I don't believe you ... it's just that it is so unbelievable ..."
"It would be interesting to see, wouldn't it?"
"Exactly!"
"Well, what would you like me to do? Have you got a gun?"
"Unfortunately ..."
"Some poison?"
"Apart from the one we are drinking, no."
"Wait! there's a solid hook in the wall here and it shouldn't be a problem to find a rope. I'll hang myself for your pleasure ... I see there's a bottle of cognac left. With your permission, I wouldn't like to leave behind anything as good as this."
A feverish excitement came over me. The man was serious. He drank for a long while and then said:
"Please, pray for me that I go to hell ..."
"If it pleases you ... What are you doing?! Are you mad?!"
"I'm hanging myself!"
"I can't let you!"
"Dear sir, I am quite drunk but I know what I'm doing. You just sit down, smoke your cigarette and watch. If you feel lonely take ine down, if you want to leave, leave. My wife will take me down tomorrow morning and I'll come and see you before your departure. Good night, I'll be seeing you.
I was standing completely paralysed, watching this madman tying the rope to the hook, getting up on the chair, putting his head through the noose, tightening it and finally kicking the chair away. I had no strength to cry out. I had a feeling that the rope was tightening round my own neck. What have I done? Oh, what have I done?
The poor devil stretched tensely and his head inclined to the left, a perfect picture. A smile of gentle contempt was stuck on his face, his eyes were closed. No sound came from him. He was hanging quietly, he must have been dead.
An icy fear swept over me and I started shivering. I felt my hair stand on end. I wanted to cry for help but couldn't. What was the use of crying anyway? This terrifying jester was by now laughing in hell, the charlatan-magician had paid for his stupid joke with his life.
I sobered up and it dawned on me that I was to blame for the man's death and that I would have to answer for it. We were seen drinking together, I was the last person seen with him alive. The situation was beginning to look grim.
I was overcome by cowardice which crept out from some dark crevice of my heart. I ran away. Furtively, gingerly, careful not to be seen by anybody. Fear followed me and I ran just ahead of it. I bu
rst into the hotel and started packing hurriedly. Grey dawn was already looking in through the windows. My train was leaving in a few hours. Sheer despair!
Weak, overcome by fear, I was going mad under the torture. Two hours left, one hour. It's broad daylight, they must have found that tragic fool, that drunkard who tricked another drunkard. The police will be here any minute.
Someone knocked on my door.
My heart stopped in its tracks like a frightened hare in a burrow. My hands gripped the chair.
"The police!" my soul groaned inside me.
Someone knocked again and, since I did not respond, entered the room.
On all the devils of all hells! I reeled, my eyes nearly fell out of my head. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
He! It was he, in person, standing in the doorway smiling his gentle contemptuous smile.
"I'm sorry," he said sadly, "but I wanted to keep my word."
"Is it you?"
"What's so strange? I told you I would come. I was a bit sad that you left my company and, so lightly, half a bottle of cognac. But it's the human way, I'm still trying to understand it. If you hanged yourself I would not leave you alone ... But please, don't be offended ...
"The fear ..."
"Yes, I understand, I understand, let's not talk about it ... It's nothing compared to the fact that I've failed again. I was hanging for hours, in vain. My dear sir, I am so unhappy..
My heart was touched. Indeed, this must be the unhappiest man on earth. Suddenly, out of my gloomy reverie came a brilliant thought.
"My dear fellow! Have you got some time to spare?"
"A hundred, two hundred million years..
"In half an hour I'm leaving for the capital, come with me!"
"My misfortune is the same wherever I go. What for?"
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