North
Page 6
I don’t want Le Vigan to shoot off his mouth any more, I take command
“Thank you very much, well go there right away … would, you be kind enough to notify the Steinbock Hotel … to phone?”
Only too glad to get rid of us!
“Ja! … Ja! … Ja!”
I fold a hundred mark note in four … in eight … I put it in his fist … and pump his hand, hard … he gets the Steinbock on the line … I hear their beautiful dialogue … “Fine … stimmt!” It’s okay! They can take us! We’re good tippers …
I take out another hundred mark note to be ready when we get there … something to have the whole universe down on you! …
“And now, Le Vigan, let’s go!”
No more fooling around! … if we get thrown out of the Steinbock Hotel, where’ll we go then … and I tell them, Lili and our friend the illustrious artist … to ask me before they say anything … not to put their foot in it! …
First thing is to find this Schinderstrasse! … the admiral-receptionist steps outside with us … he shows us … the fourth? … third? … on the left? … we can’t go wrong! … so he says! … but I knew these stage sets … these house fronts … you think a street exists, it’s not there any more … the whole interior, beams, bricks, stairways, is hanging out the windows … or piled up outside the doors … in the distance you see bricks piled up to a certain height … what’s left of a building … You get the knack … no sidewalk, only, a little path wide enough for one … between the high wall of garbage and the so-called houses … From the “Basler” to Schinder Street, all we saw after two minutes was chunks of house front swaying, crumbling … and the shutters … make you laugh! … in every gust of wind, there’s a lot of wind in a city with no more buildings … it must be terrible in Hiroshima! bam! … a window came out at you! … might have killed you … with canes … without canes … ah, there it is, Schinderstrasse … No. 15 … the junkpile doesn’t go above the first balcony … “Hotel Steinbock” … only a part of the sign is left … the bell doesn’t work! never mind, in we go! … no one there! I look around … what’s left or the Steinbock Hotel… I’d better find somebody … I see a little court in back … more heaps of garbage, bricks, etcetera … but not in order, not-neatly piled … oh no! … more like the outskirts of Paris in the old days … plus excrement … oh well! … that too is a style! … and almost black down there at the end … dark and moldy … on one side there’s only the ground floor … no window, no door … curtains … Does anybody live in this hole? … I shout: hey! hey! … someone’s coming out of the black mold … a moujik! … I mean it, a real one! … beard, boots, baggy shirt … and a broad smile … anyway, he’s friendly … he speaks German … not well but well enough … I answer him in pidgin Boche … we make out … he’s the manager of the Steinbock … from Siberia, he tells me … prisoner? … deportee? …Vlasov? ° … I don’t ask him … but he starts right in … an enthusiast! … singing the praises of his Siberia! … what are we waiting for? Siberia! So rich! … so full of game! flowers! greenery! hospitality! I can’t imagine … those valleys! those pastures! … the shrubbery! … the gardenias! breathtaking! … a load of propaganda! … massive … we could leave right away! … go live in Siberia! … I raise objections … yes, yes, of course! but Berlin won’t let us go … Is he an Intourist agent? I’ll ask him … that must be his wife looking at us, she’s lifting the curtain a little … a regular baba, slanting eyes, kerchief … she’s not very talkative … I try to help … Le Vigan dives in … a hundred marks neatly folded … she sees we’ve got good manners … she signs to her moujik that we’re acceptable … he can take us …
“A room?”
“A room… certainly! right away! … two rooms! of course! … wherever you like! second floor? … not bad … at least we won’t sleep in the streets … and the chow? … is he going to ask us for coupons? … no, there’ll be soup, their own soup, three messkits full, and black bread and beer … this hotel isn’t’much to look at, but at least they’re glad to have us! … the Russian occupation has its good side! up we go! … the stairs … steps missing! … you can’t go any higher … the third floor isn’t there any more … open sky … the second is fine … What numbers? … no difference … “pull! push!” Good joke!….the doors don’t open!… stuck! warped! … we all push! … the walls and partitions give way! … lovely!… a whole wall collapses on top of us … big hole… you can see into the room, you can even go in … in we go … with a pile of plaster, wallpaper, bricks … oh, two folding beds … for Lili, me, and Bébert … what about Le Vigan? The next room … not through the door, oh no! … we know better … if we tried to force it the whole corridor would cave in! … maybe the whole Steinbock … the walls are only too glad to open up … but it takes a delicate touch! Le Vigan is handy with his penknife, he loosens a brick … another … very subtly… careful to keep away from the doors!… there, that does it! … his room is like ours, except no bedside table … no pitcher, no basin … a little mirror … cracked, but even so! …”
“Ferdinand, I look terrible!”
“Oh no, a little tired, it’s only natural…”
He often gets that end-of-the-road-of-sorrows look … Christ on the Mount of Olives … ever since his last picture La Passion … and now since the Care de l’Est, the attack on his train, his shirts all hacked up and the state of France … he gets a bit dejected sometimes … Christ himself had a pretty rough time … once they’ve played Christ … I’ve seen it time and time again, actors and even directors … its for life … give them the slightest chance and they’re Christ! … Just ask an actor if he’s played Christ, if the answer’s yes you know what to expect … or a woman if she’s played the Virgin … she’ll still be doing it when he’s a hundred … I didn’t want him to start in now, crucify himself on the folding bed … the situation was sticky enough without that, it seemed to me … quick! … quick! … I say something about our soup, the moujik, and our messkits … would he kindly go see … if they’d forgotten us … he knew where … the end of the court … but somebody’s coming! … steps … the man with the beard! … I change the subject … the last alert? I ask him …
Oh, every night! but no more bombs! the bombs are … finished!”
Maybe so, but for my money those planes are nuts, they’ll start in again … they came back all right, but not until months later, and then for a three-ring circus … right now, us there, it was a lull … they were busy on the borders and on London, not Berlin … anyway, we had a pad! not very solid, but oh well! … the whole world was fragile! … if we’d been in Paris it’d been our skins! … stripped to the bone! … no use complaining … better the Steinbock than the slaughterhouse! …
We sit down on our folding beds and think … plenty to think about … Bébert goes exploring … the way cats do, the minute they get someplace, even in times of great danger, they’ve got to reconnoiter the premises and environs … their living space … that’s why it’s so ticklish taking them to the country … their instinct, they run away and end up in somebody’s cookpot … there at the Steinbock his “living space” was the corridor … in half a second he’d got to the end … Lili calls him … he doesn’t come … she goes to see … a curtain … I go too, the three of us look out, Lili, me, and Bébert … nothing! … the void … a void at least seven stories deep, a giant bomb had made a crater big enough to hold several buildings … the Steinbock can say it had a close call! … a bomb is a lottery … it finds you? gone forever! If you’re in luck, somebody else takes the plunge! It’s a game you can play on your vacation: who dives? him? her? or me? … At the Steinbock, all in all, we had it good … Le Vigan comes back with the messkits … very decent! red cabbage with cream, the moujik follows with bottled beer and mineral water … a perfect meal! … say! and black bread … the moujik is spoiling us … he doesn’t ask for coupons … we he down, we’re entitled, we’ve had quite a hike … No more. Windows … only the frames an
d two three half-panes … this Russian is really okay, he brings us two big rugs to use for curtains … we hang them up … now we’ve got privacy, of sorts … all we’ve got to do to visit Le Vigan is take out two squares of plaster … but we can only get out to the corridor by pivoting four bricks … not through the door! hell no! the whole third floor would cave in! Bébert goes in and out where he likes … cracks … rat holes … curtains … some of the crevices are a little, wider, room for Lili to get through … she goes out … other end of the corridor … she calls me … I don’t feel like it…
“Oh, come on!”
“What do you see?”
“Another hole!”
Okay! … I drag myself … on all fours … I demolish a little more of the wall … Le Vig comes too, on all fours … here we are at the other end of the floor … another precipice at the edge of a crater, a different crater! … a big carpet hung up to keep out the breezes … after the carpet the void, another hole … big enough to sink three houses … maybe they’re in it … they must be … the Steinbock Hotel was in luck, it could have collapsed on both sides … a lot of it came off, only three floors are standing … if you call it standing … which reminds me … I’ve got to ask the moujik where the other guests are … “sight-seeing”? … the new Berlin? … but say, what about our pictures? …
“Le Vig! the Photomaton!”
The cop with the passports musst be wondering what’s become of us … must be back from lunch by now … he’ll think we’re pulling a fast one … Hell! a little rest first … especially after that cabbage soup … I’m not saying anything, but it was kind of heavy … so here we are on all fours, prospecting another crack … wider, easier going … Bébert finds a big one … I hadn’t seen it … there! we’ve made it! but all covered with plaster, sand, ashes … we’ll wash …
“Ivan! Ivan!” I call.
He hasn’t told me his name but he can’t have any objection to Ivan … maybe he’s got a brush? with all this plaster and muck we could use a curry-comb …
“Ivan! Ivan!”
Nobody comes … we he down … Le Vig drops off … I could do the same … Lili’s dozing … Bébert is between the two of us …
It was almost dark when the sirens started in … first one … then a hundred! … without those sirens we’d still be sleeping …
“Le Vig! … Le Vig! …”
“Don’t worry … the Russian said they’ve stopped bombing … they just pass over …”
Ivan in the corridor, I hear him … what’s he want?
“A couple of holes aren’t the end of the world!”
I disagree …
“Forget it, forget it, I tell you … they’re going someplace else …”
Le Vig has faith.
Ah, here’s Ivan! he comes in … three more messkits, potatoes and beets and mineral water! where does he get all this stuff?
“Ivan, have you got a little meat? … not for us, for our cat here?”
“Da! da! da! Ich will!”
This Ivan is providential … deserves another hundred marks … I’ll ruin myself for Ivan!
“Le Vigan … Le Vigan! … come and eat!”
He crawls through his crevice, he’s yawning …
“Is it like this in Russia?”
I’m curious …
“Ach! viel besser! much better!”
“And in Siberia!”
“Noch viel, besser! … much better still!”
“See? That’s the place for us …”
“Siberia, here we come!”
All set! … Ivan stands there looking at us … do we really like the food?
“Merkwürdig, Ivan! marvelous!”
Siberia? Well, we’d better sleep on it.
“What’s worrying me right now is that cop.”
Le Vigan thinks it over.i
“He’s not expecting us back!”
“But the pictures?”
I feel more energetic, I think we’d better go … Ivan comes in with a little piece of meat … I know about meat … this meat doesn’t smell … but it’s pale … I’m not trying to upset your stomach, but a spade … got to call it a spade … “one sees only what one looks at and one looks only at what one already has in mind” … Bébert sniffs at this piece of pale meat … he bites into it, he doesn’t turn it down … no comment … well, at least, he’s got something to eat … Le Vig goes back to his bedspring, he’s asleep again … we’ll do the same, I guess … talking is out … can’t hear anything but the sirens … they bellow an hour at least … two hours false alarm … not a single bomb … Ivan had said so … nothing but sound effects … so let’s doze if we can … we need a rest … I’ll see the dawn coming … I can lie like this for hours, I’m used to it … I had a feeling Ivan wasn’t far away … he must be watching to see what we’re up to … a peephole, a private crack …
“Komm, Ivan! Komm!”
Can’t he stop pussyfooting? … I want to talk to him … it bugs me his roaming around this way … here he is! …
“Ivan … the other guests?”
“All weg! all gone!”
So that’s why there was room for us!
“And the coffee?”
His wife must have some downstairs … I slip him another hundred marks … he’ll be rich if this goes on … Ivan is willing … he goes down and comes back with a tray, three bowls, a coffeepot, powdered milk, and a pile of black bread … loaves and slices …
“Sugar, Ivan…”
The sugar comes out of his pocket … big lumps … two apiece … nothing to complain about …
“Ivan … Künstler … bright as a new ruble! … maybe they’ll send you home … you deserve it… to Siberia! … you’ll open a palace hotel! … nach Siberia!”
“Ach! ach! ach!”
We may as well enjoy ourselves … we’re not here to weep! … our morale at the Steinbock Hotel was tops! Proof: we drank all his phony coffee, with his bread, if you can call it bread, half sawdust … and his sugar … pure saccharine … and lukewarm! …
“Hey, Ferd! Look at this!”
I go look out his window, I lift the curtain … Schinderstrasse is waking up … people coining and going … mostly crews picking up the junk … stones, rabble … still falling! … gangs of old men and women … they pick the stuff up, they make new piles … neat and orderly … pretty soon there won’t be any more sidewalk, too many piles, too high, too wide, pyramids … I’ve told you, the house fronts that are left wobble, float, sway and flake in the wind … the scavengers come out of their holes at dawn … day rats … they don’t work fast, not much enthusiasm, but plenty of order … old hands, old bodies, rheumatic, haggard, twisted … wonder where they eat? are they Russians? … Baltics?… down-and-outers from here?… they’re all wearing pants … well, practically … the ones in skirts look more like men … they all seem to be smoking … smoking what? … pretty soon there won’t be anything left of the houses … nothing but dust and craters … the Steinbock can expect to be a mound before long … there are two stories on the sidewalk already … those gangs of old gravediggers are working for the future! They make Hamlet look like a smalltime punk, a spoiled dialectician … he should have gone to work on the Castle, demolished it stone by stone … done him a lot of good! there wouldn’t have been so many alas alases out of him! I saw those old people toiling, they looked like ghosts, not very quick I’ll admit but extra conscientious, piling up those tiles … till there wasn’t one left lying around … even looking across the street, in the other piles that came from the Steinbock, that belonged to our ruin … really hardworking … none of your slapdash slobs … Those crews … when the world is all ashes … when the whole planet’s reduced to neutron sludge … they’ll make little piles of those chemical compounds, say three four piles to a capital … five piles for Brooklyn-Manhattan … of course I’m joking! … well see what happens … now we’re on Schinderstrasse … two piles for Paris! … we’ve lost the thread �
�� I’ll get back! … we look out at the street … those people put order in everything … not just bricks … everything falls … chimneys … drain pipes, bathtubs … but us there … what about our Photomaton?
“Do you remember where it is?”
“Oh yes… sure!”
That’s good … right near the “Basler” … where they threw us out … Zip! A burst of energy! don’t want the police looking for us! quick, our pictures! even if they are unrecognizable! I call Ivan … here he comes … I tell him not to touch anything … we’re reporting to the police … won’t be five minutes … no window-shopping! … Out there in the street I see that I really need a cane … I was picking myself up every three steps … I’m like the houses … wobbly … we pass through streets … probably the same … as full of old wrecks as ours … picking things up, piling … they’re smoking too, anything they can lay hands on … dressed the same, rags and strings, semi-skirts and tag ends of pants … they talk about poverty in Shanghai, there’s plenty of that wherever you go … ah, here’s our Photomaton! … no trouble finding it! but what a mob! … I’m entitled to double priority … war invalid and doctor … my armband … “Bezons Passive Defense” … I put it on … fuck those other people, I go right in, so do Lili, Le Vig, and Bébert … mutterings! … I show them my red cross … they look … I proclaim in a loud voice … “Foreign Affairs!” … I’d tell them anything … that we’re Beelzebub and his court … to get in to the young lady and not be thrown out for being late … the chick doesn’t ask me any questions, she sits us down … each in front of a big glass eye … Le Vig wants time to think … a second … just long enough to pretty up … no soap! … click! click! click!! … we’re taken … the technician can’t wait… she shows us all the people outside … in half a second our three stools are occupied! … and us back on our feet … they develop them in the cubbyhole … two minutes … here they are! … I pay … we’ll look at our mugs outside … plenty of time … we look … and look again … Lili, me, and Le Vig… we’ve changed! … the cop at the Polizei was right … I don’t worry about my face very much, but this was rich! … those bulging eyes, case of “Basedow” pretty near … no cheeks! … flabby mouths, like drowned people … all three of us! … really horrible! three monsters! can’t deny it! … how did we get to be monsters? … same as with the canes, just like that, all of a sudden’… my staggers started in Baden-Baden … we must have got those pop-eyed murderers’ mugs at the Simplon … from shock? … we’re real cute! … especially Le Vigan … comical … the charm boy, as entrancing in real life as on the stage or screen … the women all mad about him! he’s just as goofy as we are in these “photomatons” … hunted, desperate … Lili too, so pretty, regular features, absolutely nothing criminal about her, here she’s the murderous stepmother, her hair’s a Sabbath tornado, a wicked old witch, when she’s not twenty yet…