“You danced too much, honey!…”
“Oh, but it was so amusing!…”
She had no regrets… Her pug nose such impertinence… always in a flutter over every trifle, a smile, a laugh, a small suggestion, now the fog was turning to drizzle, beading upon her beautiful hair, her divine curls, with every wet gust…
All! I kissed her once more… twice… three times… as we ran along… just like that, double-quick!… Sweetheart darling!… We’d stopped worrying about Sosthène… Who was talking to himself behind us…
“Where are we going?” he shouts at me sudden like!…
“Get there! Then you’ll see!”
True, I had to pick a spot.
“Well?”
I was leaning towards returning to her uncle’s. Things had to be patched up quickly because I was leaving… Maybe I could stall a little longer?… Maybe phone him up first?… Now that was wise, sensible… I was looking at Sosthène, the girl… they were waiting for me to decide…
The weather was clearing up a little… it wasn’t coming down so hard… it might just turn out to be a beautiful day… maybe we could wait until evening?… Bop around a bit longer… Take advantage of the time we had left?…
“Aren’t you cold, Virginia?”
“Chilly! Chilly!…” she laughs back.
Complaining wasn’t her style… even in downpours… There was the matter of her short skirt… It had rubbed Cascade the wrong way… Maybe it was even shorter now that it was drenched…
You could already see her legs, strong and delicate, muscular, tanned, feline… oh, the wonderful arc from thigh to ankle!… Taut with the bloom of youth, with joy!… Blazing, leaping with light!
Ah! My eyes played tricks on me every time! Oh! Hell! Oh! Man! I can still see that skimpy little skirt… charming, amusing… with pleats… tartan…
Oh! That’s a fact, the hem was high, even for England!… Plus on top of that… a bun in the oven… well, only I knew… But still! Still! Oh! Knock it off! Your eyes aren’t playing tricks, you’ve got to take action! Should we go back?… Or not?… All! I splitter, splatter, splutter… I quiver… don’t know my ass from my elbow… I can see this is all going to come to an awful end…
“I got it!” I shout… “I got it!”
That’s all.
I wasn’t writing novels yet. I didn’t know how to doodle out seven hundred pages like that in crazy quilt patterns… I was choking with excitement…
Sosthène throws in the towel, plops down right on the sidewalk… waiting for me to make up my mind…
“Whenever you’re ready!…”
He’s freezing, shaking. I see he’s a miserable wreck…
I ask: “Not feeling good, huh?”
“Oh! I’ll get over it!…” he reassures me… “It’s my heart… skipping a beat…”
I give him a chance to rest up… the bus is better than the Tube… I thought it over… The Tube’s crawling with cops… I announce to Sosthène: “The bus!”
“Go ahead! Go ahead! You’re in charge!…”
Well all right then! I’m determined!…
“London Bridge, OK, we’ll cross it… the bus from the Monument… Number 113… York Square stop! You phone up!…”
“No! Not me, you!”
“If you like…”
“Your way’s the only way, Monsieur!… Come on, we’ll be right behind…” I hold out my hands, pull him up to his feet, we start off again nice and slowly. London Bridge isn’t right around the corner, there’s still a ways to go, we ran ourselves ragged with all our zigzagging, crisscrossing to cover our tracks, from one back street to another… we’re done in… At last there it is… It’s high, from where we are down on Tooley Street I mean… A real climb… But then from the handrail we have this lookout! We can see almost clear to Woolwich, the entire vista, the whole river up to Manor Way… King’s Docks… It’s a wonderful view…
I tell him: “Now’s the time to catch our breath! Just get a lungful of that air…” It’s true, a sea breeze… it sweeps past you up on the parapet… blasts you in shifting gusts… washes your face clean…
From up there we can see the boats… all the activity of the wharfs… all the grand goings-on… dropping anchor… crews… the whole racket… the whole carousel… fat ones… skinny ones… long and tapered… camouflaged… the flat stockades… the whole works towed, steered among the swirling eddies… a whistle blast! The decks explode in commotion!… Hard on the oars veering out making fast… gripping the seamarks… the buoys bobbing… impudent dinghies oh everywhere… racing past, pivoting, splashing… whipping up a froth… ten, a hundred, a thousand… everything plays tricks with your eyes… you’ve got to love it… It sure does fascinate me… No secret there… I gaze on in wonder… I want them to experience it… I want my two little pets to go just as crazy over it… I draw their attention, Sosthène’s and the girl’s, to the deftness, the winning way the boats draw in, drift, ship oars… smoothly down the length of the river… It’s going to fascinate them too, but they’re cold, they let me know… The seagulls are crisscrossing the sky, to and fro, hovering, swooping down on the beacons… tenderly perching…
The great current roars under the arches way down below, swelling, furrowing, frothing… nasty, must say… knocking about, roughing up the small dinghies… driving them back into the wind! The big steamer Cardiff loaded down starting out on its way belting, ploughing, plugging, driving towards the pylons… Chug! Chug! Chug!… The entire machine… pale churning wild… gives up moors… Ker-bang plunk!… The enormous heap of metal… a thundering racket!… Ship at anchor!
That snaps me out of it… whew!… “Just get a load of that,” I point out to them… “Tell me it isn’t terrific! The skill in manoeuvring… the dangers…” They get the picture, but they’re cold. They’re cold, period.
“Fine! All right then! On our way!…”
I’ll drop it.
It’s still sort of dark out… The electric Wrigley sign, huge sucker, is still lit, we can just about make it out through the fog, even though we’re practically on top of it, off to our right above the Orpington factory… It’s going to be a cloudy day, now I’m scared. I thought it’d be sunny.
The gusts of wind stink of soot, we linger on the parapet until I make up my mind once and for all, off to the Colonel’s or not, and then this pungent, deep-yellow smoke, from a fire still visible out towards East Ham, flickering glows, with huge licks of flame off and on.
The Zeppelins really did come. The old geezer can’t see shit, but Virginia’s got good eyes. She can see out there in the distance… I show her… right by Cannon Dock… That’s where we were just now…
“Hey, they’ve left!” I notice… “Sosthène!” I wake him up.
“Left, what?”
“The Kong Hamsün! Dummy!”
It was a fact, not a single mast, and you can spot sailing ships all the way to kingdom come… sticking out over the rooftops…
No argument from him.
“Yes!… Yes!… Right you are!…”
He was coming to terms with it.
Sharp northern blasts whipped us full in the face. Sosthène was all shivery, jiggling like crazy from the chill.
“You sick or what, huh? You sick?”
“You… you… you got… eyes!”
“OK, let’s get going!”
Another at least three-four hundred yards across the rest of the bridge. I lay my hooks into them. Virginia in one arm… him in the other…
“Off we go! My little scamps! On the double!… Can you both hear me?…” I repeat the orders.
“So, on to the Monument, via the 113! At York Square, everybody off! It’s not hard! You, miss, phone up!”
There now, that’s terrific!
“Yes, but what do you say to maybe getting a cup of java!”
He got the idea in his head.
“A cup of java where? A cup of java, that’s easy to say! It’s sti
ll too early…”
“Some mocha, mister!”
He won’t let go.
“Where you going to dig it up?”
“Right nearby!” He points to the opposite shore…
I knew he had a thing for java.
“At the Calabar! Ever been?”
Never.
“In Twickenham, you oaf! Take it from me! After the station… Victor Saloon!…”
“At this time of morning?”
“You bet!”
“How’d you know?”
“A little bird told me…”
Ah! I know this flimflam artist like a book! He’s giving us the come-on…
For the kid too, it was a good idea! A hot cup of coffee is just what she needed.
Regardless, this was a moment’s weakness… we should have picked up and left pronto straight away just the way we were and gone over to her uncle’s, and not keep roving, traipsing around… from one coffeehouse to another… just excuses… not the thing to do, not responsible. I realized this… but the pair led me astray…
“Mocha is life!”
The prospect bucks him back up… puts him in a totally clownish, prankish mood…
Standing in the middle of the bridge on a windy day gives you a force to reckon with, the gusts turn you around, sweep you off… Got to fight your way through…
It was giving them the biggest kick in the world, grand old practical jokers now, friends, making like they were flying away, whisked off into empty air, with me running after them, latching on…
Two little loonies…
“Come on!” I lose my temper… “Knock it off!”
They pretended to kick the bucket. The old geezer hammed it up the worst.
I tackle the kid, arm in arm… now, forward march!
I’m fighting the gusts with her. Ah! This is a genuine tempest, make no mistake about that! She’s laughing! Laughing! She’s happy!…
“Ah! What a pretty sight!” I shout. “Youth!…”
Sosthène comes up from behind. He’s acting the rake, the rogue…
Is that you little lady?
From the other afternoon?
He sings in his falsest falsetto…
Up against me in the Tube…
He’s jigging, turning himself on… a sudden gust catches him… carries him off. He goes slamming into the parapet… doesn’t give a damn, he’s cracking up too hard! The pair are laughing themselves silly…
Another squall, a real violent blast… we wobble… zigzag… stopped short, pushed back, we forge ahead once more… all three of us pushing forward…
Hurray! The end! We’ve done it! Crossed the bridge! Whew!… Ah! Some fun!… They’re in seventh heaven, splitting their sides, never been through anything so hilarious!
I smooth her skirt down, the wind had blasted it up to her chin. They’d have walked back into the city looking like that… They didn’t give a hoot about anything any more… Now they want to play hide and seek… They’re impossible!… I’m the only one not chuckling… They’re not one bit tired any more… I have a genius for making people laugh. They want me to give them a demo of my bitching-and-moaning routine. They refuse to budge an inch until I start making my face, knotting my brows.
“Ferdinand, dear! Make your face!…”
“Come on, let’s go! Hit the road!”
I’ve had it.
Now I’m the clown. That beats everything!
Me of all people, always one to watch his step, and his tongue!
Notes
p.3, The Colonel is not ready: In English in the original text. Further occurrences have also been italicized.
p.4, des Entrayes: An overbearing general in Céline’s first novel Journey to the End of the Night.
p.17, One wealve embryoun: Presumably the Colonel, on top of his mispronunciation, is confusing the words “veal” and “calf”, and therefore he means something along the lines of “the membrane from one calf embryo”.
p.30, The Mysteries of New York: The French title of the 1914 murder-mystery film serial The Exploits of Elaine, starring Pearl White.
p.63, des Pereires: The eccentric inventor who takes the young Ferdinand under his wing in the second half of Death on Credit.
p.98, Creusot: A reference to the famous giant steam hammer built in the industrial town of Le Creusot in Burgundy.
p.100, the great magnificent Joffre… Lady of the Camellias: Marshal Joseph Joffre (1852–1931) was the French general who notably led the Allied forces to victory in the First Battle of the Marne in 1914. The French actress Sarah Bernhardt (1844–1923) was the greatest stage and screen star of her age. One of her most famous roles was that of the protagonist of The Lady of the Camellias, the theatre adaptation of the 1848 novel by Alexandre Dumas fils (1824–95).
p.127, Nick Carter: A prolific series of dime novels and subsequent movies featuring the eponymous private detective Nick Carter.
p.146, Suzette’s Week: A French magazine for girls which ran throughout the first half of the twentieth century.
p.168, Max Linder… Suzanne Grandais: Max Linder (1883–1925), Pearl White (1889–1938) and Suzanne Grandais (1893–1920) were well-known film stars of the silent era. Judex was the caped hero of several films by Louis Feuillade and Arthur Bernède.
p.168, Basil Hallam, Ethel: Basil Hallam (1889–1916) was an English stage actor and singer. Ethel Levey (1880–1955) was a successful Broadway actress.
p.168, Gloria Day: There appears to have been no actress of that name in that period.
p.168, Gaby Deslys: Gaby Deslys (1881–1920) was a French actress, singer and dancer.
p.169, Harry Pilcer’s dancer: The dancer Harry Pilcer (1885–1961) was Gaby Deslys’s partner.
p.169, Ober… Kellner, schnell! Schnell!: “Waiter… Waiter, quick! Quick!” (German).
p.227, Zeelands: Soldiers from New Zealand who fought alongside British troops.
p.231, Ellen Terry… Keats: Ellen Terry (1847–1928) was the leading English stage actress of her time. The Keats referred to here, presumably an actor, is unknown.
p.251, Robert-Houdin: Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin (1805–71) was an groundbreaking French illusionist.
p.266, Lord Curzon: Lord Curzon (1859–1925) was the Viceroy of India and a member of Arthur Lloyd George’s war cabinet.
p.280, just like Soleilland: The French cabinet-maker Albert Soleilland (1881–1920) was found guilty of the rape and murder of an eleven-year-old girl in 1907. He was sentenced to death and then pardoned by the President, spending his final years in a penal colony.
p.303, Harrows: Harrow is an area of north-west London, but perhaps Céline is thinking of the Harrods department store.
p.320, Triboulet: Triboulet (1479–1536) was a jester in the courts of Louis XII and Francis I of France, whose name became a byword for his occupation.
p.334, Fantômas: The fictional villain of a series of novels by Marcel Allain (1885–1969) and Pierre Souvestre (1874–1914), and subsequent screen adaptations.
p.341, Little Tich… General Booth: Little Tich (1867–1928) was a diminutive English music-hall performer. Lionel Barrymore (1878–1954) was a famous American stage and screen actor. Sir John Isaac Thornycroft (1843–1928) was a British shipbuilder and entrepreneur and William Booth (1829–1912) was a the founder of the Salvation Army and its first General.
p.343, Fregoli: Leopoldo Fregoli (1867–1936) was a famous Italian actor.
p.361, Passepartout: The name of Phileas Fogg’s servant in Around the World in Eighty Days (1873) by Jules Verne (1828–1905).
p.427, Hear Macbeth… and the dead: Slightly misquoted from Macbeth, Act ii, Sc. 2, 52–54.
p.431, Macbeth… to parley: Slightly misquoted from Macbeth, Act ii, Sc. 3, 86–87.
p.433, Infectious minds… discharge their secrets: Slightly misquoted from Macbeth, Act v, Sc. 1, 50–51.
p.433, Out damned spot: Macbeth, Act v, Sc. 1, 39.
p.442,
Récamier: Probably a reference to Madame Récamier (1777–1849), who ran an influential Paris salon and was Chateaubriand’s lover.
p.457, Seyton: Macbeth’s loyal lieutenant and servant. The following quotation, however, is not from Shakespeare’s play.
p.458, At one the benefit… of watching: Macbeth, Act v, Sc. 1, 10–12.
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