by Roberto Arlt
They walked along under the garden walls, and in the mellow dusk the pimp's words opened Erdosain up to gaping astonishment. He grasped he stood next to a life considerably unlike his own. Then he asked him:
"And how did you get into pimping?"
"It was when I was young. I was twenty-three and on the university faculty in math. I'm a professor, see," Haffner added proudly. "A math professor. I was living on my salary when one night in a whorehouse on Rincón Street I met this French girl that I liked. All this was about ten years ago. Just around then I came into about five thousand pesos when a relative died. I liked Lucienne, and I asked if she'd come live with me. She had a pimp, the Marseillais, a giant brute I saw now and then ... I don't know if it was my smooth talking or good looks, but anyway she fell in love with me and one stormy night I came and got her out of her house. It was straight out of a novel. We went to Córdoba in the mountains, then to Mar del Plata, and when we'd gone through the five thousand pesos, I told her: 'Well, that was our fling. It's all over now.' Then she told me, 'No, darling, we'll never again be apart.' "
Now they were strolling under clusters of greenery, intertwining branches, and clumps of stalks.
"I was jealous. Do you know what it's like to be jealous of a woman who sleeps with everyone? And do you know what it is when she pays for the first lunch with money from some john? Can you picture the joy of sitting there eating away with the waiter looking at you and knowing what the deal is with you? And the joy of walking out with her hanging from your arm and all the johns trying to get a look at you? And seeing that she prefers you, you alone, after she's been to bed with so many men? That's a sweet sensation, pal, once you get to make a career of it. And she's the one who recruits a second woman for your stable, brings her home and tells her 'We'll be sisters-in-law,' she's the one who keeps the new girl in hand and makes her turn everything over to you, and the more shy and squeamish you are, the more she likes to wreck your conscience, pulling you down to her level, and suddenly—when it's the last thing on your mind you find you're up to your ears in slime—and then there's no way back out. And while you have the woman going you have to work her hard, because one day she'll dump you, go crazy over another guy, and in the same blind way she took to you, she'll give everything up for him. You'll ask me, what does a woman need to have a man for? But I'll tell you: nobody's going to deal direct with a woman he wants for his whorehouse. He wants to go through her 'marlu.' The pimp takes care of business so the woman can get on with it in peace. Johns don't harass her. If she's busted, he bails her out, if she's sick, he gets her to the doctor and gets her fixed up, and he generally keeps her out of trouble and all kinds of really useful stuff. Look, if a woman goes it alone she's just asking for a beating or some kind of con or anyway something will happen to her. But if a woman has a man, she just does what she does, and nobody's about to mess with her and they all have to respect her. And since it was her decision to earn it that way, it follows she should be free to spend her money on something that will give her the security she needs.
"Of course, it all sounds new to you, but you'll catch on. And if not, tell me this: how do you explain away the pimp who has up to seven women? Old Repollo once had eleven in his stable at his peak. Julio the Galician had eight. Most all Frenchmen have three. And they get to be friends, they live in peace and each tries to bring in more than the others, since it's a big deal to be the favorite of some dude who can make mobsters cool it with a single glance. And, poor things, they're all so crazy you don't know whether to feel sorry for them or sock it to them good."
Erdosain was overwhelmed by the massive contempt the man had for all women. And he remembered another time when the Astrologer told him: "The Melancholy Ruffian is a guy who sees a woman and right away he's thinking, 'She'd bring in five, ten, twenty pesos on the street.' That's it for him."
Now Erdosain felt revolted by the man. Trying to switch the conversation around, he said:
"Answer me this: Do you believe the Astrologer's plan can work?"
"No."
"Does he know you don't think so?"
"Sure."
"Well then, what are you in it for?"
"I'm in it only more or less, and even that much just from boredom. Life has no meaning, so it's about the same to go off wherever it takes you."
"So for you life has no meaning?"
"Not the least bit. We get born, live, die, without the stars stopping in their tracks or the ants stopping work over it."
"And are you very bored?"
"Average. I have my day compartmentalized like an industrialist. Every day I go to bed at twelve and get up at nine in the morning, do an hour of exercises, take a bath, read the papers, eat lunch, take a nap, at six I have a glass of vermouth, go to the barber, eat dinner at eight, then I go out on the town a bit, and in a couple of years when I'll have gotten two hundred thousand pesos together, then I'll retire and live off dividends and what I've got set up."
"And what's your real part in the Astrologer's group?"
"If the Astrologer can get up the money, I'll help get the women and get the brothels going."
"But what's your deep-down, private opinion of the Astrologer?"
"One of those madmen who just might pull it off, or maybe not."
"But his ideas—"
"Some are a mess, others make sense, and really I don't know what the guy's shooting for. Sometimes it seems like I'm listening to a reactionary, sometimes a leftist and, to tell the truth, I don't think he himself knows what he wants."
"What if he pulls it off?"
"Then God knows what all might happen. Oh, by the way, did you talk to him about growing an Asian cholera bacillus?"
"Yes ... it would be a terrific weapon to unleash on the army. Just let one culture loose in each barracks. See? Thirty or forty men could destroy the army in one action and then let the proletarian masses make revolution—"
"The Astrologer really admires you a lot. He always talks about you to me like you're somebody who could really have a big success."
Erdosain smiled, flattered:
"Yes, you have to work on some project to sabotage the present system. But about this other thing, what I can't figure out is what your relationship to us is."
Haffner turned around quickly, sized Erdosain up with a cold eye, then, with a smirk, he answered:
"I'm not in any relationship. Understand me good. I have nothing to lose helping the Astrologer. The rest, his theories, for me it's just some talk, see. He's just a friend of mine who wants to get set up in a business, one that even comes under the law, and that's it for me. Now, the money he gets out of it he can use to start a conspiracy or a convent full of nuns, it's nothing to me personally. So, see, my part in this big underground society of his couldn't be more innocent."
"And to you it makes sense that a revolutionary group should live off the exploitation of women?"
The Ruffian glowered. Then, giving Erdosain only a sidelong glance, he explained:
"That's a lot of nonsense. The way the system works now, we exploit men, women, and children all the time. If you want to see real exploitation in this capitalist setup, just go look at the foundries down on Avellaneda, the meat packers, the glassworks, tobacco and match factories." He let out a nasty laugh to go with these remarks. "We, the men who play these games, maybe we have one or two women, but an industrialist has a whole mass of human beings. So what do you call a guy like that? Who's inhuman, someone who has a whorehouse or the stockholders of a company? And, not to get into this business of yours, but didn't they say you should keep honest and pay you a hundred pesos to carry around ten thousand pesos in your billfold?"
"You're right... but then, why did you let me have the money?"
"Well, that's a whole different story."
"But it keeps bothering me."
"Okay, well, see you later."
And before Erdosain could answer, the Ruffian was already off down a tree-lined path. He was walking o
ff fast. Erdosain looked at him, and then rushed to catch up with him next to an old house. Haffner wheeled around, irritated, and burst out:
"Would you mind telling me what it is you want?"
"What do I want? ... I want you to know one thing, see, that I'm not the least bit grateful for the money you gave me. You know? You want your check? Here, take it."
And he pushed it right at him, but then the Ruffian looked at him, this time with total contempt.
"Don't be silly, okay? Go pay up."
Erdosain was seeing the fence like a series of waves. He was obviously not doing very well and turned so pale he was practically yellow. He leaned on a post, sure he was going to throw up any moment now. Haffner, standing in front of him, asked condescendingly:
"Feeling better, now?"
"Yes ... a little ..."
"You're not in good shape ... you should go see a doctor."
They walked on a few steps in silence. The light bothered Erdosain's eyes, so they took a path that lay more in shade. They followed it to the train station. Haffner walked slowly through the station. Suddenly he wheeled and asked Erdosain:
"Have you ever had the urge to be cruel to people?"
"Yes, sometimes ..."
"That's odd ... because just now I was thinking about this idea I had a while ago, the idea of having a blind girl to offer my clients ..."
"Is she still alive?"
"Oh yes, and now she's pregnant. See? Blind and pregnant. I'll take you to see her someday. You can meet her. It really is a strange thing, so be prepared for something strong. See? Blind and pregnant. Oh, she's a wild one, wanders around with needles in her hands ... besides which she eats like a pig. You'll find it very interesting."
"And you're going to—"
"Right, as soon as the Astrologer gets the whorehouse set up, she'll be our number one girl. We'll keep her on ice and bring her out as the exotic spécialité de la maison."
"You're more exotic than she is, you know?"
"How's that?"
"Because you defy explanation. While you were telling me about that blind girl, I was thinking of something the Astrologer told me. You took up with a really pure woman and even when she was right in your house you didn't lay a hand on her. Let me ask you this one thing: if that woman was in love with you and she was a virgin, why did you leave her alone?"
"No big deal. A little self-control, is all."
"What about the necklace story?"
Erdosain had heard this story from the Astrologer, that the Ruffian once asked a dancer for concrete proof she loved him, so with other women watching she took off a magnificent necklace given to her by a lover, an elderly yard-goods importer. It was bizarre, since the old man was sitting nearby. Haffner took the necklace and, to everyone's shock, hefted it jeweler-style, cast an appraising eye on it, then handed it back with a snide smirk.
"That necklace story is easily explained," Haffner answered. "I was a little drunk. But even so I knew my little bit of theater would really raise me in the eyes of that cabaret scum, especially the women, they're all pushovers for that dashing stuff. What's so odd is half an hour later the old guy who gave Renée the necklace came to thank me humbly for not accepting the gift. See? He'd been watching the whole thing from another table and the only reason he didn't do anything about it was he didn't want to make a scene. But the whole time he was quaking in his boots, worried sick about his necklace ... well, you see what a sordid business it all was ... but here's the train for La Plata. See you soon, pal—Ah! Be there for the meeting Wednesday at the Astrologer's house. You'll find other people even more bizarre than me."
Erdosain went over to where the trains left for Buenos Aires. It was clear in his mind that Haffner was a monster.
The Humiliated Man
He got home at eight that night.
"The dining-room light was on ... But, in point of fact," as Erdosain was to tell it later, "my wife and I were so dirt poor that our so-called dining room was an unfurnished room. The other room was the bedroom. You may wonder why, if we were so poor, we could rent a house, but my wife had this notion, since she'd known better days she couldn't bear to just 'set up camp' somewhere.
"In the dining room the only furniture was a pine-wood table. In one corner our clothes hung from a wire, and another corner was taken up by a trunk with brass fittings, so it always seemed like we were about to take off for someplace else. Later, how often I've remembered how that cheap trunk always gave us that 'bon voyage' look, and it added to my misery when I was somebody who knew he could go to jail overnight.
"As I was saying, the dining-room light was on. When I opened the door, I stopped short. My wife was waiting for me, dressed to go out, sitting at the table. Her rosy little face had a veil down to her chin. To the right of her, by her feet, was a suitcase and on the other side of the table a man stood up when I came in, or rather, when I stood in the doorway paralyzed with shock.
"We were all frozen like that a second: The Captain on his feet, one hand on the table and the other on his sword hilt, my wife looking down and me in front of them, still with one hand on the door frame. Just that second's glimpse, but I'll never forget that man. He was a big guy, a big strapping jock in a green uniform. He looked away from my wife and his eyes were so very hard. I'm not exaggerating when I say he looked at me with insolence, as an inferior being. I kept my eyes on him. His big body went oddly with his little oval face, delicate slender nose, and tight-squeezed, prim little mouth. His chest bore the insignia of an air-force pilot.
"The first thing I said was:
" 'What's all this about?'
" 'Mr ... ,' then she felt ashamed and started differently. 'Remo,' she said, calling me by my name, 'Remo, I won't be living with you anymore.' "
Erdosain did not even have time to start shaking. The Captain spoke then:
"Your wife, whom I met a while ago—"
"And where did you meet her?"
"Why are you asking about this stuff?" Elsa cut in.
"Yes," the Captain objected. "Surely you can see that there are some things you just don't ask about..."
Erdosain turned red.
"Maybe you're right there ... sorry ..."
"And since you weren't making enough to support her ..."
Gripping the revolver butt in his pocket hard, Erdosain looked at the Captain. Then, involuntarily, he smiled thinking how he had nothing to fear, since he could kill him.
"I hardly think what I said is all that funny."
"No, no, I was smiling over a weird thought I just had.... So she told you that kind of thing?"
"Yes, and she also told me about how you were a genius, and in a bad way—"
"We've talked about your inventions—"
"Yes ... about your project to make metallized flowers."
"So why are you leaving, then?"
"I'm tired, Remo."
Erdosain felt fury scrunching his mouth into nasty words. He would have liked to insult her, but remembering the stranger could smash his face in, he held back his abuse and answered:
"You were always tired. At home, you were tired ... here ... there ... up in the mountains ... remember?"
Unsure how to answer him, Elsa looked at the floor.
"Tired ... how come you're so tired? All of you women are tired, and I don't see why ... but anyway you're tired ... You, Captain, aren't you tired, too?"
The stranger looked at him for some time.
"When you say tired, how do you mean?"
"From boredom, from unhappiness. Haven't you noticed that these seem to be the times of tribulation that the Bible speaks of? That's what a friend of mine says, a guy who married a lame whore. The lame woman is the Whore of whom the Scriptures tell us—"
"I never knew that was so."
"Ah, well, I did. It may seem odd for me to be talking about suffering under these circumstances, but that's how it goes ... men are in such a bad way that they need someone to humiliate them."
&nbs
p; "I see nothing of the sort."
"Of course not, considering how much you make ... How much do you make? Fifteen hundred?"
"Somewhere around there."
"Making that much it's only logical..."
"What's only logical?"
"That you shouldn't feel like a slave."
The Captain was glowering at Erdosain.
"Germán, don't pay him any mind," Elsa cut in. "Remo's always going on about unhappiness."
"Is that so?"
"Yes ... but her, she believes in happiness. In the feeling of 'perpetual bliss' that would descend on her life if she could spend her days going to parties."
"I detest unhappiness."
"Well, sure, since you don't believe in unhappiness ... the horrible thing gnawing away inside of us, inner unhappiness ... a soul-deep thing that worms deep into our bones like syphilis ..."
They fell silent. The Captain, obviously bored, looked at his nails, buffed to a shine.
Elsa looked out fixedly from behind the rhombus pattern veil, at the gaunt face of the husband she had once loved so much, while Erdosain wondered why he should be one huge vacuum on the inside, a vacuum in which his consciousness dissolved, finding no words that might howl out his pain to eternity.
The Captain looked up suddenly.
"And how do you plan to metal-coat your flowers?"
"Simple ... Take a rose, for example, and dip it in a solution of silver nitrate dissolved in alcohol. Then you put the flower under a light that reduces the nitrate to metallic silver, which leaves the rose covered with a fine metal film, a good conductor of current. Then it's treated by the usual coppering process, galvanoplastic plating technique ... and, of course, at the end of it you have your rose turned into a copper rose. It would be really useful in a lot of ways."