"Stop! I get it," Esther said as she draped herself in the bedspread.
"You don't want me to read the rest? Well, thank you, Esther. That saves me precious time."
Revere hadn't moved since he came into the room. He was leaning against the back of a chair, watching. Finally, his eyes on Esther, he said:
"You really are disgusting!"
Mrs. Labrique bridled. "Mr. Commissioner, you're a witness: one of your men insulted me!"
"Really? I didn't hear anything. My mind must have been on something else. But it would surprise me; Mr. Revere is well known for his courtesy and good breeding—which are not commonplace in our profession, believe me. I chose him to accompany me out of consideration for you. Had I brought his colleague Payne, dear Esther, he would have called you the whore of all time."
"Are you going to insult me too!"
"I didn't say anything. I was only quoting what Inspector Payne might have said. . . . It's not for me to judge. That will be up to the courts. Good-bye, dear Esther. You haven't paid us a visit for a long time. We'd be delighted to see you. . . ."
Baudruche motioned Revere to go. Before leaving, he glanced around the room. The remains of a meal were scattered on a table—a dirty glass, a half-empty bottle of red wine, a few gnawed bones. Esther's lover had had a little feast.
He closed the door behind him. Payne came down off his roof and the three men walked away together. Revere was still stunned, but not Payne.
"I used to see a lot of that in the villages. The rats will do anything."
Baudruche paid them little attention, for he was tasting the sweetness of his triumph. But as they approached the Hotel, he remembered that Elisa had called that morning when he was too busy to talk with her. "She shall have the benefit of my good humor," he said to himself as he climbed the Hotel steps.
He could hear her singing in her room. As he opened the door, he saw that her face was transfigured, her eyes languid, her bearing soft and yielding.
"You look very happy, Elisa."
"I don't know what's the matter with me, Mr. Commissioner, but I've been so happy ever since last night!"
At last! This time she must have really brought it off. That would end Emil Poulet's smug pretensions.
"Elisa, I hope you didn't ask me to come just to hear how happy you were."
She answered "yes" because it was all she had in her head. But Baudruche was so pleased with his two little triumphs that he took out his wallet and counted out a few bills. She took them absentmindedly.
"Oh, that's right. I'm out of money. It completely slipped my mind."
"It's more serious than I thought," Baudruche said to him-self. He was about to go when Elisa clapped her hands: she had just remembered why she'd called the Commissioner.
"I wanted to tell you there's a rat in my bathroom."
"What did you say?"
"I said 'a rat.' Don't look at me like that. I thought you'd be grateful."
"Where did it come from?"
She laughed. "My bed!"
Baudruche was nonplussed: was this striking transformation in Elisa the work of a rat and not of the last refugee? Were the rats about to find their way into all the beds in the City?
"Do you know what you are saying?"
"Yes, but I can see it doesn't please you."
"You were capable of permitting it in your room, in your bed, without throwing up . . ,"
Elisa clapped her hands again and giggled.
"I had nothing to do with it; it was your man in twenty-three. He put the rat in my room, with Posey's help."
Baudruche felt he was going mad. The man in room 23, the last refugee for whom he had harbored such esteem, and that girl Posey who attracted him for all her familiar ways, those two were party to this abomination! It was hard to believe. But Elisa was much too stupid to dream up such a thing. He stood up.
"I don't believe you. I have to see for myself. If it's there, it'll be the man's tough luck. I'll make him pay for both of you. That makes two rats killed in this Hotel."
He opened the door to the bathroom, turned on the light, but saw nothing. That displeased him even more, for it began to look as if Elisa were pulling his leg.
"I find this joke in very bad taste. I would like you to apologize immediately."
Utterly confused, Elisa got to her feet.
"I don't believe it! He can't have gotten out. I haven't been out of my room."
She went into the bathroom and called out:
"He's there, right on the chair. I forgot to tell you he was wrapped up."
Of course! What a dope he was not to realize it was the rat Posey had killed in the hall outside. He went into the bathroom and came out with the package under his arm.
"My compliments, Elisa. That was a splendid piece of work. Do you happen to know where the corpse has been these last few days? Has anybody else seen it?"
She knew nothing; she hadn't given it a thought. No, wait a minute: her lover had told her that he'd kept it in a drawer of his bureau. The Commissioner looked very pleased, and as he was leaving, he remembered his promise. He put the package down on a chair and took out his wallet again. Once he'd gone, Elisa looked at the money wide-eyed. So much money and so much happiness in twenty-four hours! She opened her closet and stood deep in thought.
Which dress would he like best?
Baudruche ran down the stairs and into the street. He was in a hurry to get rid of the compromising parcel; the smell was beginning to seep through the several layers of newspaper. The moment he reached his home, he went down to the cellar and threw the package into the furnace.
"Too bad I can't do that with all of them!"
He climbed the stairs, a smile on his lips. A good job well done. He couldn't wait to share his news with Martha: two misfortunes involving two people he heartily disliked! Martha was delighted at the sight of him rubbing his hands in anticipation.
"Am I right in thinking that something good has happened?"
"Two things, Martha. First, Labrique is a cuckold."
Martha sighed. "It doesn't surprise me. I've suspected it for a long time."
"I was certain of it, but I had no clear proof. Now I have. Do you know who the happy beneficiary is?"
"No, and I don't care. Such things don't interest me."
"Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. It's a rat."
Martha screamed, "I don't believe it!"
"I saw it with my own eyes and I can tell you it wasn't a pretty sight. . . . What a couple!"
Now Martha wanted to know everything down to the last detail. She interrupted him only to say an occasional, "I don't believe it," "It can't be," and finally, "So Esther has come to this!"
"You may think it's funny, Robert, but I don't. What's your other news?"
"Same general idea. Emil Poulet is a cuckold."
That was unexpected. Martha frowned, then to Baudruche's great surprise, she suddenly brightened. So her husband wasn't the other man!
"Who is the guilty party this time?"
"The man in the Hotel, the last refugee. I knew he'd do something good for the City."
"Aren't you ashamed, Robert? I bet you were in there pulling strings the whole time."
He didn't deny it; he was proud of it. He had killed two birds with one stone, making common cause of the City's interest and his private grudges.
"You know, Martha, if he hadn't succeeded, I'd almost decided to do the job myself."
Baudruche was disappointed in Martha: he had expected her to sail into him, but instead she sat there with a wide smile on her face. Women were incomprehensible! Then it suddenly dawned on him: What a fool he was! Of course, like everybody else, she had imagined . . .
They had just started to eat when the door flew open. Labrique walked in, his arms raised to the skies.
"This time, Esther has really gone mad."
Martha kept her nose in her plate and said nothing. Her husband remarked innocently, "That's nothing new, old boy."<
br />
"Never like this. When I got home, the whole house was turned upside down. She'd broken everything. Things I really cared about. . . . But I guess I was lucky: it was either them or me. She told me some story about a writ of adultery that I'd been coward enough to dream up, when actually I'd abandoned her years ago, that I'd never understood her . . . and the usual crap. But what's all this about a writ of adultery?"
"She didn't make it up, Labrique. I have the proof. It's here in my pocket."
"You're joking."
"I am not. You signed over power of attorney to me yesterday. I took care of the matter right away. I'll read it to you. . . . But you don't know the best part! Do you know who her new lover is?"
"I don't give a damn."
"It's a rat, my friend. It is my privilege to inform you . . ."
Labrique was silent.
Baudruche continued: "I hope you make good use of that piece of paper. It could cause a nice little scandal. It might wake up public opinion. . . ."
Labrique refused. He wanted no trouble, no publicity. He wanted peace. Baudruche tried to reason with him, threatened, pleaded, but to no avail.
"Are you going to spoil the whole thing? It could be very important for the City. I went to a lot of trouble to bring this off. . . ."
"Look, Baudruche. Put yourself in my place."
"I'd love to. I'd make myself useful."
"And I don't like the way you got that power of attorney out of me. That was cheating."
"You taught me how."
"Not about that kind of thing."
He ate little and left. He must start reorganizing his life.
When he'd gone, Baudruche looked at Martha. "Nobody wants to help me. I don't understand Labrique. The one time he could be useful to me . . ."
"I think Labrique is absolutely right, Robert."
This made Baudruche furious. Only a woman would react that way. They were all mad, all of them. . . .
Certainly, Elisa gave that impression as she sat down in the restaurant. She had taken a table near the entrance so that her lover couldn't help seeing her. He had barely put a toe in the room when she waved her arm and called out, "Yoohoo!" She had already presumed to order both their meals.
Elisa spent the meal displaying herself, her lover and her happiness to the restaurant's appreciative clientele and personnel. The good news spread through the Hotel, from Baidroume to the assistant dishwasher. There was no longer any doubt about it: the Commissioner had indeed been betrayed by his mistress.
Passing from ear to ear, the news spread to the nearby shops and fanned out to the boutiques on Prefect Avenue. Everybody was of the same mind—cooks, maids, valets, shopkeepers: the man in 26 had made up for their impotence and mediocrity, and they rejoiced that Elisa had consented in his effort.
As soon as lunch was finished, Elisa led him outside. She wanted to show him off, outside the Hotel as well as in. They walked up Prefect Avenue to Linon Taffeta's and bought two dresses and three pairs of shoes. Her lover paid the bill. When they left the shop, she begged him to buy her a bouquet of violets from a street vendor. To her dismay, he left her as soon as the flowers were in her hands. He was in a hurry; he had better things to do than go from store to store. She watched him go with a heavy heart. What was the good of being happy if he was going to leave her like that!
As Baudruche approached the ex-Social Progress, he noticed a moving van parked in front of the building next door. A team of rats was hurriedly transferring furniture and objects through the doors and windows of the ground-floor apartment into the van. Baudruche asked what was going on. The people standing around told him that an elderly couple named Seculat was turning over their apartment to the embassy next door. "It may not be much fun for them, but the others need room too. That's what the newspaper says. . . ." Baudruche interrogated the Seculats. Yes, it was all right with them. They'd been given to understand, at first gently, then in no uncertain terms, that it would be to their best interest to move . . . they'd find it quieter elsewhere.
Baudruche offered to have his men empty the van and put everything back in place. They looked frightened and wouldn't reply. He even promised to see that their house was guarded, but they said no. They were very grateful to the Commissioner, but things were all right as they were.
The President greeted him at the door of the former café.
"Isn't it a splendid example of social solidarity, Mr. Commissioner! Imagine: the Seculats anticipated our needs! They offered to give up their apartment so that we could have more room. We tried to argue with them, but they insisted. So, to show our gratitude and not be in their debt, we offered to help them move."
Baudruche shoved the President into his office. He was anxious to express his thoughts.
"I warn you that I will not tolerate the City's inhabitants being moved out of their homes so that you can take them over."
The President raised his hands.
"Mr. High Commissioner, it disturbs me as much as you. We want to make ourselves as small as possible, not to be noticed. It's no one's fault. I'm sure that everybody—and you in particular, Mr. Commissioner—is doing everything in his power, but where is our building? Nothing has happened. We've received nothing but promises."
"We're doing all we can."
"I'm sure you are, but we can't wait forever. We suffocate here, and obviously if another windfall comes our way, we can't be criticized for taking advantage of it."
Baudruche swallowed hard.
"Are you sure of your new architect's competence, Mr. Commissioner?"
"I'll answer for him."
"Then there's nothing more to say. By the way, our new newspaper is about to appear, thanks to your kindness and understanding. There's just one small detail: we lack qualified typesetters. Mr. Canard tells me that it shouldn't be difficult to find a good supply among the City's inhabitants. I would guess that those employed by the defunct Independent have not been able to find suitable jobs. Why not reassemble the group and give them work worthy of their skills? What do you say, Mr. Commissioner?"
"They'll have to be paid."
"Of course."
"Do you have the money?"
"You know perfectly well we don't, Mr. Commissioner. We're as poor as Job on his dung heap. But what is your Ministry of Cultural Propaganda for? It must cost you a pretty penny: why not turn it to some use? I know the Prefect will understand. Don't you concern yourself with such trifles."
Brimming over with charm, the President accompanied him to the door.
"We inaugurate our new quarters tomorrow, Mr. Commissioner. Mr. Canard has agreed to be on hand, and if you would do us the honor, we would be very proud. . . ."
"I won't have time," Baudruche said and hurried off.
The President caught up with him and whispered, "I forgot to tell you the name of our new paper, Mr. Commissioner. We're going to call it The Rodent."
Baudruche hurried to the Factory where he found Leponte deep in calculations:
"We have to get help from the Prefect, Mr. Commissioner. Our productivity's rise was three point twenty-five percent, as stipulated in the plan. But now we have to increase sales by the same amount. There's only one way: by advertising. I beg you to ask the Prefect to put the screws on the Ministry of Industrial Expansion so that we can get some money. We must shake the population out of its apathy. They've got to understand that they cannot forgo buying the new model. It's a question of both patriotism and personal status. The campaign's got to be a success or I won't answer for the consequences."
Baudruche shrugged his shoulders and left.
Elisa was just beginning to doze when the telephone rang. It was Martha.
Martha wanted to see her right away. She reproached Elisa for abandoning Sophie and since it was a school holiday . . . Elisa yawned and got up. Why wouldn't people leave her to her happiness?
Elisa arrived at the Bauduches' home, looking more elegant and more beautiful than ever. Love and clothes . . . that's
what she was made for. The two women pecked each other on the cheek. They gossiped, and Martha commented on the strange things that were going on. "For instance, Elisa—and don't breathe a word of it to anybody—you know Esther, the architect's wife? . . . She was caught with a rat. . . ."
"I don't believe it, Martha! Can you really do it with a rat?"
They were in the middle of an animated discussion when Sophie walked in.
Martha changed the subject. "Elisa, why don't you take the child for a walk. She needs fresh air, shut up all day in school. . . ."
The idea had little appeal for Elisa. She was worried about being seen with a ten-year-old which would add years to her age at the very moment when she had managed to slough them off. But she gave in, vowing that the walk would be short and the conversation carefully controlled. Then, what was her luck but to run into the very man she most dreaded meeting!
"You didn't tell me you had a daughter?"
"Oh, I had her when I was very young—barely eighteen [a net gain of two years], and besides, I didn't think you'd be interested."
On the contrary, her lover was very interested. He walked along at Sophie's side and encouraged her to talk. Then he insisted she go to the Hotel with him, over Elisa's protests. He asked them up to his room. It made Elisa uncomfortable to see her daughter in room 23.
"Sophie, do you know what this is?"
"No, sir."
"Then listen."
He put the flute to his lips and Sophie heard a strange, piercing yet agreeable sound. The stranger put the instrument back in its case. So children could still hear what most men and many women couldn't any longer? He looked at his watch and got up.
"I must go."
His eyes rested on Sophie. Why not, since children seemed to understand?
"Come, Sophie. Let's go for a walk."
They went out, leaving Elisa alone in room 23. She felt quite at home here and why not? Didn't she have some rights to it? So she opened closets, drawers, cupboards, feeling ever so lightly in the pockets. Everything was neat and tidy. Then she found a large suitcase in the bathroom. She couldn't get it open so she shook it. It sounded like paper inside. Too bad it was locked. It was probably letters. Disappointed, she left.
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