"Is it going all right, Mr. Commissioner?"
"I'd say so . . . if it lasts. Have you seen any of the Prefect's men?"
"Yes, several, but they all left."
Some of the men who had latched on tired of following this bizarre procession. They understood neither its purpose nor its goal. Where were these kids going, trailing after that nut? What was the Commissioner doing in the middle of this carnival?
The rats' patrol was disturbed by the sight of the procession but kept out of its way. It was too well guarded.
The endless column headed toward the northern part of the City, filed down all the major arteries, turned east and rejoined Prefect Avenue. Hanging from their windows, some laughed, others looked alarmed. Had the City gone mad?
The column of children had reached the area of the Factory. They had difficulty getting through the mob obstructing the narrow streets where the flea market was in progress. Baudruche's men cleared a path as the man kept blowing on his instrument. Baudruche prodded the man with the flute.
"Let's move on. It's no good here."
The procession moved on, a crowd of rats in its wake. Suddenly the siren went off at the Prefecture. Baudruche looked at his watch: it was closing time at the Factory.
"Get moving!" Baudruche shouted from the curb, motioning his men to go faster.
The Commissioner was getting anxious. He moved to the end of the line, turning frequently to gauge the size of the crowd following behind. A group of ugly-looking rats were in the lead, and behind them, the workers from the Factory drawn by a mixture of fear and curiosity.
They finally reached the main gate. Baudruche ran to the head of the line and ordered the guards to open the gates. The crowd began to mill around. It had just dawned on the rats and the City's inhabitants what was happening. They rushed to the gates to prevent anyone from passing through.
Baudruche gave three blows on his whistle. His men went into action and charged on the rats and inhabitants obstructing the gates. Baudruche ran to the top of the ramparts to observe the scene. As far as the eye could see, Prefect Avenue was jammed with people. At the farthest end, he could just make out gray shapes moving in the clouds of dust. Dominating everything was the tower of the Prefecture whose eye had just been lit.
At his feet, fights had started to break out. He could hear screams of pain and anger. He was proud of his men; they were doing a good job. The noise abated and gradually stopped altogether. People were fleeing in all directions. As the dust began to settle, he could see the gleam of his men's helmets and the long column of children resuming their march.
The women who had accompanied the children now climbed the stairs and lined up on either side of Baudruche along the sentry walk. Clinging as best they could to what remained of the parapet, they sat with legs dangling over the side, looking straight ahead. Suddenly there was a great commotion. The mob of rats and inhabitants who had regrouped in the distance let out a roar when they saw the children start through the gates. Forgetting their fear of the plain, a group of them massed outside the gates, closing off the exit.
The soldier had gotten up to watch the scene. Baudruche gave the signal; he picked up his rifle, shouldered his bag and equipment and walked up to the gate. A great cry went up:
"They're here! They've come back!"
The crowd fell back, knocking over the children as they fled. The soldier continued walking slowly forward, the crowd melting before him. Baudruche saw him go through the gate, then he turned to watch the other side; the soldier headed up Prefect Avenue.
The children regrouped. Again, the man with the flute put the instrument to his lips and, slightly in the lead, approached the main gate.
From the top of the ramparts, Baudruche watched the man with the flute come out of the other side of the gates, the children behind him in tight ranks. The long column trailed off into the distance. Shouting with joy, the women waved handkerchiefs and scarves at the retreating children. The band of light still shining on the horizon started to spread over the sky. Baudruche had to blink his eyes. The light crept over the plain until it reached the blackened ramparts. Clouds churned on the horizon and advanced toward the City in great billows. Baudruche put on his glasses. Now he could see flocks of birds circling over the heads of the children. Dipping and wheeling, they accompanied the column as far as the eye could see, then they all disappeared into the horizon and the light went out. A vast silence fell on the plain and the ramparts. The women's joy subsided. They were crying now, and filed past Baudruche toward the stairs. The Commissioner was left alone. He tried to distinguish the burned-out vestiges of the nearest villages, but he could see nothing. His eyes smarted. It wasn't emotion, of course; probably the sunshine of a moment ago. He walked down the stairs.
His men surrounded him, not daring to speak, torn between joy at their success and the fear of having done something wrong. The Commissioner's eyes were fixed on the ground. Bodies of rats lay scattered about in the dust, the ants already feasting on them. Baudruche called out to the guards:
"Close the gates!"
He blew on his whistle to summon his men. Three abreast with Baudruche in the lead, they started up Prefect Avenue.
Far away, in the northern part of town, an armed man pushed open the door of an office marked "Demobilization." A solitary official occupied the office. At the sight of the soldier, he jumped to his feet.
"You've come at last! We were waiting for you so we could close down."
Elisa had been drawn into the crowd heading toward the main gate. As she watched the children, she suddenly remembered Sophie. She ran to a telephone and called Martha.
"Is Sophie with you?"
"No, my dear, she left with the others."
"Where have they gone?"
"Away."
Elisa stormed and ranted, cursing the Commissioner. Martha hung up. It wasn't so much that Elisa minded being separated from her childshe was a stranger to her at best—but she had it in for Baudruche. He had spoiled everything. He had allowed her a glimpse of another life and had thrown her into the arms of a nobody, without money, and mad besides. And this man had left her like a cad, without a word of farewell, without a present, without taking his baggage—except for his stupid instrument. Was it possible he might have left something of value in his room? She dashed down the stairs and into the empty lobby. The key to room 23 was hanging on its hook. She took it, ran back up the stairs and opened the door. Everything seemed to be in place. She looked through all his drawers but found nothing of value—only papers and some books. She rummaged through his closet but it contained only useless men's clothing. She went into the bathroom. Nothing remotely interesting except for a bottle of eau de cologne—half empty—which she tucked under her arm. Then she saw the green suitcase she had never managed to open, still standing in its corner. She picked it up and took it with her.
Back in her room, she tried to force the lock but to no avail. She took a pair of strong scissors and started snipping at the stitching. When she finally got it open, she almost fell over backward. Never in her life had she dared dream of so much money. She couldn't believe her eyes. What a miser, offering her only junk when he had all this!
She stuffed a handful of bills into her bag, locked the suitcase in her closet and slipped the key inside her blouse. She looked at her watch. There was still time; the luxury shops on Prefect Avenue wouldn't be closed yet. Night had fallen and the streetlights barely penetrated the swirling dust. She ran to the jewelry shop.
"I want the ring in the window." She pointed to the most expensive one she saw.
She paid up very nonchalantly, shuffling her wad of bills under the shopkeeper's astonished gaze. Once outside, she stopped by the shop window to let the light play on the ring on her finger. A rat who was passing by stooped to pick up something at her feet. Frightened, she walked quickly away. The rat followed. She ran. He ran, stopping to stoop down from time to time. Suddenly she noticed that her handbag was open and the
bills were scattering behind her. The Hotel was now but a few steps away. She ran even faster. A hand grabbed her leg and she fell headfirst in the dust. The rat pressed his knee to her back and snatched her bag. He let out two shrill whistles; two rats ran up. Elisa felt herself being seized, lifted up off the ground and carried away. She tried to cry out but a hand had closed over her mouth.
"Free your prisoners, Miss Bourrot, and let's get down to work!
"Mr. Prefect:
"During the course of the night, my agent at the Hotel advised me that the last refugee was making plans that could well disturb the City's peace. I summoned all my men to prepare for any eventuality.
"I encountered the stranger as he was leaving the Hotel. He started to play his instrument on Prefect Avenue. To my great surprise, children poured out of all the neighboring houses and joined him. When I saw how large the crowd was growing, I had my men surround the children so that their demonstration could not disturb the peace. I took no measures against the man since there is no regulation forbidding the playing of a flute on City streets.
"The only regulation that could be invoked concerned the flow of traffic. Therefore I made certain that wherever the procession went, space was left for traffic.
"During the course of the day, the procession filed down every street in the City, growing all the while. When it reached the main gates, the stranger indicated a desire to leave the City, as did all the children following him. Since no regulation forbade it, I ordered the doors opened. A crowd of rats and City inhabitants who had been following us tried to stand in the way.
"I ordered my men to intervene in order to protect the rights of City inhabitants. I am sure you will be gratified to know, Mr. Prefect, that they were successful in their mission and that the stranger and the children were permitted to carry out their desire to leave the City.
"You will be no less gratified to learn that at that moment the soldier who sat so long in front of the main gates causing you such distress entered the City. I later learned that he went immediately to demobilization headquarters where he surrendered his weapon, uniform and equipment—all in perfect condition. He was issued civilian clothing, and has become a simple City inhabitant like any other.
"In closing, I wish to remark, Mr. Prefect, that during the whole of his stay in the City, the stranger scrupulously kept his word that he would violate no law or regulation in force in the City.
"With this report, which will be my last, I take the liberty of including my letter of resignation. My sole reason is the state of my health. For some time, I have been suffering palpitations and heart-burn which prohibit the normal exercise of my functions.
Miss Bourrot raised her head.
"It isn't true, Mr. Commissioner! You're not leaving us?"
"As I've told you before, Miss Bourrot, I don't like to be interrupted when I'm dictating. Continue please.
"The Weather Bureau predicts stable weather without sun due to the presence of clouds over the City. Sentry duties having been interrupted, I have nothing to report on what may have happened last night outside the City.
"Respectfully yours, etc.
"Well, that's done. What was it you wished to say to me?"
"You can't be serious, Mr. Commissioner. You must be joking about your resignation?"
"Have you ever caught me joking about the City's affairs? Good night, Miss Bourrot. Here is my office key. You will give it to my successor."
"Shall we play a hand, Labrique?"
"What's the use? You're stronger than I am now."
Small screeches penetrated through the door. Baudruche got up, put his ear to the door and recognized a sound he knew only too well—that of teeth gnawing on wood. He came back and picked up the andiron by the fireplace.
"The first one who enters . . ."
The Walled City Page 28