by Unknown
withdrawn from his own body so as not to have any contact with the sleep ing thing it had become. So he would continually say: 'Nothing can stop me, soon I will tell.' Whom would he tell? I thought he had in mind some tenant or other, or perhaps, at worst, an employee. He was already long past that. From that moment on, he stalked around the maidservant, and she, with her perverted nature, did all she could to attract him." "The maidservant?" said Thomas. "Yes, the maidservant," said the employee. "Don't you know her?" "Barbe?" said Thomas. "Yes, Barbe, if you wish," said the employee. "That's one of her names. So - Barbe, far from pushing him away, as her duty would have dictated, made little friendly signs to him and spoke to him whenever he came close enough to hear what she was saying. In other circumstances, he would have scorned such things. But the state in which he found himself led him to judge differently, and this ridiculous coquetry seemed to cause him an incredible pleasure. Or rather it lulled him into mad hopes. These meet ings although they took place from afar, left him upset and anguished. ' He didn't know what to think of his dream. These distant rendezvous oc curred only rarely, and during the time in between he was full of extraordi nary thoughts nourished by his fever, thoughts whose bizarre character he had no way of discerning. One of them was that if he could only touch her dress, he would immediately fall asleep. With such fantasies, he was lost in deed. And yet a considerable amount of time passed before things became truly serious. Barbe still did not approach him, and when she shouted at him to wait for her, he could stay for hours and even days right where he was when he saw her, but he waited in vain. So he decided, since this wait ing was causing him to lose touch with his reason, to seek her out himself, and he began to wander through the corridors and the rooms, wherever he might hope to find her. Naturally she was nowhere to be found. But was she really? I believe that in his distracted state he often passed her with out recognizing her and that, since she cared nothing for him, she herself hardly noticed him and so let him go by. But one day he found her. I was with him. He ran toward her as though he were about to sacrifice her. But he stopped a few steps away, and without catching his breath, in the same breath that his running had already impaired, he told her everything that a confused mind such as his own could express about his confusion, his madness, the void that was choking him. What sense did she make of it? 127
As she listened, she waved her hands in my direction and greeted me in the most pleasant way. From that moment, so it seems to me, I was the one she was determined to have, I who was older, more reasonable, more difficult to lose - or rather, alas, easier to corrupt. Simon didn't notice any of this, and in any case he would have put up with anything. When he finished his little speech, she smiled at him, called him her sweetheart, and promised to come see him. When she left him, she waved to me again. The strange thing is that a few moments later, while my poor companion had not yet recovered from the agitation these few words had caused him and seemed to be spinning in circles and wrapped in a haze, she came back and led him away. I didn't see him until a few hours later. He seemed even more dis traught and miserable, but in answer to my questions, he claimed that he had slept. How could that be? He had the look of a man who had wandered through the woods a whole night long without finding a way out; he was still looking, but now he had no idea what he was looking for; he began his work, and his activity was more alarming than his torpor, for he seemed to have forgotten who he was, and the enthusiasm he showed only testified to his complete absence of mind. He had other meetings with the maid servant. Sometimes he would come back with a transformed and radiant face, a superb youthfulness; at other times he was ravaged and almost on the point of death; and yet it was his youthful appearance that startled me; one would have thought that he bore the mark of his condemnation and that he was no longer of this world. One day he told me that Barbe wished to see me. I went to meet her in one of the rooms on the first underground floor where she often goes. Hardly had I closed the door when she threw herself around my neck with a kiss and sat me down on the bed. Then she told me she had been waiting for me to come to her for a long time, that I had certainly taken my time in catching on, that she had noticed, how ever, that I had a weakness for her, but that I was no doubt annoyed by her conversations with Simon. How did I respond to her? I could hardly make out her words; I looked at the room we were in and did not recognize it; it seemed to me that I had been there once before but in very different cir cumstances, with a heart as light as it was heavy now, and with senses that reached out to things I could no longer touch. But she laughed at my re sponse and said that seeing me from close up, she found me very young, that my age was a question of distance, that if one tried to think of me, it was impossible to form in one's mind a face so obscured by time, but that 128
from now on she would run to me with her eyes closed, waiting to open them until she could see the delicate texture of my skin and the length of my eyelashes. What did it all mean? Alas, what did anything mean to me? This conversation today seems to have taken place in a world I never actu ally saw, although scarcely a day has passed between now and then. In the end, she asked me to give her a keepsake. 'I don't have anything,' I told her. She didn't believe me and reached into my pockets. 'That's what I want,' she said. It was my employee's badge, a little notebook whose pages had been taken out to pad my dossier. I tried to get it back from her, but she placed it on her knees and contemplated it in silence with a serious look on her face. I looked at it too but made no more effort to take her property from her; it was no longer mine. I said to myself: 'It is done.' I had the im pression that I was losing everything but also that I was rid of everything, and for the first time I thought with pleasure of this conversation that up to then had brought me only discomfort, anguish, and distress. She stood up, patted my hand with affection, and gently led me from the room. You can guess what happened after that. She must have said something against me, and I was turned over to the tenants." Thomas nodded his head, as if in approval. "Where is Barbe?" he asked. The old employee looked at him sadly. "Do you want to question her?" he said. "It isn't easy to question her. She often refuses to answer, and when she does, it isn't always clear whether what she says bears any relation to what you have asked her. And if you ask her questions about us, there's no telling what she might say. Does she even know our names? Does she remember such insignificant incidents as these? Does she not have a completely different understanding of what happened? There's no way to know what she thinks." "Are her occupations really so absorbing," asked Thomas, "that she doesn't remember events from one day to the next? She has some influence here, no?" "Why are you trying to tempt me?" said the old man in a whining voice. "Of course she plays an important role. Any statement to the contrary would be a lie. But who isn't important in the house? I too had a position and wielded influence. Perhaps," he added, after reflecting a moment, "I still do." "Well, then," said Thomas, "I have influence because I can punish you, if I want." 129
"No," said the old man, "you really can't do much of anything; you're only the executioner. That's why I fear you." "Really now," said Thomas, ('I'm not so fearsome. I am only asking that you tell me where Barbe is; if you do, then I'll help you." "That's not the right question," said the old man. ('I'm afraid that things are taking a wrong turn for us. Where's the maidservant?" he said, address ing Simon. Then, answering himself, he continued in a deep voice as if he were questioning himself. "Which Barbe is he talking about? Is it the same one? Aren't there several? Do we ever know whom it is we're dealing with? When she was speaking to me, did I not have the impression that there was a confusion of names and that the woman in front of me had neither the figure nor the features of the one who had called to me? And what was it she said? That she never leaves the first floor, that if she strays from the in firmary, even for a moment, all the patients would be lost, that she cannot even look in the other direction without their suffering from some terrible transformation. So someone, or several people, would take her place for the work in the bas
ement. Or she would have a substitute in the hospital. Or else, as others claim, she long ago contracted a deadly disease and has been relieved of all her work." Thomas interrupted him. "What a lot of foolishness. I saw a maidser vant named Barbe who was not sick but was cleaning the rooms, and who worked in the basement, not in the hospital. She's the one I want to see, and you will not dissuade me by turning things around like this." Straining his ears and pressing his lips together, the old man listened anxiously; he was sitting on the floor and tried unsuccessfully to get up. "But that's the Barbe who spoke to me about you. She also wanted to see you. She asked me if I had met you, what you looked like, if you liked the house. I said yes, without knowing; I had no idea who you were." "But she had already seen me," said Thomas pensively. "Perhaps," said the old man, "but she also wanted to see you through the eyes of another." Thomas did not answer. He turned for a moment toward the door, as if to expel everything he had heard, then he shouted at the two employees: "You're free. Run to Barbe, both of you, and tell her that I want to talk to her right away." "But," they answered together, "we're not allowed to leave." "Alright then," said Thomas, "since I'm allowed to punish you, let the punishment begin." 13 0
He took up the piece of wood and struck them sharply but without any real cruelty. During the punishment, the guardian opened the door and came in. Without interrupting the beating, Thomas said: "They refused to obey." Then, since he felt tired, he threw down the stick and waited. The guard ian had brought with him three large white gowns that looked like the patients' gowns, although they were more shiny and silky. "Put these on," he said. The two employees, subdued by the beating, obeyed immediately; they showed no more signs of the stupefied terror that was so repulsive and seemed irresistibly to invite blows; the younger one, although his face was covered with red streaks, had regained all his vigor. Thomas thought they were just as hypocritical as they were cowardly. The third gown lay fiat on the table where the lamplight made it shine with a beautiful golden color. Thomas saw that it was his size, and he put it on, saying to himself all the while - in order to fight off the slight shiver he felt while touching the ma terial - that he would take it off at the first free opportunity. Only Dom kept the same clothes on. Before leaving, the guardian put out the light and said: "Now keep silent; the patients cannot tolerate any noise." So they were going to walk through the hospital. Hardly had they crossed the threshold when Thomas, who was in front, stopped short. The dark ness was total; it was darker, he thought, than the night he had entered when he left the gaming room. What peace! He had already had this im pression with the old man in the basement, but whereas there one re mained a stranger to the tranquility that lay all around, here one was a part of the calm, and although it was a calm without hope, it inspired only one desire: to go no farther and to linger indefinitely. Thomas remained motionless only for a few seconds; the guardian called him to order, saying in a voice he made little attempt to soften: "Keep moving please." Since it was forbidden for him to stop, he stepped slightly aside from the straight line they had formed and went into the little walkways that no doubt led to the patients' bedsides. He walked slowly, his hands out in front of him, his eyes wide open. Finally he knocked up against a small table and raised his voice in surprise. Dom's steady hand held him. Was he trying to stop him from moving forward, or was he pushing him on? Was he, too, lost in the shadows? He then knocked against something himself, and this second shock only increased the strangeness of the first. 13 1
"Too much noise, too much noise," yelled the guardian. Thomas wanted to go back to the middle of the room. Suddenly the light came on. The large hall was visible in all its immensity. The beds were lined up side by side, and at the foot of each one was a small wooden trunk that looked like the first step of a stairway. The beds were empty. Several of them seemed to have been carelessly made, but most of them probably had not had a patient in them for a long time. Thomas looked especially at the trunks. They were large boxes painted in lively colors that hurt one's eyes if stared at too intently. They were used for storing medication. Thomas was absorbed in this contemplation until he noticed again the presence of the guardian, who was undoing Dom's chains. "Go wait for me outside," said the guardian to the young man, who, free of his fetters, walked toward the vestibule. Thomas walked away too. He came to the middle of the large space, and seeing that the doors at each end were open, he turned his back to his companions and crossed in a few steps to the other side of the room. He entered another vestibule, and the first person he saw was Barbe. The maidservant gave him a friendly smile. She was seated at a small table where she had spread out large pieces of cloth. The material seemed rough, and it was difficult to stick the needle through. "Now that," said Thomas, "is a tough piece of work for you." Barbe nodded very seriously. "When do you have a chance to rest?" he added. "I never see you when you're not in the middle of some enormous chore. You don't seem to be like the other employees." "Everyone here works a lot," she said. "There is so much to do in a house like this." "But," said Thomas, "I think you work more than the others. What are you doing now?" "As always, it's work for the sick," she said, with a sigh. "It never ends." Without speaking, Thomas studied her pretty face: it had a tired look; her remarkably fine features showed no satisfaction; everything that gave her confidence, and even a certain pretension, had disappeared. "Pardon me," he said. "If I'm intruding into your affairs, please don't hesitate to tell me so. But 1 can't help seeing how tired your lovely face looks. Do you have many worries?" The maidservant ran her hand over her face, closed her eyes for a mo13 2
ment, as though to gather her thoughts, and managed finally to smile. "It's always like this," she said, "when there are new patients. Worries? No, why would I have worries? But the work is overwhelming, and one hardly knows where to begin." Nevertheless, she sat there calmly enough, and her fingers negligently pulled through the black thread that fringed the cloth. "Are there a lot of new patients?" asked Thomas. "How would I know?" she said. "The staff keeps it a secret. Just try to find out what's happening. All they do is give us commands -and how they bark at us ! - commands to put everything in order, as if the entire house were to be transformed into a hospital. Sometimes a dozen patients come, sometimes one, sometimes none. All the while we're working day and night." "Improper methods," said Thomas. "But," he added, "since I have the pleasure of seeing you here, and we can speak freely, tell me: wasn't there some question of a message for me not long ago?" " A message?" said the girl in a questioning tone. "Are you sure?" "Completely sure," replied Thomas. "I certainly didn't dream it. We were on the first underground floor, and you had asked me to leave my room. You were at that moment in the middle of a large cleaning job. I remember your words, more or less; you said: 'I have a message for you.' And then you added: 'Go wait until I'm finished.' " "I remember our meeting very well," said the girl . "It was even a very pleasant meeting for me. How energetic you were, how strong and deter mined you looked! But did I really speak of a communication?" "Not exactly of a communication," said Thomas, "rather a message. But see if you still remember the circumstances of our discussion, because then it should be plain; I was a little afraid that you had forgotten everything. You recall how I followed you around to the rooms, and we stayed a while with a very old man who, according to you, was faking his illness. I lin gered there for a moment, and at the time I didn't know how quick you were, and I lost you." That was not quite the truth, as Thomas himself knew; it was he who had voluntarily left the girl to find his way alone, but there was no need for her to know this. "Didn't you have a companion?" she asked. "Yes, I did," said Thomas, annoyed that she was letting her thoughts wan der away from what he was saying. "We were just separated." 133
"That's too bad for you, isn't it?" she said. "Now you'll be left to decide and to act on your own. Wasn't he very tall and strong?" She looked carefully at Thomas; he had the impression that at first she had confused the two of them in her memory. "This message," she con tinued, "perhaps it was meant for your co
mpanion." "That's impossible," said Thomas emphatically. "Think about it: I could not have made such a mistake. When we were together, the three of us, and despite our good relations, you treated us somewhat differently, my part ner and me; it never would have occurred to me to think that something you said to him was meant for me. You would no doubt have put things in a completely different way. How could anyone think you were speaking to him?" "Yes, I see," said the girl. "I would have said: A message has been sub mitted to me, which the regulations forbid me to impart to you; I could do so only if it were official business; you must therefore wait until I have terminated my work so that I may confer with you at a time other than my assigned working hours." "You're joking," said Thomas, although the girl had spoken very seri ously. "What language! It might have been necessary to use such solemn expressions with me, insofar as I was a tenant, were it not that we had dis pensed with that type of relationship from the beginning. But with my companion! You would have laughed at it yourself. If you will just think about it for a moment, you will recall that it was quite the contrary. I would be glad to repeat to you the words you used. May I do so?" "Go ahead then," said Barbe, who had stopped her work the better to follow the conversation. ''I'm afraid I may shock you," said Thomas. "Nevertheless, since you give me permission, I will try, for this may not be irrelevant to our discussion. But you must help me. Am I mistaken or did you not call him 'my sweet heart'?" "Why not?" said Barbe. "Did you not also say 'this little pet, this little darling'? Of course, in your mind it was only a question of some friendly terms meant to put him at ease, with no other intention. And yet a stranger such as myself, who up to then had only had dealings with very formal employees, could not fail to be surprised by this. Since things do not happen here the way they do elsewhere, I was tempted to find a special meaning in this way of speaking." 134