Her Lover (Belle de Seigneur)

by Albert Cohen

  CHAPTER 13

  The porter at the Ritz Hotel peered suspiciously at the dove-coloured silk stockings worn by the tiny old man who stood before him with a gold earring in one ear, a beaver hat in his hand and his mackintosh over one arm, while the three young bellboys sitting on a bench swung their legs and whispered veiled remarks to each other through barely moving lips.

  'You have an appointment?'

  'Appointment, my foot and my elbow!' came the cool reply from this bizarre personage, who proceeded to put his hat back on his head. 'Know this, O janissary, learn, O brown-uniformed, excessively gold-braided one, and be told that I am his uncle, that's the long and short of it; that it is none of your business whether I have an appointment or not, though as a matter of fact I have, made yesterday via the telephonic apparatus by the lady with the cultured voice for this very day, the first of the month of June, at nine o'clock ante meridiem, but I thought it would be better to come at eight, for that way we shall be able to drink our morning coffee together.'

  'So you have an appointment for nine?'

  In a transport of delight, with the nearness of his nephew making him overbearingly full of himself, Saltiel did not even hear the question.

  'I am his uncle,' he went on, 'and should you require me to show you my totally genuine and absolutely unforged passport, you will see that my name is Solal, like his! His uncle, rightful brother to his own mother, who was also a Solal, but of the junior branch, which in reality is the senior line! But let's not go into that. And when I say his uncle, I really should say his father, for he has always preferred me to his natural sire! That's life, my friend, for the biddings of the heart are not ours to command! One person is born to be loved, another to be loved less well! This man becomes a chieftain in the League of Nations by the power of his brain, and this other a hotel porter eternally at the mercy of guests who arrive, and condemned to touch his cap to those who depart! May God comfort him in his lowly station! But here's the nub: I have come to see him before the appointed hour of nine because it is my pleasure to wish to drink the first cup of coffee of the day in his company, for I held him on my lap when he joined the Covenant, when he was but one week old, and because it is also my pleasure to converse with him on divers lofty subjects while luxuriating in his splendiferous surroundings, which I do, though not without resentment, for he is most assuredly being overcharged in this hotel where I note that the electric lights are still burning at eight o'clock in the morning, thus driving up the overheads. And who pays for it all? He does! The hand that reaches into his wallet steals from me! So if it's not too much of a strain, would you mind turning off all these lamps, for outside the sun shines as bright as in the land of the Pharaohs?'

  'Who shall I say is calling?' asked the porter, who decided against ejecting this madman straight off since it could be true that he was a relation after all. With these foreign types you could never tell.

  'Since you have to do something to earn your salary and justify the two golden keys on your collar, say that it is Saltiel of the Solals, his only uncle, who has stepped on to terra fxrma in one piece from a flying-machine chartered in London, whither I had ventured to study the manners and customs of the British in the wake of numerous other expeditions, some undertaken by means of locomotives, others on the wings of clouds, others still by maritime routes, with the constant purpose of increasing my knowledge and exploring the human heart. But now I am arrived in this place, summoned by my nephew and son of my soul! I have spoken. And now do your porterly duty!'

  Picking up the receiver, the porter announced the arrival, listened to the reply, hung up, smiled pleasantly, and asked the visitor if he would be good enough to go up. At this, Saltiel crossed his arms, like an admiral.

  'Find favour in the eyes of the King,' he intoned, 'and the haughty viper will sing with the humble voice of the canary! So it is with me, friend: gracious words for the affable, but beastly to beasts, a lion to hyenas! But we should show mercy to menials, so let us draw a veil over what has been! Tell me the number of his room.'

  'Apartment thirty-seven, sir. I'll have a bellboy show you the way.'

  At a sign from his superior, one of the bellboys stood up and Saltiel gazed curiously at the red uniform worn by the impeccably groomed adolescent: braided-gold epaulettes, buttons shining on the bum-freezer jacket, gold stripes on the trousers and sleeves. 'Bell-ringing at his age?' he thought. 'What strange customs they have here! And just look at him! Turned out like the Prince of Wales! Yet another charge on the overheads!' Biting his lip to keep a straight face, the bellboy indicated that he would lead the way. But, two metres before they reached the lift, Saltiel stopped, troubled by a sudden thought. All these underlings would now proceed to put it about that their illustrious client had an uncle who lacked polish and was therefore a member of a family of no distinction. Well, he'd show these Europeans that he knew how to behave and that he was perfectly at ease in the most exalted circles.

  'No, after you,' he said with a pleasant smile to the diminutive lackey in white gloves, who had halted at the entrance to the lift.

  The bellboy obeyed, crimson with suppressed mirth, and Saltiel followed him, his gait a mixture of glide and sway which seemed to him the very pineapple of the diplomatic manner.

  'Return to your duties, child,' he said, when the lift stopped at the third floor. 'There is no need for you to come with me. I shall find the apartment, which is numbered, myself. Here are ten Swiss centimes for you. Buy yourself some sweeties or make an oblation thereof to your saintly mother, according to the dictates of your heart.'

  He was shocked by the ingratitude of the impertinent youth who did not even pause to say thank you. All the king-sired child had done was to press one finger on a button of this vertical locomotive! So what did the princeling expect by way of a tip? He had got pennies, it was true, but they were Swiss pennies, in other words droplets of pure gold!

  His indignation spent, he stood in the corridor and smiled, congratulating himself on having got rid of the Prince of Wales. Now he could take his time, prepare his entrance and make a good impression. He produced a looking-glass from his pocket and peered into it. The turned-down collar looked well, very clean and highly starched. A good thing he'd thought of running the iron over his frock-coat that morning. The red carnation in his buttonhole went nicely with the flowered waistcoat. Besides, didn't English cabinet ministers always wear a buttonhole? He smoothed his silky crest of white hair, then pulled his beaver hat down over one ear, for he had noticed that whenever his nephew dressed formally he wore his handsome top-hat slightly to one side.

  'Yes, the titfer modestly tilted is altogether more modern, more rakish, and, by the by, commands attention.'

  He lowered the little looking-glass until it was on a level with his knees. Yes, his breeches were held firmly in place by the buckles of antic silver. Last evening, Naileater had made disparaging remarks about these breeches which belonged to another age. Just jealous, of course. He had been wearing breeches all his life and he wasn't going to alter his habits now, not at his age. No, very presentable. He unleashed a long, simpering sigh. Just imagine, his nephew was there, on the other side of this door, thinking of him and waiting for him to come. Yes, as soon as he was inside he would embrace him and give him his blessing. He cleared a frog from his throat and, with his old heart beating loudly, he approached the enchanted door and knocked quietly. There was no reply. Taking his courage in both hands, he knocked louder.

  The door opened and Solal, wearing a sumptuous dressing-gown, bent his head and kissed the hand of Saltiel, who felt suddenly weak at the knees. He was overwhelmed by the kiss bestowed on his hand and could think of nothing to say. He dared not embrace his nephew — in any case he was too tall — who stood looking at him with a smile on his face. To show a bold front, he rubbed his hands together and then asked Sol if he was well. The reply being in the affirmative, he rubbed his hands again.

  'God be praised. I am very well too, tha
nks. What a splendid day it is,' he added after a moment's silence.

  Eventually Solal took pity on his little uncle and cut short his embarrassment by kissing him on both of his perfectly clean-shaven cheeks. Saltiel returned the embrace, wiped his nose, murmured a blessing, looked all around him and beamed.

  'Handsome drawing-room, son. May you long have the use of it, dear boy. But I see that the window is open. You must watch out for draughts, laddie, and remember that a dab of mentholated vaseline in the nostrils keeps colds away. Well now, Sol, all well with the politics? Are you pleased with the various nations?'

  'They are behaving themselves,' said Solal soberly.

  There was another silence, which Saltiel dared not break. Sol was probably turning important thoughts over in his head, preparing some difficult speech perhaps. He decided to let him be for a moment or two, so that he wouldn't lose his thread. He crossed his arms and stood quietly where he was, watching his nephew pace up and down the room. How tall he was! Just imagine, he had held him on his lap the day he was circumcised! Then he was a baby who cried; now he was a great lord, a leader of nations. Praise be to God who knew what He had been about! Yes, that must be the reason. If he wasn't saying much, it was because his mind was on his speech or busy mulling over a decision on which hung the fate of some country or other. And to think that that infernal Englishman, Sol's so-called superior, would go about telling everybody that it had been his idea all along and then take all the credit! This 'Under' affixed to 'Secretary-General' stuck in his craw; he just could not swallow it. When the devil would this blasted Englishman make up his mind to resign and leave the job to a man capable of doing it properly? Of course, he did not wish this useless Englishman dead, but if it pleased God to visit him with just enough arthritis to force him into early retirement, well, heigh-ho, it would be the will of the Almighty.

  'Uncle. Dinner this evening. At the Deumes.. Shall I go? Or stay away? You decide.'

  'What can I say, dear boy? I'm not qualified to judge. If you want to go, then go you must.'

  Solal opened a drawer, took out a bundle of bank notes, handed them to his uncle, who counted them and, when he was done, looked up at the source of such bounty with pride, his eyes ashine with brimming tears. Only a scion of a royal line would give you ten thousand Swiss francs as if it were a bull's-eye or a gobstopper!

  'The blessing of God be on you, my boy. I thank you from the bottom of my soul. But I don't need money. I am too old to want so much. What would I do with it? Keep the fruits of your sweat, laddie, but not in a drawer, not even in a lockable drawer, for a key can be copied — such is the destiny of keys. Put these notes deep in your pocket and fasten it with safety-pins, for pockets yawn — such is the way of pockets. And now, dear heart, know that I never miss a thing: I have observed that you need to be alone to ponder the matter of this evening's dinner. So I shall take myself off downstairs and find me an armchair. I shall not be bored, never fear. I shall watch the people as they come and go, it's a hobby of mine. Send me word when you have done your pondering. So goodbye for now, eyes of mine, and God be with you!'

  When he reached the lobby, his misgivings took hold of him again. Yes, he really had been a bit rude to the porter earlier on. The blackguard was perfectly capable of getting his own back on the uncle by taking it out on the nephew — by tearing up an important letter or committing God knew what other piece of underhanded villainy. It was absolutely imperative that he should work himself into the swine's good graces and spike his thirst for revenge.

  He went over to the small office, leaned his elbows benignly on the counter, and said to the porter: 'My nephew has spoken to me about you. You stand high in his esteem.' Taken aback, the porter made gratified noises and Saltiel, shooting a bewitching smile at the now neutralized nasty, began casting about for an affable follow-up to consolidate this auspicious beginning. 'I take it you are a Swiss citizen?' The porter gave a grudging 'Yes', shocked that a League of Nations bigwig should be a nephew of this clown in breeches. Clearly, with foreigners you could expect anything, you never quite knew which part of the woodwork they crawled out of.

  'My compliments,' said Saltiel. 'Switzerland is a wise and noble country, possessed of every virtue, and I most sincerely wish it a prosperous future, though it has no need of my wishes since it keeps a pretty firm hand on the tiller. And this hotel is excellently well run, where's the harm in leaving a few lights on, makes it more cheerful. (After a pause, he thought that one or two details about Sol might be of interest to this gloomy individual and complete the softening-up process.) Just consider, my porterly friend, that, like all first-born sons of the senior Solal line, my nephew's first name is Solal! It's a tradition! More specifically, on his Jewish birth certificate he is recorded as Solal XIV of the Solals, son of the revered Chief Rabbi of Cephalonia and a descendant of the High Priest Aaron, brother of Moses! Fascinating, isn't it? And that, pleasant porterman, is not all: my four cousins and I have the honour of belonging to the junior line! After several centuries, some highly agreeable, others less so, spent in divers provinces of France, we sailed away to the isle of Cephalonia in 1799, there to link hands with the senior line which had taken refuge therein in 1492 in the wake of the expulsion of the Jews from Spain! Cursed be Torquemada! I spit on him! Listen, we five, of the lesser Solal lineage and known as the Valiant of France, received full French citizenship by the terms of the most agreeable decree issued by the National Assembly on the twenty-seventh of September 1791, and French citizens we have been proud to remain, duly registered by the consulate at Cephalonia, thrilled to speak the sweet tongue of the old country spiced with fustian vocables unique to the county of Avignon and known only to us, and honoured on long winter evenings to be dewy-eyed readers of Ronsard and Racine. But know this too, O porter of porters, that both Naileater and Michael saw service with the Hundred-and-Forty-First Infantry at Marseilles, the other three of us, myself included, having been judged unfit for military duties, which was a great disappointment, but there you are.'

  The ringing of the telephone stopped his flow. The porter replaced the receiver on the hook and said that his nephew was asking for him. 'Very glad to have had this little chat. Be so good as to accept an aniseed ball,' said Saltiel, who proffered his little box of sweeties, gave a graceful bow, and departed, highly delighted by his little stratagem. From this moment henceforth, Sol was safe and dry! He had wound the porter round his little finger! It was with extreme affability that, having first proffered a liquorice allsort as being 'more suited to your age', he said no to the invitation to use the lift extended by the other potential enemy he had thus appeased, the princeling arrayed in red and buttoned in gold. This cage which went up and down did not appeal to him at all. The cable might snap, and he had his doubts about the life to come.

  'Capital, this fine-blend coffee! Balm to my soul!' said Saltiel, and he poured himself a second cup, which he then sipped with the slurpings indispensable to a proper appreciation of its flavour. 'The tray, both coffee pots and the spoons are all silver, I can see the hallmarks, God indeed be praised. Ah, if only your poor mother could see you now surrounded by all this silverware! By the by, I omitted to tell you that following our visit last year, after we bade you farewell, we went, you'll never guess, unto a mountain named Saleve, close by Geneva, it was Naileater's idea. Eight hundred metres it measures in the matter of height! My dear, the precipices! The cows left to wander about! Horns a metre long, as God's my witness! And with such a stupid, unfeeling look about them! All these Gentiles who pay good money to get themselves impaled on an Alp so that they can freeze to death and fall over cliffs when they're exhausted, well, it passes my understanding! Yes please, I'll have another cup of coffee if there's some left, there's no point in leaving any, they charge you enough for it. Thank you, my son, and may the Almighty watch over you and look upon you with gladsome eye. Ah, my boy, it makes me so very happy to know that you are here in Geneva, the small republic with a great heart, home of
the Red Cross and righteousness! It's quite different from Germany! Incidentally, Naileater told me yesterday afternoon in the strictest confidence that he was thinking of buying rabid dogs from the Pasteur Institute so that he could release them secretly into Germany. The idea was that they would bite Germans, who would also get rabies, who would then bite other Germans, and so on and so forth until the whole cursed lot of them were biting each other. I absolutely forbade him to do any such thing, quite outrageous, pointed out to him that there's nothing German about us! Anyhow, we had a long discussion about it and in the end he conceded defeat! After that, I took a turn outside with Solomon, felt like a breath of lakeside air, and we strolled along together holding hands by our little fingers. Then we went to see the Wall of the Reformation. Quite magnificent. We doffed our hats before the four great reformers and observed a minute's silence, because Protestantism is a noble faith, and moreover Protestants are very honest people, very proper, it's a well-known fact. You should have seen Solomon, standing to attention like a soldier, very serious, holding his little boater in his hand. He even wanted us to observe an extra minute's silence. I find that Lord Calvin has something of our own master, Moses, about him, just a little something, of course, since Moses, our master, is beyond compare, he was the Almighty's only friend, He has never had another, so there's no contest! Still, I like Calvin very much, strict but fair, not a man to trifle with! Next, we went and had a look at the University, which is just opposite. There's a motto carved over the main entrance, I committed it to memory, I'll recite it for you, see what you think: "In dedicating this building to advanced study, the People of Geneva pays tribute to the virtues of Education, the ultimate guarantor of the rights of citizens." Now isn't that superb! Such a thought is the hallmark of a great people, believe me! I wiped a secret tear from my eye, I don't mind admitting. And Solomon took his hat off and was all for observing another minute's silence, this time, in front of the University! And there you have it, a full statement of how I spent yesterday. Oh, by the way, dear boy, this boss of yours, the Englishman, still keeping well is he?'