Her Lover (Belle de Seigneur)

by Albert Cohen

  'A delegation,' said Naileater, twirling his gold-handled cane. 'Come to parley with the honourable Solal!'

  'Your Excellency has an appointment? I take it you are expected, Mr President? (In reply, the Sash (First Class) merely gave a disdainful smile and twirled his cane in the opposite direction.) Who shall I say is calling, Your Excellency?'

  'I am here incognito,' replied Naileater. 'Negotiations. Political secrets. It will be enough, O liveried underling, to give him the password, which is Cephalonia. Now go, make haste!' he barked, and the porter scurried off.

  On his return, Saulnier, breathing heavily, informed His Excellency the President that the Under-Secretary-General, currently in a meeting with Monsieur Leon Blum, had requested His Excellency and the other gentlemen to be good enough to wait a few moments. He led the strange band into the small antechamber reserved for the use of distinguished visitors.

  'But hear this, my good man. I shall wait no longer than five minutes,' said Naileater. 'It is a rule which I have always observed in my official life. Convey this intelligence to whomsoever it may concern.'

  The moment the door closed, Saltiel raised the forefinger of authority and commanded the impostor to remove instanter the sash to which he had no right. 'At once, knave!' Naileater gave a leering, sneering smile but did as he was told, for he sensed that the all-powerful nephew might not take too kindly to the sash (First Class), which, in any case, had already served its purpose. Besides, best not risk making difficulties with Leon Blum, whom he might be meeting shortly: as Prime Minister it was more than likely that he knew personally everyone who had been so honoured by France. He took off the sash, kissed it reverently, put it away in his pocket, and, with a wink at Saltiel, sat down.

  'And now, gentlemen,' said Saltiel, 'let silence and good manners be your watchwords, for on the other side of that quilted door two great minds are even now discussing the happiness of mankind. So I do not want to hear a mouse stir or a pin drop!'

  Awed by the splendour of the room, the Valiant fell silent. Solomon crossed his arms to show his good breeding. Michael cleaned his fingernails with the point of one of his daggers and did not protest when, feeling in need of a smoke, he had his cigarette snatched from his lips by a grimly silent Saltiel. Mattathias inspected the furniture, felt the wool in the carpet, and did sums in his head.

  In the silence, Saltiel smiled. Perhaps Sol would introduce him to Monsieur Blum. If he did, and if the atmosphere were conducive, he would respectfully point out that workers in France really seemed to be going in for far too many strikes. He might even advise Monsieur Blum not to stay on too long as leader of the Cabinet, to avoid attracting jealousy and envy. Jews in politics should stay out of the limelight, it was safer. Minister, yes, but Prime Minister was too much. They'd have their turn later when, God willing, Israel was reborn. Be that as it may, he was soon to see Sol in his magnificent office, and, who knows, perhaps Sol might even bark a few orders down the telephone in full sight of the admiring cousins. He glanced up at them with a delicate, affectionate smile as he sat anticipating the imminent joy of being ushered into the presence. And, who knows, perhaps Sol would kiss his hand while the others watched in wonder. And so he mused on, while Solomon worked out a greeting in verse to recite when the moment came, and Naileater, less assured now that he was sashless, gave a series of nervous yawns which all ended in a squeak.

  The door opened and the Valiant got to their feet. Solomon forgot his greeting in verse and the hand of Saltiel was indeed kissed. Whereupon the tiny old man took out a squared handkerchief and blew his nose in it, feeling weak at the knees. Sol gestured them to sit, and the Cephalonians sat down, Solomon feeling quite overcome by the softness of his armchair, which almost swallowed him whole.

  'Good discussion was it, Sol, with the Prime Minister?' enquired Saltiel after a brief clearing of the throat.

  'We talked of state secrets which I am not at liberty to divulge,' said Solal, who knew exactly which answer would go down best.

  'Quite right, O High Excellency,' said Naileater, eager to contribute his pennyworth and be seen in a good light. 'If I may say so with all due deference, quite right.'

  'And tell me, Sol, you and the Prime Minister parted on good terms?'

  'We embraced.'

  His uncle feigned deafness to make him say it again, so as to be quite sure that all present had heard. He coughed and observed the effect on the four shining faces of the Valiant.

  'So you and the Prime Minister embraced, did you? Very good. Very good indeed,' he said loudly for the benefit of Mattathias, who was sometimes a little hard of hearing. 'And tell me, my boy: the Vatican City. It seems to me to be very small, quite insignificant, and I am grieved for His Excellency the Pope, who looks a kindly sort of man. Couldn't the League of Nations see its way to making his patch just a tiny bit bigger? I mean to say, he is a sovereign prince after all. I raise the matter so that you might give it a little thought as and when. You see, I feel a great warmth for His Holiness. Anyhow, if you were able to do something, it would be a good deed well done. Well now, son, so you, as I learned yesterday, have been made a Commander by Leopold II, Leopold the Opulent, he of the Congo. I forgot to mention it, gentlemen,' he said, turning to the silent cousins. 'Which means you are twice a Commander, once for the French and once for the Belgians. I have always had a great respect for Belgium, a country distinguished by great common sense. By the by, my boy,' he added, affecting an air of innocence, 'has the President of the Republic by any chance recently offered you something in the Legion of Honour higher than Commander? No? How very odd. But there, I never did much like his face.'

  When Solal wondered if they might wish to partake of some refreshment, Saltiel suggested a small black coffee, if it was not too much trouble. Solomon was bold enough to say that he liked strawberry cordial, then, red with shame, dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. Michael stated his preference, which was for the yolks of two eggs beaten up in cognac. First parking his gum on the arm of his chair, Mattathias said he was not thirsty but would accept the equivalent in cash and buy himself a drink in town later.

  'And for my part, Highness,' said Naileater, 'I require, with all due deference, very little. A couple of slices of cooked ham, which is the pure and Jewish part of the pig. With a blot of mustard and soft rolls, if it can be managed.'

  'Pay no attention to these unschooled morons!' cried Saltiel, who could contain himself no longer. 'O cursed crew! O men of little breeding! From what manner of mannerless mothers did you spring? Where do you think you are? In a station buffet or some tavern? Sol, if you can find it in your heart to forgive them, a small coffee for each and nothing else! (With arms crossed and feeling perfectly at home, he glared at each of the uncouth cousins in turn.) Strawberry cordial, indeed! Egg yolks! Equivalent in cash! As for this other unspeakable oaf! Wanting ham, like some Freemason!'

  'O tiger-hearted uncle,' muttered Naileater. 'A harmless, inconsequential petit dejeuner and he takes it out of my mouth!'

  A few moments later, Miss Wilson — to whom Solal had seen fit to introduce the Valiant, with all due ceremony and a detailed explanation of how exactly they were all related — set down five cups of coffee in front of these shocking visitors and went out without saying a word, more bottomlessly strait-laced than ever, so bottomless and so straight in fact that Naileater went so far as to ask, in the case of so obvious a virgin, which was the front of her and which the back. At this, Saltiel withered him with a look. This was the very last time that he'd bring this hell-hound to respectable places! The hell-hound, encouraged by the way Solal smiled, crossed his legs to show a quick flash of patent-leather pump, sniffed at his gardenia, stroked his beard, which left his fingers black, and began to speak.

  'My dear Excellency,' he asked with a crafty, insinuating air, 'do you by any chance have an opening here for a superlatively able principal private secretary?'

  'I grant,' said Solal, 'that you'd make the smartest PPS I ever had.'<
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  'It's a deal, Excellency!' interrupted Naileater, and he sprang to his feet. 'I accept the post! The thing being agreed in principle, the contract, though verbal, is taken as read and shall be binding on both parties. I thank you from the depth of my bowels! You can let me have your firman at your leisure, for I have every confidence in your good faith and know that your word is your bond! Until we meet again, then, Excellency,' he said as he made for the door. 'You may rest assured that I shall prove worthy of your trust!'

  'And where do you think you are going, you miserable oaf?' cried Saltiel, barring his way.

  'To announce my appointment to the press,' said Naileater, 'to meet my staff, initiate an overview or two, exchange views, give orders, offer assurances of my support, and levy one or two taxes!'

  'I forbid you to leave this room! Sol, you must stop this man blackening your good name! Explain to him that he hasn't been appointed to anything! Principal private secretary, indeed! Can't you see that he'll create havoc? Sit down, son of Satan! Sol, this man brings perdition in his wake! Promise that you won't appoint him!'

  'I can't promise that because I've already appointed him,' said Solal, to leave Naileater one crumb of comfort. 'But since you so wish it, Uncle, I hereby countermand it.'

  Under his breath, Naileater wished a plague of boils on Saltiel, but drew immediate comfort from the thought of the visiting-cards he would order at once which would feature the mention: Sometime Principal Private Secretary at the League of Nations! So he crossed his arms and eyed Saltiel beadily. Meanwhile Solal was writing, for he had hit upon a way of brightening Saltiel's declining years.

  'Uncle, what would you say if I asked you to undertake an official visit on behalf of the League of Nations?'

  Saltiel turned pale. But he managed to maintain his composure and answered that he was at the entire disposal of an organization which had long stood high in his esteem and that if his meagre talents and so forth. He was very pleased with his answer. After a careless glance in Naileater's direction, the untroubled glance of a man well accustomed to success, a man of infinite unflappability, he asked with beating heart exactly what the visit entailed. It was explained to him that the rabbi of Lausanne had recently informed the Secretariat that he was organizing a series of lectures on the League of Nations. As it happened, the first was being delivered this very afternoon, at four thirty. It would be a friendly gesture if the League of Nations were to send a special representative who, empowered to act on its behalf and duly accredited by the present letter, would honour the lecture by his presence and convey the warmest wishes of the Secretary-General. Would Uncle Saltiel agree to go to Lausanne?

  'I am ready, my boy,' said Saltiel, rising to his feet. 'Lausanne is close by Geneva. I shall leave at once and take the train. Give me the letter of accreditation. Thank you. Farewell, my son, I must away to the station with all convenient speed.'

  'Wait,' said Solal. He picked up the telephone, gave an order in English, replaced the receiver, and smiled at the tiny old man. 'Uncle, you will be driven to Lausanne in an official car, which will bring you back to Geneva once your mission has been completed. The car is waiting. The porter will show you the way.'

  Again Saltiel turned to Naileater, and gave him a cool victorious stare. Holding his letter patent in his hand, he offered to take the cousins with him, as advisers, though it was to be clearly understood that he alone, as the authorized representative, was empowered to speak to the rabbi. All the Valiant agreed to this, with the exception of Naileater, who, folding his arms across his chest once more, informed Saltiel that he was not accustomed to serving in a subordinate capacity and that furthermore the idea of an official visit to a mere rabbi, who in all likelihood was a total ignoramus, was to his sense a complete and utter waste of time.

  From his window, Solal watched the departure of his uncle, for whom a liveried chauffeur, holding his cap in his hand, opened the door of the Rolls. The League's accredited agent stepped briskly into it, head bowed in the manner of cabinet ministers who have much on their minds, and was followed by Mattathias and Michael, who sat opposite him, while Solomon sat in the seat next to the driver. When the car had driven off, Solal smiled at his good deed. The official visit was a minor affair which could not possibly go wrong, and even if Uncle blotted his copybook the rabbi would understand. Among Jews, accommodations were always possible.

  'Highness,' said Naileater gesturing towards the leather chesterfield, 'let us sit on yonder couch of privy counsel and talk together in confidence now that there are none here present save men of the world. Highness, I have a question which, if I may speak frankly, I should like to put to you. Could you not see your way to conferring some minor title upon my person so that I might retain my rank? For example: you are assistant governor of the world, so couldn't you make me a law lord complete with wig and a black cap for wearing on the head when sentencing guilty persons to death? No? Not to worry, Highness. And how many Under-Secretaries-General are there?'

  'Three.'

  'Couldn't you make your English master see his way to having four, four being a lucky number, and, if he's the sort of man who understands these things, you may intimate with crafty insinuendo that I'd be prepared to share the salary with him? If you did, say we'd go halves: tell him a fifty-fifty split so that he gets the message. No? Not to worry, Highness. Adversity has never got the better of me. How about this: since I am a sometime principal private secretary, could I not at least be paid a modest pension which I could draw regularly during my lifetime and which would thereafter pass to my three little orphan children? No? Pity. Then may I suggest another little scheme. The League of Nations has the power to grant diplomatic immunity which prevents any prying by customs officials, is that not so? Well, I am prepared to organize a simple, innocent little smuggling operation, which I could manage nicely in my capacity as a diplomatic courier. What do you say, Highness?' he asked, and he tapped his nose with his forefinger. 'No? I understand your scruples, which do you honour. Let us now drop a subject which I never raised.' (This nephew of Saltiel's, he thought, has a hide like a rhinoceros.)

  Solal rang again, for he felt an impulse to torment Miss Wilson by inflicting the further presence of his impossible relative on her. When she materialized before him, he had of course to find something for her to do. So he asked her to send him a stenographer, while Naileater, eyes glued to the ceiling, racked his brains for even riper schemes. A Russian princess, appeared almost immediately, man-killing and sinuous, equipped with an eye-catching rump and a small shorthand typewriter. Garnished with long lashes, she sat and waited, her eyes fluttering and her breasts thrust forward, always a good idea.

  'Ready?'

  'I'm always ready,' she smiled.

  'A letter, addressed to Madame Adrien Deume at Cologny.'

  While she took his dictation, the finger-tapping princess smiled without taking her eyes off him, in part to demonstrate her mastery of the shorthand typewriter, but also because she was keen to climb the ladder of promotion, to intimate that she was his to command for all manner of non-stenographic tasks. Meantime, Naileater gave his impersonation of the soul of discretion who makes a point of not listening. To this end, he remained standing, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his grey top-hat in his hand, the perfection of stillness: dignified, understanding, solemn and honourable. But of course, he did not miss a word of the letter.

  When he had finished, Solal asked the princess to give the letter when typed to Saulnier, who would bring it to him for signing. Furious at being deprived of the opportunity of bringing it herself and of wiggling her hips at him some more, she gave a gracious smile and proceeded to wiggle towards the door. As she went, she was plotting (a) to invite the Deumes, with whom the Under-Secretary-General was on such good terms, to her very next cocktail party, and (b) to go out of her way to be pleasant in future to young Deume whenever she was called to his office to take dictation.

  'Highness,' resumed Naileater, fanning himself with his topp
er, 'is there not at least some privilege, conferred by your munificent bounty, which I who held you in my fond arms when you were an infant might yet enjoy, a diplomatic passport, say, or a special pass? Or might I not in turn be allowed the advantage of a mission, which I should carry out with the dignity of the elephant, with the reliability backed by manufacturer's guarantee of a faithful dog, and with the quickness of the hunted deer or, alternatively, the promptness of the eel, which, though forbidden by our religion, is excellent when suitably smoked? For instance, dear nephew of my good friend Saltiel, I am prepared to volunteer personally to deliver the letter which you have just dictated and of whose import I am ignorant, having forced myself not to listen, into the hands of my lady Deume! As it pleases your Highness! Do let me have a little mission too! For pity's sake, dear brother in religion, else human solidarity will be no more than a vain and empty word! High Excellency, an unforeseen, intestinal imperative forces me to take a hurried leave. I shall return forthwith. Meanwhile I remain respectfully yours in guile,' he grinned and with a gracious bow he went, tenderly holding his abdomen with both hands.

  Minutes later, furnished with several new arguments, he was back. He found Solal poring over the letter which Saulnier had just brought in. He stood and waited discreetly, suddenly saddened by the thought that the King of England would soon cease to be Emperor of India. A terrible shame! Such a splendid title! This Gandhi was an impertinent upstart! But there, what could you expect of a man who hardly ever ate? Solal signed his name and looked up.

  'Intestinal insurrection quelled, Highness. Actually it was a false alarm. You can't always tell with bowels. And, while I'm on the subject, may I take this opportunity to congratulate the League of Nations on its lavatories! Sumptuous, palatial, places of true enchantment! If we had their like on Cephalonia I would happily spend the rest of my life there! With that said, I now launch into my moving peroration, which shall be brief! Highness, please understand that when I return to Cephalonia and people ask me what I accomplished in Geneva I shall die of shame! For what in truth will I tell them? There will be nothing to say, Highness! Nothing!' he repeated, and he held his head in both hands. 'The day before yesterday, weary of my enforced idleness, I journeyed to Berne, a small capital full of vast women who wear black and consume large cakes. Was I not there subjected to the humiliation of being turned away by an imbecile in the pay of the government to whom I had intimated my not unflattering desire to take out Swiss nationality, while not of course ceasing to be French, even unto offering to pay the appropriate fee according to his convenience and requirements! "Now look here, what wrong have I done? And why so censorious?" I shouted at him, ablaze with indignation. "Come now, state your price!" But he was immovable! O exalted Highness, grant that I too might have my own official visit! I ask it for three reasons. Firstly, that I may be avenged on this government clerkling and make his ears to glow when I inform him of my appointment and say unto him: "Now you see who you missed having as a fellow citizen!" Secondly, that I do not lose face with Saltiel! Thirdly, that the mission you entrust to my keeping shall be as honey on my tongue as I speak of it to the assembled population of the green-girt isle where you were born! It was five o'clock in the morning. Dawn was already glazing the distant sky with pink, and the horizon was thronged with freshly minted effulgencies! I was there, anxiously seated on the steps of the palace of the venerable Chief Rabbi who sired you, yes I was there, like a faithful dog, fists pressed to my temples, awaiting in anguished anticipation the announcement of a happy deliverance! And how can I describe what I felt when at last I learned of your dear entry into this world, how should I count the tears of joy I shed at that moment? Have I not softened your heart, Highness? Then listen further to what I say! Kings are fortunate indeed, Excellency, for they are always held in the spotlight at the centre of the world's stage while I remain constantly in the shadows! My heart bleeds when I read of sumptuous receptions, the King greeted with the national anthem, the crowd applauding and moronic soldiers presenting arms! And when he is received by the Pope, what pomp! Swiss guards, princes arrayed in black, smiling cardinals in a row, and such courtesies shown by the Pope to the King! No one dances attendance on me! Not for me the love of the crowd, soldiers bearing arms, or kindly popes! But I would dearly love to have arms presented in my honour! I would take the salute graciously and then retire for a friendly but suitably respectful word with the Pope. Tell me, whatever did this King do to earn all the honours he enjoys in life? Answer: he got himself born! Was I not born too, and born richer far than he, with a greater capacity for joy and despair, more noble of heart, more splendid of brain? And afterwards, mark the sumptuous dinner given by the Pope to honour the King: a thousand candles and endless smoked salmon! But for me, poor Eater of Nails that I am, I have cockroaches in my cellar and, to appease my hunger, a plain dish of boiled potatoes consumed while I shed bitter tears over the menu for their dinner! And when their browsing and sluicing are done and the King is brimful of smoked salmon, the thick part is best because it isn't as salty, the Pope gives him a paternal pat on the cheek, asks him if he wouldn't like just a little more smoked salmon or another helping of squashy chocolate cream cake, and then presents him with the grand cross of some order or other, as if the lucky devil — born of a seed just like me — didn't have a chestful of decorations already! And then there are magnificent toys for the King's children, though they aren't anything like as clever as my own three treasures who get nothing given to them by the Pope, not even a salted pistachio! And then the Pope escorts the King to the door with ceremonious attentions and kissings of cheeks! If I went to see the Pope, would he show me out personally and kiss my cheek? Yet am I not a man born of woman, like the King? Mark these tears, mighty Effendi, mark them well while they are wet, before they evaporate, before they dry on cheeks aflame with the consumption which spares not its prey! The conclusion of my homily, lovely Lord, is therefore to beg you to charge me with a League of Nations mission which will drag me from the shadows and put an end to the injustice which has dogged my life, for being a great man is less important than appearing to be one, and incidentally it would enable me to silence Saltiel when he returns from Lausanne, he'll go around screaming like a seagull to the four winds that he's been made a head of mission, nay even a charge d'affaires, for that is something which in all reason I cannot be expected to tolerate! Ah, but you smile, Highness! I feel that you are swayed! Oh, blessings be upon you!'