The Complete Works of Isaac Babel Reprint Edition by Isaac Babel, Nathalie Babel, Peter Constantine

by Nathalie Babel, Peter Constantine Isaac Babel

  319. Two billiard balls rolling over a billiard table.

  320. A cupped hand is resting on the cushioned rail of the billiard table. A large, well-groomed hand with a diamond ring on its little finger. The cue rolling back and forth in the cup of the palm.

  321. The billiard room of the Imperial. Rogdais impresario, Vittorio Maffi, takes aim at one of the two remaining billiard balls. A large crowd has gathered around the table. Maffi is extremely tall, lean, supple, black-haired, wrinkled. His partner, Herr Kalnischker, exudes gentleness, patience, and dignity Herr Kalnischker is a short man. The lines of his tiny body are round, his stomach bulges, but not too much, his legs patter unhurriedly. Neither player is wearing a jacket. Maffi hits the ball. A miss. He grimaces, steps back, or rather jumps to the side. An old gaffer standing there gaping is hit in the mouth by the end of Maffis cue. Maffi turns around and jams the cue deeper into the mouth of the old man, who is now beside himself with fear, pushing him against the wall.

  322. Herr Kalnischkers small, fat hand on the cushioned rail of the billiard table. A cue is rolling back and forth in the cup of his palm.

  323. The crucified old man with the cue jammed in his mouth. He is

  pressed against the wall. Maffi, unruffled, driving his cue deeper into the mans mouth, turns his back on him.

  324. Kalnischker hits the ball. The ball drops into one of the side pockets. One ball—number fifteen—is left on the billiard table. Kalnischker takes a sip of milk from a glass, puts the glass down unhurriedly, and says:

  325. “THE FIFTEEN: TWO CUSHIONS, CORNER POCKET.,,

  326. With murderous deliberation Kalnischker chalks his cue tip.

  327. Maffis back, his cue jutting out of the old mans mouth. The desperate face of the man, his teeth gnawing at the cue.

  328. Kalnischker, wearing down his partner, spends a lot of time taking aim, pulling back his cue, again taking aim. The ball lies near the opposite cushion of the table. A small man, Kalnischker has to put an inordinate amount of effort into reaching the ball. He leans over the table with his stomach, balancing on tiptoe, one of his tiny legs trembling in the air. Kalnischker hits the ball. The ball drops. Kalnischker bows deeply to his partner.

  329. A grimace flashes over Maffis face. Without turning around, he pulls the cue out of the old mans mouth. The man lunges at Maffi waving his fists, but the others drag him back just in time. Someone tells him:

  330. “ARE YOU MAD? THAT IS VITTORIO MAFFI, IMPRESARIO TO CHALIAPIN AND ROGDAI, HIGH STAKES GAMBLER, AND SWASHBUCKLING DUELIST EXTRAORDINAIRE!”

  331. The old man falls silent and looks around the room. A large tear rolls down his wrinkled cheek, trickles through his beard, and sparkles on the tip of a hair. An attendant comes rushing over and wipes away the tear with a napkin.

  332. Attendants help the players into their jackets. Little Herr Kalnischker takes the gigantic Signor Maffi aside. Herr Kalnischker ingratiatingly tilts his neatly combed head:

  333. “WILL YOU SEE TO IT THAT OUR ACCOUNTS ARE SETTLED, MY DEAR SIGNOR MAFFI?”

  334. Maffi looks down at his partner from the height of his gigantic stature. He is not sure how to proceed—whether to hit Kalnischker or pay him. Kalnischker mumbles even more ingratiatingly:

  335. “WILL YOU SEE TO IT, MY VERY DEAR SIGNOR MAFFI?”

  336. Maffi walks off without uttering a word. He picks up a suitcase he has left by the door, and stalks toward the exit. Kalnischker shuffles after him tenaciously. Maffi turns around and mumbles through clenched teeth:

  337. “COME TO VILLA GRENNIER ON SUNDAY, AND YOU’LL GET YOUR DAMN FIVE HUNDRED MARKS!”

  338. Maffi rushes off. Kalnischker bows to the Italians vanishing back, walks over to the table, and with small sips finishes his glass of milk.

  339. Rogdai is playing for the cleaner, who is snapping his fingers to the rhythm of the tune.

  340. The luxurious lobby of the Hotel Imperial. Maffi, suitcase in hand, hurries up the stairs, three steps at a time. The bellhops and attendants bow to him.

  341. The concierge behind his counter. He looks like Napoleon Bonaparte. He has cultivated this resemblance down to the minutest detail—even a wave of hair lies across his forehead like Napoleons. On the desk, in all its splendor, stands a portrait of Napoleon. A pince-nez is hanging on a wide ribbon on the porter s chest.

  342. The cleaners wooden scaffold and his dangling legs, shot from below.

  343. Rogdai is playing for his simple listener with enthusiasm. The cleaner, filled with bliss, hurls his cap down into the street. Suddenly the window blinds roll down, cutting off Rogdai from the cleaner.

  344. Rogdai turns around. Maffi is standing in the doorway, the cord of the blinds in his hand. Maffi throws his suitcase into the middle of the room, swats his thighs with his riding whip, and mutters through clenched teeth:

  345. IT’S SIX MONTHS NOW THAT THE LITTLE YID RATKOVICH TURNED INTO THE FAMOUS LEO ROGDAI, AND YET THE FAMOUS LEO ROGDAI HAS NO SILK UNDERWEAR, NO THOROUGHBRED HORSES, NO HIGH-SOCIETY MISTRESS! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO TURN INTO A MAN, ROGDAI?”

  346. Maffi walks over to the fireplace, kicking the things strewn on the floor out of his way. He picks up Rachels picture, grimaces, and looks around the room.

  347. Rachel Monko s picture.

  348. Rogdai has flushed a deep crimson. He snatches Rachels picture out of Maffis hand and hides it in one of his jacket pockets. There is a barely noticeable smile on Maffis face. With his riding whip he scoops up one of Rogdais bedroom slippers. On the tip of his whip, the Italian twirls the old slipper with its large hole where the big toe is and throws it out the window.

  349. Rogdais bedroom slipper falls onto the roof of the house next door.

  350. Maffi points at the suitcase he has brought with him.

  351. “THIS IS FOR YOU—TO HELP TURN YOU INTO A MAN!”

  352. Rogdai opens the suitcase, takes out of it a saddle and a revolver. He stares at Maffi with a dumbfounded look on his face. The Italian taps his own legs with his whip.

  353. “YES! YES! BE A MAN!”

  354. Rogdai continues unpacking the suitcase. He takes out a bottle of cologne, razors, a mustache night-band, ladies’ garters, frilled bloomers, and another item that the young man immediately throws back into the suitcase. Maffi stamps his foot:

  355. “BE A MAN!”

  356. Rogdai pulls a bottle of absinthe out of the suitcase. Maffi pours two glasses, hands one to Rogdai, and shouts fiercely:

  357. “CHILDREN DRINK MILK, HORSES WATER, AND MEN DRINK ABSINTHE! BE A MAN!”

  358. Rogdai, perplexed, clinks glasses with the impresario, who shouts:

  359. “A TOAST TO MANHOOD!”

  360. They drink. Maffis powerful, long leg is resting on the leather armchair, the cushions sinking deeper and deeper under its weight. The leather cracks, the springs come bouncing out.

  361. Rogdai drinks down his glass of absinthe, sways. The Italian pours him another and makes him drink it. Maffis face, distorted by a sudden tic, imperiously watches Rogdai drink. The young man drinks down the whole glass, sways, laughs. Maffi leans over Rogdai.

  362. “AND NOW, MY YOUNG WHIPPERSNAPPER, WE SHALL GO TO A WOMAN WHO WILL MAKE YOU A MAN!”

  363. Maffis face slowly turns toward the viewer, who can now see that one of his ears has been chopped off.

  364. The cheek where the ear has been chopped off. Cut.

  365. The lobby of the Hotel Imperial. The concierge who resembles Napoleon is studying himself in the mirror. He fixes his Napoleonic lock of hair and lifts the telephone receiver.

  366. A placement agency for maids and wet nurses. Three sleepy German wet nurses are sitting by the wall. All three have their hands clasped over their bellies: they are propping up their heavy breasts with their fat workers’ hands. The proprietress of the agency is sitting at her desk. She is a gaunt German woman with yellow puffed-up hair and an unblinking glass eye. The telephone rings. She lifts the receiver. Her face uncoils like a long spring, a
t the end of which is a gush of prefabricated delight.

  367. The concierge on the telephone:

  368. “GOOD MORNING, FRAU PUTZKE. I NEED A CHEAP WASHERWOMAN AND AN EVEN CHEAPER BOILER-ROOM STOKER.”

  369. Frau Putzke s eyes. One eye is boisterously twirling in its orb, the other, her glass eye, rests in blue immobility.

  369a.Frau Putzke bows and shakes the receiver:

  370. “I AM EXPECTING A GROUP OF RUSSIAN IMMIGRANTS FROM KOENIGSBERG ANY DAY NOW. THEY ARE DREADFUL PEOPLE, BUT VERY, VERY CHEAP.”

  371. One of the wet nurses falls asleep. Her hands unclasp and her immense breasts tumble down, covering her stomach.

  372. The concierge agrees to take on two of the “dreadful” but cheap people. He places the receiver back on the hook and busies himself with filling out bills, but his counter is wobbling, one its legs is a little shorter than the others.

  373. Maffi walks down the stairs with Rogdai, who is tipsy.

  374. Maffis car comes speeding around the corner. In its quavering headlights, an old postman, somewhat hard of hearing, staggers from side to side. The car rolls up to the entrance of the hotel.

  375. Maffi and Rogdai make their way toward the car. Rogdai, drunk, stops the postman, lays his hand on the postmans shoulder, and asks him with a blissful smile:

  376. “WERE YOU EVER A HAPPY MAN, MISTER POSTMAN?”

  377. The startled postman hasn’t quite caught what Rogdai said. He is a little hard of hearing. He is holding a packet of letters and newspapers. The old man quickly pulls some cotton wool out of his ears.

  378. A close-up of the newspapers that the postman is holding. The first lines of a classified advertisement: “Immigrant Rachel Monko seeks ...”

  379. Rogdai laughs and repeats his question. The postman shrugs his shoulders. Was he ever happy? Not really. The postman bows to the tipsy gentlemen, stuffs the cotton wool back in his ears, and enters the hotel.

  380. Maffi and Rogdai get into the car and are driven off.

  381. In the lobby of the hotel. The postman places the pile of letters and newspapers on the concierges counter, and leaves. The concierge is engrossed in his work, infuriated by the counters constant gobbling. He tears a piece from one of the newspapers that the postman has just delivered, and jams it under the counter’s leg. Now his counter is stable. A shred of newspaper has fallen and is lying nearby.

  382. A close-up of the torn shred of newspaper. It is the beginning of the advertisement:

  383. IMMIGRANT RACHEL MONKO, HAVING FINISHED HER TERM IN A LABOR CAMP IN NERCHINSK, IS SEEKING LEV RATKOVICH FROM DERAZHNY IN VOLHYNIA. PLEASE SEND ANY INFORMATION TO THE FOLLOWING ADDRESS: KOENIGSB ...

  384. The concierge is writing, leaning on the counter that is no longer wobbling.

  385. The sparkling; lights of Berlin by night. High up, a rotating elec-trie circle: LEO ROGDAI.

  386. Maffi’s car weaves through a stream of carriages, trams, and trucks.

  387. The inside of the car. Drunken Rogdai and Maffi are playing a high-stakes card game. Money is lying on the floor of the car. The car jolts, but the players dont even notice. Their heads bang against the roof as they continue playing.

  388. A heavy jolt. Rogdai flies up, his top hat rams into a hook jutting down from the roof of the car and stays hanging there. Rogdai pulls out one banknote after another and throws them onto the seat. His top hat is hanging a foot over his head. Maffi is keeping the bank.

  389. The driver turns his head and looks back. Smiling, he watches the unusual game.

  390. The game continues. Maffi is winning.

  391. Far away on the black backdrop of the sky, the rotating electric letters—LEO ROGDAI—receding in the distance.

  392. Rogdai throws down a bundle of banknotes, among them the picture of Rachel Monko. Rogdai, drunk, does not notice her picture. Maffis large hand covers the money. He deals the cards, wins, and rakes the banknotes together, brushing the photograph aside.

  393. The entrance of Villa Grennier. An electric lamp hangs above the sign: VILLA GRENNIER.

  394. A walk lined with plane trees. A shaft of light. The illuminated leaves of the trees. Maffis car speeds up a hill.

  395. The inside of the car. Rachel’s picture is lying on the floor. Rogdai pulls his top hat off the hook, and flops it crookedly onto his head.

  396. Maffi’s car pulls up to the entrance of Villa Grennier. Maffi and Rogdai go inside.

  397. The lobby of Baroness Grennier’s home. The doorman, a well-built fellow with a handsome, dubious face, opens the door. Rogdai and Maffi enter and hand their coats to the doorman.

  398. The coat stand in Baroness Grennier’s front hall. A row of top hats.

  399. The top hats shot from above—the dull sheen on the black silk. There is a hole in Rogdai’s top hat.

  400. Maffi hurries up the stairs, three steps at a time.

  401. The doorman asks Rogdai—“Whom may I announce?”

  402. “TELL THE BARONESS THAT ROGDAI IS HERE.”

  403. A painting of Christ lit with mysterious, dull light. The painting is by an Italian master of the quattrocento. Just below Christs pierced feet are the heads of two adolescent girls with luxuriant ribbons in their hair, leaning over their embroidery.

  404. Evening. Baroness Grennier s salon. The decor is simple, rich, dignified, and elegant. A mellow pastor is reading from Alphonse Daudets Tartarin ofTarascon*

  405. The books title page.

  406. Listening to the pastor are: the old baroness, a majestic woman with a solemn face, and her two adolescent daughters (luxuriant ribbons in their hair, low-heeled slippers on their feet, and so on). The old woman is listening carefully. On her lips is a gentle smile, barely visible. Her daughters are giggling. Two elderly aristocratic gentlemen with rosettes are standing near the opposite wall. One is thin and lanky, with a rich mane of hair, the other corpulent and squat, with a bald patch—and yet, in an elusive way, they resemble one another. The doorman enters and announces:

  407. “THE COUNT DE ROGDAI.”

  408. The baroness puts down her embroidery and walks up to her guest. The elderly gentlemen with the rosettes assume a dignified air. The pastor stops reading. The baroness introduces Rogdai to her daughters.

  409. “IT IS A GREAT HONOR INDEED TO MEET SUCH A FAMOUS VIRTUOSO!”

  410. The girls curtsy. The baroness introduces Rogdai to the pastor, and then to the thin elderly gentleman.

  411. “COUNT SAN SALVADOR.”

  412. Rogdai and the thin elderly gentleman bow to each other with the utmost punctiliousness. The baroness introduces Rogdai to the squat elderly gentleman.

  413. “BARON SANTIAGO.”

  414. Rogdai and the squat elderly gentleman bow to each other with the utmost punctiliousness. Rogdai is offered a chair, and asked to listen to the reading of Tartarin ofTarascon.

  415. A hallway in the Villa Grennier. Maffi walks up to a door, knocks, and shouts, “Open up!”

  416. A corner in the room of Helene, one of Baroness Grenniers daughters. A mirror. Helenes exquisite bare shoulders are visible in the mirror.

  417. Helene, half dressed. She is young and very beautiful. She has heard the knock on her door. She rushes in distress to her closet, riffles frantically through her dresses, and throws them on the floor. The pile of dresses on the floor. Helene stops at a simple black dress.

  418. Maffi outside the closed door. He is swatting his whip against his leg. Helene comes out of her room. With superb maidenly grace, she stretches both hands out to Maffi. Her feeling of strength, youth, and beauty fills her with joy. Maffi mutters something to her, takes her by the hand, and slowly turns her around.

  419. “WHAT A HORRIBLE DRESS!”

  420. he says, swatting his whip harder and harder against his leg. Helene staggers back.

  421. A close-up of the painting of Christ. A girl, one of the baronesss daughters, is peering carefully through a lorgnette at. . .

  422. . . . Rogdai squirming in his armch
air.

  423. The pastor is reading with rapture. When he comes to a particularly wonderful passage, he raises his finger.

  424. The velvet curtain separating the salon from the adjacent room is drawn apart. Helenes face, dazzling and pale, appears.

  425. Maffi enters the salon followed by Helene, who is wearing a low-cut dress. A long sash embroidered with gold thread is trailing behind her on the floor. Rogdai jumps up. He is staring at Helene. Maffi, swatting his whip, says to Helene:

  426. “HERE, STANDING BEFORE YOU, BARONESS, IS LEO ROGDAI IN PERSON, WHOSE PHENOMENAL MASTERY OF THE VIOLIN ...”

  427. The young man cannot tear his dazzled eyes from Helene. He slowly kisses her hand. At that very instant, the doorman hands him Rachels picture.

  428. “THE GENTLEMAN DROPPED THIS,” the doorman says with a bow. Embarrassed, Rogdai takes the picture and puts it in his pocket. Helene turns and looks at Maffi, her eyes filled with fear and adoration.

  art SiX

  429. A Christmas tree is standing on the table. Little ornaments are hanging on the branches.

  430. In Baroness Grennier’s salon. Rogdai, Helene, and her younger sister Augusta are decorating the tree. They are pulling Christmas favors in a happy, playful mood.

  431. Helene climbs onto the table, places a Santa Claus on top of the Christmas tree, and strews artificial snow over it. Rogdai is arranging the candles. He stops and gazes at laughing, rosy-cheeked Helene. His gaze is very tender.

  432. The front hall of the baronesss home. The doorman is polishing his nails.

  433. Little Herr Kalnischker rings the doorbell.

  434. The doorman lets him in. Kalnischker asks him:

  435. “IS SIGNOR MAFFI IN?”

  436. The doorman is not favorably impressed with Kalnischker. Not deigning to answer, he continues polishing his nails, and mumbles offhand:

  437. “SIGNOR MAFFI IS NOT RECEIVING VISITORS.”

  438. Little Herr Kalnischker is not in the least discouraged by the doormans chilly reception. He bows and says meekly:

  439. “I SHALL WAIT.”

  440. Kalnischker unhurriedly takes off his coat, tries to hang it on the coat rack, but does not manage, as he is too short to reach the hook. He pushes a velvet footstool to the coat rack, climbs onto it, hangs his coat and his bowler hat, and sits on a high armchair that is standing to the side. His short little legs do not reach the floor. There is an expression of unflappable patience on his face.