Death on Credit

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  Finally he thawed… In fact he was frankly excited… enthusiastic… exultant… He even stuttered with impatience… He came right out with it: “I believe, my dear little young man, that I shall be able to do something for you…” And he went on in his sing-song…

  He knew an art lover near the Luxembourg… A very respectable gentleman… A real scholar… who was crazy about high-class artistic ornaments… exactly my style… This guy was a Manchu, he was here on vacation… He filled me in… I mustn’t talk too loud… He couldn’t stand noise of any kind… He gave me his address… It wasn’t a very good hotel, it was on the Rue Soufflot… All the Chinaman on the Rue Saint-Lazare wanted for himself was a little “present”… if I got the order… Only five per cent… It wasn’t too much… I signed his little paper… I didn’t waste a second… I even jumped into the Odéon bus on the Rue des Martyrs.

  * * *

  I tracked down my art lover. I show him my boxes, I introduce myself. I dig out my samples. He’s even more slant-eyed than the other guy… He’s wearing a long dress too. He’s delighted with my stuff… He makes a whole speech about his pleasure at discovering such beautiful things…

  Then he shows me on the map where he came from… From the end of the world… even a little farther, way off in the left-hand margin… This was the Mandarin on vacation… He wanted something beautiful to take home with him, except he wanted to have it engraved to order… He’d even selected his model, he just had to have it… He wanted me to make it up for him… A real order!… He explained where I could go to copy it… It was in the Galliera Museum, on the second floor, in the middle showcase… I couldn’t go wrong, he made me a little sketch. He wrote the name in big letters: sakya-muni, it was called… the god of happiness!… He wanted an exact copy of it for a tiepin, because back home, as he told me: “I dress in the European style. I’m the chief justice!”

  He’d got this idea… He was very trusting. He gave me two hundred francs just like that to buy the gold with… It was more convenient. That way we wouldn’t lose any time…

  I can swear I made a face like Buddha myself when I took those two bills… This weird way of doing things knocked me for a loop… I staggered on my way down the boulevard… I was so dizzy I almost got myself run over…

  Finally I get to the Rue Elzévir… I tell the whole story… What luck when we’d given up hoping!… Engraving was coming back! Gorloge had been right!… We drank on it!… Everybody hugged and kissed me!… Everybody made up!… We went out and changed the two hundred francs! There was only a hundred and fifty left…

  * * *

  Gorloge and I went to the museum to sketch the famous trinket. He was mighty interesting in his little case, all alone, still as a mouse, on a little camp chair, laughing to himself, holding a shepherd’s crook…

  We took our time, we copied our sketch and reduced it one to a hundred… We made a little model… It all went off fine. Then Robert and I dashed over to the Comptoir Judéo-Suisse on the Rue Francœur for some eighteen-carat gold, a hundred francs’ worth at one throw, and fifty francs’ worth of solder… We put the little ingot away carefully, we double-locked the safe… That hadn’t happened in four years… keeping metal overnight on the Rue Elzévir… When the model was finished, we sent it to be cast… Three times they messed it up… they had to start all over again… Founders never know what they’re doing!… The time passed… We were getting annoyed… And then finally they caught on. All in all, it wasn’t bad… The god was beginning to shape up… It only needed to be finished, polished and engraved…

  Then we had lousy luck… The cops come looking for Gorloge… The whole house is in an uproar… On account of his four weeks of military service… No further postponement was possible… He’d already had too many… He couldn’t miss the big manoeuvres… No two ways about it, he’d have to leave the “god of happiness” unfinished… It wasn’t the kind of job you could do in a hurry… It needed fine finishing…

  Since there was no way out, this is what Gorloge decided. Antoine would finish the job… he’d take his time… and I’d deliver it… There was only another hundred francs to collect… Gorloge would collect in person!… He made that very clear!… When he got back from his hitch… He was awfully suspicious.

  If our Chinaman liked it, we’d make more, we’d make a whole pile of Sakya-Munis in solid gold! What could stop us? The future, as we saw it, was one glowing sunrise… Why wouldn’t the renascence of engraved ornaments come to us from the Far East?… Why not? Our whole stairway, stairway B, was buzzing with our story, all the little tinkers upstairs and downstairs were flabbergasted at our luck, they couldn’t get over it! What a windfall! There were rumours that we were getting cheques from Peking.

  Gorloge hung around to the last minute. He was building up to a mess of trouble. He and Antoine took turns working on the little character. There were crazy details, things so small, so tiny you couldn’t see them properly even with the magnifying glass. The little chair… the shepherd’s crook… and especially his little puss… it was hard to catch that tiny little smile! They were still scraping away particles with a fine tool, as sharp as a fingernail… He was almost done… It was a perfect copy! But even so, maybe Antoine had better give it a little more thought… go back to it in four or five days… Then it would be really first class…

  Finally Gorloge made up his mind to get going, it was high time. The cops had been back again…

  The next day when I got there, I saw him… He was dolled up like a soldier from top to toe… The enormous floating cape, with the two buttons so you could turn up the corners like a sack of French fries… the kepi with the green pompon and the bright-red pants that went with it… That’s what he was wearing when he went downstairs… Little Robert carried his musette bag. It was packed mighty full… there were three Camemberts, so much “alive” that everybody made remarks… And two litres of white wine and some smaller bottles, an assortment of socks… and his woollen nightgown for sleeping in the open…

  The neighbours all came trooping down in denims and slippers… They were all hawking like mad, spitting all over the doormats… They wished him luck. I took Gorloge to the station, I left him outside the Gare de l’Est, on the corner of the Boulevard Magenta. He was worried about having to leave right now, with this job on hand. He kept giving me instructions. It burned him up that he couldn’t finish it himself… Finally he said goodbye… He told me to be good… He followed the sign… The whole place was full of soldiers… Some of the guys said we were blocking the traffic with our gabfest… I had to beat it…

  When I got back to the Rue Elzévir, I passed by the lodge. The concierge calls me:

  “Hey!” she says. “Come in here a minute, Ferdinand!… So he’s gone?… So he finally made up his mind! Well anyway, he won’t be cold out there! They’ll make it plenty hot for him! It’s a good thing he took all those bottles. ’Cause they’re going to make it mighty rough for him! Whew! The bastards! They’ll make your cuckold sweat!…”

  She said all that to get me started, to make me talk. I didn’t answer. I was fed up on gossip. That’s God’s truth! I was getting to be very cautious… I was right… But I wasn’t cautious enough!… As I was soon to find out.

  * * *

  Once the boss was gone, little Robert couldn’t contain himself. He was determined to see Antoine and the boss’s wife fucking. He said it would happen, it was bound to… He was a natural-born peeping Tom.

  The first week we didn’t see much… So’s to keep the shop running it was me that went over to the Rue de Provence and down the boulevard looking for repair work… I brought back what I found. It was barely enough. I didn’t tote my collection around any more. That would have made them throw me out.

  Antoine went on fussing with the little priest, he was doing fine. He knew his business. About the second week the boss’s wife suddenly began to change. She’d al
ways been kind of stand-offish when Gorloge was there, she hardly ever spoke to me. All of a sudden she began to be friendly, ingratiating, intimate. At first I thought there was something phoney about it. But I kept my suspicions to myself… I decided maybe it was because I was getting to be more useful… Because I was bringing in little jobs… Still, they weren’t getting us any dough… not one of our bills had been paid…

  Gorloge, who was always suspicious… had made it very clear that we weren’t to collect a single note! He’d do all that when he got back. He’d notified the customers.

  One morning I came in early and found Mme Gorloge already up, roaming around the room… She pretended to be looking for something by the workbench… She was wearing a swishy dressing gown… For my money she was acting pretty weird… She comes close. She says to me:

  “Ferdinand, on your way home from your errands this evening, be a good boy and bring me a little bunch of flowers. It’ll cheer the place up…” She heaves a sigh… “Since my husband went away, I haven’t had the heart to go out.”

  She waggled her arse around the room. She was putting on a seduction act. That was plain. The door to her bedroom was wide open… I could see her bed… I didn’t bat an eyelash… I didn’t make a move… Antoine and Robert came up from the café… I didn’t breathe a word…

  That evening I brought back three peonies. That was all I could afford. There wasn’t any money left in the till. As far as I was concerned it was plenty. I knew I’d never be paid back.

  * * *

  And then Antoine gets polite too, almost pally… when only a week before he’d done nothing but yell at us… He was perfectly charming… He didn’t even want me to go out any more, to go looking for work…

  “Take it easy!…” he said. “Stick around the shop… Watch us work, you’ll learn something!… You’ll make your rounds later!…”

  In spite of all our shilly-shallying the pin was finished… it came back from the polishers. It was my job to deliver it… Just then the boss’s wife gets a letter from Gorloge… he said we shouldn’t hurry… we should keep the pin a while… wait for him to get back. He’d take it to the Chinaman himself… Meanwhile if I felt like it, I could show it to some of our customers, the ones that would appreciate it…

  Right away I began to feel worried! Everybody admired the little character, that’s a fact… He looked real good on his little throne, Sakya-Muni in solid gold!… Eighteen carats after all, that meant something in those days! You couldn’t have asked for anything finer!… All our neighbours came around and complimented us… and some of them were connoisseurs… It was an honour to the house!… Our customer could have no cause for complaint!… Gorloge was going to be away for another ten days… That left me plenty of time to show it around the shops…

  “Ferdinand!” the boss’s wife advised me. “Why don’t you leave it here at night, in your drawer? Nobody’ll touch it, you know! You can pick it up again in the morning!”

  I preferred to keep it in my pocket and take it home with me. That struck me as much more conscientious… I even fastened it with safety pins, a great big one and two little ones, one on each side… Everybody laughed. “He won’t lose it!” they said.

  * * *

  The way our shop was situated, right under the tiles, it was awfully hot, even at the end of September the heat was so bad we were always drinking.

  One afternoon Antoine went off his rocker from guzzling so much. He was singing so loud you could hear him all over the court as far as the concierge’s lodge at the other end… He’d brought up some absinthe and a lot of little cakes. We all nibbled. Robert and I put all the little bottles out under the faucet on the landing to cool. We bought them on credit, whole baskets full… There was trouble though… The grocers got mean… It was crazy in a way… We’d all gone berserk, it was the hot weather and the freedom.

  The boss’s wife joined us. Antoine sat down right beside her. We laughed to see them necking. He went looking for her garters. He lifted her skirts up. She was giggling like a goat. She was irritating as hell, you wanted to sock her… He pulled out one of her tits. She just sat there beaming. He poured out the rest of the bottle. Robert and I finished it. We licked the glass. It was better than Banyuls… In the end everybody was wasted… the frenzy of the senses… Antoine hiked up her skirts completely… at one stroke… way over her head!… He got up too and just as she was, all bundled up in her skirts, he pushed her into the bedroom. She was still laughing… She had the giggles… They closed the door behind them… She went right on cackling.

  The time had come for Robert and me to climb up on the kitchen stove and watch the show… It was a good place… ringside… You could see the whole bed… we couldn’t miss a trick. Right away Antoine pushed the fat mama down on her knees… He was awfully brutal… She had her arse up in the air… He tickled and teased her… He couldn’t find her pussy… He tore her ruffles… he tore everything in sight… And then he attacked. He took out his cock… He began to charge her… And it was no make-believe… I hadn’t expected he could be so wild… I couldn’t get over it. He was grunting like a pig… She was making noises too… Louder and more piercing every time he charged. Robert had told me the truth about her arse… We could see it good now… All red… enormous, scarlet!…

  Her fine lace panties were all in tatters… and sopping wet… Antoine was coming in like a battering ram… You could hear the smack… They wrestled like savages… The way he was going at her I was sure he’d kill her… His trousers were dragging on the floor… His smock was still in his way, he ripped it off with one tug… It fell right next to us… He was naked now… Except he still had his slippers on, the boss’s, the ones with the embroidered kittens…

  He was so excited he skidded on the carpet… He banged his head against the bar of the bed… he was madder than a hornet… he felt his head… he had bumps. He slipped out… He bounded back in a fury. “You stinking bitch!” he bellows at her. “You lousy whore!” He drives his knee into her ribs!… She tries to get away, she begins to simper and moan…

  “Antoine, oh, Antoine darling, I can’t stand it!… Stop, I implore you!… Be careful!… Don’t make me a kid! I’m wringing wet…” That was for the birds, she was asking for more!…

  “Go on, you old cow, shut your trap! Open your basket!…” He didn’t listen to her. He put her back on the end of his cock again with three enormous clouts in the gizzard… Bam! they resounded… She gasped for breath, the stinker… She wheezed like a bellows… I wondered if he was going to kill her… finish her off on the spot!… He gave her another vicious clout… right while he was pumping… They were both roaring like wild animals… She was coming… Robert was green around the gills. We climbed down off our diving board. We went back to the workbench… We didn’t say a word… We’d wanted a show… we’d had our money’s worth!… Except it was dangerous… The corrida was still going on. We went down to the court… to get the pail and brooms, supposedly to clean up… We went in to see the concierge, we thought that was a better place to be in case he strangled her…

  * * *

  There was no tragedy and no corpse… They came out beaming… we just had to get used to it!…

  The next few days we ordered provisions from all over, from three different grocers, on the Rue des Écouffes and the Rue Beaubourg, who didn’t know us yet… We set up a whole food reserve and quite a cellar too, beer and sparkling Malvoisin, all on credit. We were becoming crooks…

  I found excuses for not eating with my folks at home. It was getting to be something on the Rue Elzévir, we never stopped stuffing ourselves. We didn’t do a lick of work. In the afternoon, about four o’clock, Robert and I would wait for the corrida to start… We weren’t scared any more… It didn’t excite us so much either.

  Besides, Antoine was weakening, the fight had gone out of him, the least little effort was making him winded… He star
ted over ten times… He wallowed between her buttocks… He made her go down on her knees… He propped up her belly with the duvet. He brought her head up onto the pillows… It was an odd position… He grabbed her hair… She emitted some nasty sighs…

  But it wasn’t enough… He wanted to take her up the arse… She began to resist… to fight him off. Then his fury came back… It was a regular circus… She was braying like a jackass!… He kept skidding every time he tried… He couldn’t get it in any more… So he jumps out of bed and heads straight for the kitchen… Luckily, being as we were on top of the stove, he didn’t see us, he was too hot and bothered… He went right by and began rummaging around inside the cupboard, just like that, mother-naked in his slippers… He was looking for the butter dish… his cock kept bumping into things:

  “Ow ouch, oh oh ouch!…” he kept yelping. We were in stitches… Christ, it was funny… we thought we’d explode…

  “The butter, damn it, the butter!…”

  Finally he found his dish… He took a whole ladleful… He went back with a whole mess of it… He runs back to the bed quick… She was putting on airs again… wriggling and writhing… He buttered her arse, the whole thing, the hole and all around it, slowly and very carefully, like a specialist… She was all shiny!… He had no trouble… He took her by storm… It went in easy… The excitement was terrific… They let out piercing yells… They collapsed on their sides. Then flat on their backs… They went to sleep…

  It wasn’t any fun any more…

  * * *

  The first ones to make a stink were the grocers on the Rue Berce… They refused to give us any more food on the cuff… They came around with their bills… We heard them coming up… We didn’t answer…