Death on Credit

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  That was the way they listened!… There wasn’t any point in my going on… Luckily I was able to give them the slip!… I hid behind the kiosk. I shouted “Help!” with all my might!… But it was too late… Nobody could hear me in the gardens with all the thunder and lightning… Outside our door the carnage was at its height! It was like I’d stirred them up with my words, made them madder than ever!… This was the climax!… They undo the harness!… They come out from the shaft… They aim the infernal machine straight across the pavement… with the tip against our shopfront!… The clamour redoubles… The lunatics from all the Galeries and environs rally around the bell… The whole mob brace themselves!… “One! Two! And yoop! Heave-ho!” The crowd heaves!… With one swing they drive the whole catapult through the window!… Everything flies into smithereens!… The woodwork gives way, cracks, scatters… The whole place is wrecked!… An avalanche of glass!… The monster drives in, forces its way, vacillates, crashes! A torrent of plaster! The whole Génitron caves in!… Our winding staircase, the investors’ corner, the Tunisian mezzanine… There’s barely time to see it all collapsing in a cataract of papers, followed by an explosion of dust!… Then an enormous cloud flies up, the gardens, all four Galeries are filled with whiteness… The hordes are choking, enveloped in plaster… They spit, they cough, they gag! That doesn’t prevent them from propelling their monster… The ironwork… the mirrors… the ceilings join the cascade!… The bell staggers! The floor gives way, cracks, gapes open… The horrible machine teeters, dances at the edge of the precipice!… Tips… falls to the bottom… Christ!… It’s the end of the world!… Thunder all the way up to the sky!… Suddenly a blast of awful piercing screams stops the mob in their tracks!… The gardens are veiled in dense dust… Finally the police turn up… they grope their way to the scene… They draw a cordon around the wreckage… More bulls come running… They charge!… The rioters break up… scatter!… Over by the restaurant they start galloping again… They’re all shivering with the excitement…

  The cops clear the onlookers away from the disaster site!… I knew all the rioters!… I could turn in the whole lot of them! It would be a cinch… I know who is the meanest of the whole gang! The rottenest, the most violent! The biggest stinker of them all! I know some who’d be in for ten years! That’s right! But I don’t go for vengeance much! It would only make things a little lousier than they are!… That’s all… Better attend to urgent business!… I run into the crowd, I pass from group to group… I make myself known to the cops… “Have you seen the boss? Courtial des Pereires?” I ask in all directions!…

  Nobody’s seen him! I’d left him at noon!… Suddenly I catch sight of the superintendent… the one from the Rue des Bons-Enfants… The exact same little punk that had been running us ragged!… I go up to him… I tell him the boss has disappeared… He listens… He’s sceptical… “You think so?…” he says… He doesn’t believe me… “I’m positive!”… So he climbs down one side of the crevice with me… We both of us search… I yell!… I call!… “Courtial! Courtial!… Get up! Get up!” The cops yell too… Once! Twice! Ten times!… I go around the edge of every hole!… I lean down over the abyss!… “If you ask me,” the jerk says, “he’s at the whorehouse!” They were going to give up… when suddenly I hear a voice!

  “Ferdinand! Ferdinand! You got a ladder?”

  It’s him! It’s him all right! He surfaces from a deep pile of rubble… He fights his way out!… His face is full of flour… We throw him a strong rope… He catches hold… we hoist! We pull him out of the crater!… Unharmed, he assures us!… He was only taken by surprise, wedged, squeezed, absolutely blocked between the bell and the wall!… But we can’t find his lid!… That vexes him at first… He blusters… His frock coat has suffered!… He doesn’t press the point… He refuses any kind of first aid… He refuses to go to the pharmacy… Then he gets snotty with the cops… “I shall bring action, gentlemen,” he says just like that… Then without waiting for an answer, he climbs over the rail and the beams and the wreckage… We’re outside. “Make way!… Make way!…” He pushes through the crowd. His frock coat has lost its tails… He’s completely defrocked… He’s all powdery, he looks like a Pierrot. The stuffing drops out as he runs… he only runs harder… He drags me towards the exit on the Louvre side… He clutches my sleeve. He’s trembling something awful… He’s not the old high-and-mighty…

  “Come on, come on, Ferdinand! Make it snappy! Take a look behind us! Nobody’s followed us?… You’re sure? Keep on moving, boy!… We’ll never come back here! Not to this joint… It’s an infamous trap! You can take my word for it! It’s an obvious conspiracy… I’ll write a letter to the landlord!”

  * * *

  Now that our office was all smashed up, I had no place to sleep… So we decided I’d move out to Montretout!… We looked in at the Insurrection… He couldn’t take the train with his coat in rags!… The owner was kind enough to lend him an old suit… We had a little chat with two nutcases… Courtial’s pants were full of holes… They had to be mended… Everybody’d seen the riot, heard the screams and all the hoopla… they were all excited!… Even Formerly joined in… He wanted to do something for us, to take up a collection… I told him we didn’t need it!… It would have given me a pain to accept!… I said we had some money left! He’d made a pretty pile out of my old man!… He could afford to be generous!… So he paid for the drinks, another round, and then still another.

  It was getting kind of hot… It was the end of June… With all that awful dust and talking so much our throats were mighty parched… we must have drunk at least ten, twelve bottles… We were zigzagging as we left… It was very late!… We were still pretty excited!… We barely caught the last train out of the Gare du Nord!…

  In Montretout luckily the sky was full of stars!… And even a little moonlight! We could almost see the way… Even so, to keep from going wrong on the pathways of Montretout, especially up on the hill, you had to be mighty careful!… At that time street lamps or road signs were unheard of!… It was only by dead reckoning, by instinct, by the feel of it that you could steer your way in among the shacks… It was mighty dangerous… There were always nearly four or five murders every year as a result of tragic blunders!… People that got lost… or wise guys… that picked the wrong house!… That went up to the gate and rang the bell when they shouldn’t have!… The poor stupid bastards would get themselves riddled with bullets… from service revolvers, from Lebel carbines… and in two seconds flat the neighbourhood dogs would finish them off… It was a ruthless collection of the most ferocious carnivorous mongrels… horribly aggressive, trained specially for the purpose… They’d bound to the kill… There wouldn’t be anything left of the poor devil… I’d better explain, though, that this was just when the Bonnot gang* were doing their stuff, they’d been terrorizing the whole north-western suburbs for the last six months, and they were still at large!…

  Everybody was in a panic, suspicious as hell… Once the door was shut, those people didn’t know father or mother… It was no time to be getting lost!…

  Your worried cottager, your rich miser would spend the night peering out through the blinds, sleeping with one eye open, clutching his gun!…

  At the first sign, the crafty burglar, the shifty tramp could consider himself strung up, rubbed out, extinguished!… They’d have needed a miracle to get their balls out of there!… Those people were vigilant all right, and the darkness was murder…

  Under the station shelter Courtial didn’t feel easy in his mind!… He was thinking about the hike ahead of us… the assorted ambushes… He stopped to think a minute!… Then “Let’s go!”… After the first few steps on the road he began to whistle good and loud… kind of like yodelling!… That was his rallying tune… It was supposed to identify us in the danger spots!… We plunged into the night… The road got very soft, full of holes and mush!… We could vaguely make out shapes in the darkness… the ou
tlines of shacks… At every fence the dogs barked and bayed and howled at us… The mob was venting its rage… We walked as fast as possible, but then it began to rain! A sea of molasses! The road climbed in zigzags.

  “We’re heading for the top of Montretout!…” he informed me… “The summit… Wait till you see the view!”

  Their house, La Gavotte, was the highest point in the region. He’d often told me it looked out over the whole countryside!… He could see the whole of Paris from his bedroom… He began to be out of breath!… Still, the mud wasn’t thick! Supposing it was winter!… Then a little farther, after the bend, I made out signals, a lamp moving… up and down… “That’s my wife!” he cries out… “She’s talking to me in code: S… T… I… N… One down! Two up!” Anyway, we knew we were on the right road!… We were still climbing though… We went faster and faster!… Exhausted and panting, we come up to the house… Our old battleaxe with her lantern comes running down from her platform… she jumps on the boss… She’s good and mad… she wouldn’t let me get a word in… She’d been making signals after every train since eight o’clock and then some!… She’s really in a dither… And besides, what was I doing there? I wasn’t expected!… What was the big idea?… She keeps firing questions at us… all of a sudden she notices that he’s changed his rig!… We were too dog-tired to break it to her gently!… Balls!… We go in… We sit down in the first room… We give it to her straight! Naturally, when he was so late she’d been expecting some kind of trouble… But now this total disaster, we couldn’t have told her anything worse!… Bang! Right square in the nut!… It knocked her cold… her whole face began to tremble, even her moustache… She couldn’t get out a sound!… Finally the tears unwound her…

  “So it’s all over, Courtial?… Tell me, is it all over?…” She collapsed onto her chair… I thought she was going to conk out… The two of us were standing there… we got ready to lay her out on the floor!… I got up to open the window… But she comes to… She’s frantic!… She jumps up from her chair, quivering all over!… She pulls herself together… She hadn’t been out for long! She’s up again! She wobbles a bit on her pins… She steadies herself… She gives a hefty clout on the table… on the oilcloth…

  “Christ almighty! It’s too much!” she yells all of a sudden…

  “Too much! Too much! You said it!…” He’s off the handle too. He stands right up to her… He’s not going to take it lying down… He clucks like a rooster…

  “Ah, it’s too much!… Too much, you say?… Well, my dear, I regret nothing!… No, absolutely!… Nothing, nothing!…”

  “Ah, you miserable stinker! You regret nothing?… You’re perfectly happy, aren’t you?… And what about the house? Have you thought about the payments? They’ll be coming back on Saturday, my friend!… Saturday, not a day more!… Have you got those twelve hundred francs?… Have you got them on you?… We promised!… They’re expecting them!… They’re coming at twelve! Have you got them on you?… Not at one o’clock, at twelve!”

  “Balls and counterballs! To hell with your cottage!… You know what you can do with it?… The events have set me free… Do you understand that, you blockhead?… No bitterness or rancour! No debts or protests!… To hell with it all! Do you hear? I shit on the whole business! Yes!…”

  “Shit! Shit! Debts! Debts! All I want to know is whether you’ve got the money on you, you big jerk!… Ferdinand, he’s got six hundred smackers in all, I know that!… Have you got the money, Ferdinand?… You haven’t lost it? It’s twelve hundred francs they’re coming for, not six!… Can’t you get it through your head?…”

  “Bah! Foo! Never a step backwards!… Gangrene! You want to defend gangrene?… It’s got to be amputated!… Don’t you know that, you big hunk of blarney! It’s got to be amputated high up! Say, have you been drinking up all the white wine? I can smell it from here! High up! Garlic! What do you want to save? Say, your breath stinks! The rotten stump? The maggots? The flies? The bubo? No putrid flesh for me! I won’t make another move! Not one, you hear me?… Never, you fishwife, as long as I live!… Defeat! Recantation! Guile! Oh no! My toe! Do you expect me to jerk off my executioners?… Me? Never!… Do you hear me, Ferdinand?… Profit from what you see! Observe! Try to recognize grandeur when you see it, Ferdinand! You won’t see much of it in this world!”

  “My goodness, it’s you who’s been drinking!… Why, you’ve both been drinking!… They come here drunk, the rotters!… And then they have the gall to abuse me!”

  “Grandeur, detachment, you simpleton! I’m going away! Did you know that?… You know nothing!… Far away! Even farther! I’m telling you! I despise their provocations, even the foulest… the most sickening! What unspeakable vileness germinates in those unclean goatskins?… Those mangy curs?… What is the measure of my essence? Nobility, you old bag… Do you hear?… You who stink of aliacic acid! Do you get me, you shallot? Nobility! Are you listening? Shit on your Gavotte and double shit!… Nobility! Light! Ineffable wisdom!… Ah! Oh delirious bandits!… Demons of pillage!… Oh Marignano!* Oh debacle, poor little Ferdinand! I can’t believe my eyes! Nor my own voice!… I’m magical! I’m carried away! Oh turn of events!… Only yesterday at my zenith! Overloaded with favours! Adulated! Plagiarized! Pursued! Feted like a god! What am I saying? Consulted from all over the world! You’ve seen it, you’ve read about it! And today?… Crash bang!!!… Nothing! The bolt has struck!… Nothing!… An atom… The atom, it is I!… But the atom, Ferdinand, is everything!… Exile, Ferdinand!… Exile?” His voice was drowned in sadness… “Yes! That’s it! I am finding myself! Destiny is opening its gates! Exile? So be it! You and I!… I’ve been praying for it too long! And now it’s come!… The blow has fallen, transcendent! Hosannah! Irrevocable!… Villainy has thrown off her mask!… At last!… She owed me that!… All these years she’s been tracking me! Undermining me, exhausting me!… But now, compensation!… She shows herself! I uncover her! And I ravish her… to the full! Ah yes! She is forced to my will, seething… on the public square!… What a vision, Ferdinand!… What a spectacle! Oh Irène, all my desires are fulfilled!… Frothing, bleeding, howling! Do you hear me?… This very afternoon we saw her attacking our proud journal! Assaulting the human spirit! Ferdinand here is my witness! Wounded, bruised, mutilated!… And yet I collect myself, I pull myself together, I wrench myself away from the nightmare! Oh, what a foul battle! But the bladder has burst! The gall has gushed in all directions! Hit me square in the eyes! But my spirit is intact. Oh, the pure, the proud reward! Oh! And above all, no compromise! Get that through your heads, the whole lot of you! You expect me to cajole my executioners?… Give me cold steel instead! Or fire!… Anything, but not that! Bah!… The gods are conspiring! So be it!… They honour me with the bitterest of gifts! Hatred, the hatred of vultures!… Exile?… Will I refuse it? I? You don’t know me… They’re putting me to the test! Let them!…” That made him laugh!… “They choose to put me to the test?… I’m flattered!… I could roar with pride!… Too cruel?… Hum, hum! We’ll see! It’s an affair between gods and men!… You want to know how I’ll manage, Ferdinand? Don’t worry, friend! Don’t worry!… You won’t be bored! See here, Ferdinand, you who like to roam around, you know the Panthéon?… Tell me, poor muddlehead, haven’t you ever noticed anything? You’ve never seen the Thinker?* He’s there on his pedestal… He’s there… And what’s he doing? Eh, Ferdinand? He’s thinking, my boy! That’s right! Nothing else! He’s thinking! Well, Ferdinand! He’s alone!… There you have it! I’m alone too!… He’s naked! I’m naked too!… What can you do for me, you poor little creatures?…” He was feeling sorry for us, the old cutie and me!… “Nothing! You in a pinch!… Poor child, benighted by your endocrine glands, tormented by growing pains, in short invertebrate! Poor gastropod, destroyed by the slightest dream… As for my old goblin here, what useful or useless thing could she give me? A touching echo of years long dead… Trials! Forgotten hardships! Worm-eaten winters! Carri
on!…”

  “What’s that you called me?… Say it again!… Say it again quick so I can hear you!…” She hadn’t liked those last words. “Are you trying to make a fool of me? Just tell me that, you swine!”

  She didn’t care for allusive language… She threatened him with a vase, she demanded further details… as to what he just said!…

  “Don’t listen to him, Ferdinand! Don’t listen to him!… He’s just telling more lies! Nothing else comes out of his mouth!… What have you been doing in the kitchen?… Tell me this minute!… What’s become of my marshmallow root?… You don’t know?… He’s stolen that too!… And on my washstand… The bicarbonate? You don’t know that either?… You took an enema with it!… Don’t try to deny it! And my Vals water? Where did you put it?… He respects nothing! I’d bought it specially to take on Sunday!…”

  “Leave me alone, can’t you?… Let me think!… You molest me, you harass me, you exasperate me!… How obtuse you are, my good darling, my sweet little cherub!…”

  At that she tears her hat off, sniffs up her snot, and toys with the back of the big heavy chair…

  “Answer me,” she menaces, “what have you done with my marsh­mallow root?…”

  He has no answer… she begins to lift the chair… she’s clutching the two struts… He sees her… He lunges over to the sewing table… picks it up under the drawer… They’re both nicely armed!… This is going to be quite an argument!… I take refuge in the chimney corner… He parleys…

  “My sweet angel, please! My sugarplum, I beg you! Listen to me! Just a word before you get excited!… Listen to me! Don’t break anything!… I sold it! God! I’ve sold it all!”

  “Sold? Sold?… What have you sold?…”