Death on the Installment Plan

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  “Why, I never said that, I never said I didn’t know the gun … It was up there over the fireplace … We’d all seen it the whole time … Ask the kids …”

  “Pipe down! I’ve had enough of your idiotic remarks … Let’s get down to brass tacks … name and destination … First the victim … Date, place of birth … What was his name anyway? … Courtial? Courtial what? And where was he born? … Reputation? Occupation?”

  “His name wasn’t Courtial at all,” she answered point-blank … “It wasn’t even des Pereires … or Jean … or Marin … He made that name up … It was like everything else … One more invention! … A lie … what a liar he was! Always! Everywhere! Still! … His name was Léon … Léon Charles Punais! … That’s his honest-to-God name … It’s not quite the same, is it? … Like me, my name is Honorine Beauregard, not Irène! … That was just another name he dug up for me … He had to change everything … I can prove it … I’ve got the proof all right! … I’m not trying to pull the wool over your eyes. I never go anywhere without it … I’ve got my family booklet … I’ll go get it … He was born in Ville-d’Avray in 1852 … September 24th … That was his birthday … I’ll go over and get it for you … It’s in my reticule … Come with me, Ferdinand …”

  The sergeant was writing it out … “Escort the prisoners!” he ordered the two bulls … We passed in front of the wheelbarrow … We came back again. “Can we take it in now?” one of the cops asked … he shouted from under the arch.

  “Take what in?”

  “The body, sergeant … There’s people all around it.”

  He had to think it over …

  “OK, bring it in … Put it in the kitchen …” So then they took him out of the wheelbarrow … They lifted him very gingerly … They carried him in … They laid him down on the tiles … But he was still all crooked … He wouldn’t unbend … The old lady went down on her knees to look at him up close … She was sobbing hard … Her tears flowed in rivers … she caught hold of me with her handcuffs … She was overcome with grief … You’d honestly have thought she’d just noticed there was nothing left of him but hash

  “Oh! Oh! Look, Ferdinand …” She forgot the family booklet … she forgot about getting it … she just slumped there …

  “Oh God, he hasn’t any head! … He hasn’t any head, Ferdinand! My darling! My darling! Your head! … It’s gone …” She implored, she dragged herself at the gendarmes’ feet … She crawled between their boots … she rolled on the floor …

  “A placenta! … It’s a placenta! … I know … His head! … His poor head! … It’s a placenta! … Have you seen it, Ferdinand? … Do you see? … Look! … Oh! Oh! Oh!” she screamed like her throat had been cut …

  “Oh! All my life! … Oh! … All my life! … Oh! Oh! …” More and more piercingly.

  “I didn’t do it, messieurs … It’s not me, how could it be? … I swear it! … I swear it! … I gave him my whole life! … To bring him a little happiness! … to make him comfortable … He needed me … day and night … believe me … I’m not lying … Tell them, Ferdinand … Tell them if it isn’t true … All my sacrifices! … He hasn’t any head! … Oh, why are you all against me? … There’s nothing left for him! … Good luck! … Good luck! … he says … the poor darling … good luck! … Oh God! You saw it? . . It was written … It was him, wasn’t it? … It’s written in his writing! It wasn’t me! Good luck! That’s him! All by himself! You can tell his handwriting! Oh! it wasn’t me! … It’s obvious! … Isn’t it obvious?”

  She’d thrown herself full length on the ground … Her whole body hit the packed earth … She pressed close to Courtial … She was shivering …

  “Courtial, I implore you … Courtial, speak to me … Tell me, my angel … Why did you do it? … Why did you do such an awful thing? … Eh? Tell me, my dumpling, my treasure! …” She turned toward the cops …

  “It’s him! It’s him! It’s a placenta! …” She threw another fit … She started eating her hair … she was bellowing so loud we couldn’t hear each other in the room … The snoopers at the window climbed up on each other’s backs … She bit right into her handcuffs. She flailed around on the floor, possessed. The gendarmes picked her up by main force, they carried her into the barn … She yelled like a stuck pig … She clutched the door … She fell … she charged back against it … “I want to see him … I want to see him!” she screamed … ‘“Let me see him! … They want to take him away! … Murderers! … Help, help! My angel! My angel! … Not you, Ferdinand! Not you! … You’re not my angel! … I want to see him! … Have pity! … I want to see him! …” This went on for an hour. They had to go back and take off the handcuffs … Then she calmed down a little … They didn’t take mine off … though I promised to behave.

  In the afternoon another cop came out on a bicycle … He’d been sent specially from Persant … He told the sergeant again that we mustn’t touch anything … that the prosecutor was coming … and not the inspector … Those were the orders from above … He also told us to get the kids’ stuff ready, they’d all be leaving next day, first thing in the morning … They were expected in Versailles at a juvenile welfare home, the S.P.C.C… . Those were the orders … By ten a.m. there wasn’t to be one kid left on the premises … Two special people were coming from Beauvais to get them … to take them to the station …

  We passed the orders on to the brats who were out in the yard … after all, we had to let them know that the jig was up … dead and buried … They didn’t exactly get it … They tried to figure out what was going on, where they were being taken … They wondered if the whole thing wasn’t a gag … I tried to explain that our show was over … the record was busted … they didn’t get it … I told them the judge had sent orders to close up shop … and send the “New Race” home … that they were closing down our “wave” farm too … they were good and sick of it … that they were a lot of savages … perfectly ruthless … that it was finished … that they were looking for their parents … and this time they’d find them …

  It was all Greek to them … They weren’t used to being treated like kids anymore … They were too emancipated … They’d forgotten about obedience and those kind of things … It wasn’t much trouble collecting their duds … Actually they had nothing but their bones and their pants … They had a few “bent” shoes that were never the right size. Half the time they only wore one … Mostly they went barefoot … All the same they managed to collect a whole pile of junk … thousands of nails, hooks, bird traps, slings, ends of string, nooses … shears, spiral springs, whole sets of graters, razor blades fastened to long sticks … two complete jimmies … Only Dudule had nothing … He worked with his fingers … The kids thought they were being taken someplace where their equipment would come in handy … They didn’t realize … though I’d told them a dozen times … They didn’t take the whole thing very seriously … though they’d seen the old man with his face blown off … They could hear the old lady wailing behind the door … But that didn’t frighten them …

  “If you ask me,” said Dudule, “I betcha we’ll be back on Thursday!”

  “You don’t know them, kid,” I said … “And for Christ’s sake don’t pull any rough stuff … They’ll lock you up for life … They got terrible sweatboxes … Watch your step, behave . . ; Keep your traps shut, the whole lot of you …” Even Mésange thought she was smart: “Aw go on, Ferdinand! That’s a lot of hooey! They’re sending us away so we won’t see the funeral … It’s the bunk … We’ll be back on Sunday … when it’s all over …” I’d have asked nothing better … They packed all their little odds and ends … There was an argument about dividing up … They all wanted the rubber bands … the big thick ones … They could peg a sparrow every time … They took lots of wire … pretty near two rolls … It was plenty heavy … But hell, there was still a whole trunkful in the shed …

  The two lady social workers turned up earlier than we expected … Kind of like nuns … No coif
s, but high-necked gray dresses, both exactly the same, and fingerless gloves … and funny voices, too soft and very insistent … It wasn’t dark yet …

  “So here we are, my dear children …” said the skinnier of the two. “We’ll have to hurry a little … I hope you’ll all be very well behaved … We’ll have a lovely trip together …” They lined them up two by two … But Dudule was all by himself in front … It was certainly the first time they’d ever been put in order … They asked them all their names …

  “And now we mustn’t talk any more … We’re all good little children … And what’s your name, my dear?”

  “Mésange Sweetiepie …” It was perfectly true that the others called her that. They were still nine in all … five boys, four girls. Dudule left us his mutt … They didn’t want him in Versailles … All of a sudden they all broke ranks … They’d forgotten the old lady … She was still in her barn … They ran over and kissed her good-bye … Naturally they cried some … It wasn’t a very cheerful leave-taking … considering the circumstances … Mésange cried the most …

  “Good-bye, Ferdinand … Good-bye … See you soon,” they shouted back from the other end of the yard … The ladies rounded them up again …

  “My goodness, children, goodness me … Come along, little girls …” Their last cries came to me from way down the road … “So long, pal … so long …”

  Balls! Balls! I knew the score … Getting older is a crummy trick … Kids are like years, you never see them again. We locked up Dudule’s dog with the old bag. The two of them cried together. He yammered the hardest. That day, honestly, take it from me, was one of the rottenest in my whole life. Balls!

  Once the kids were gone, the sergeant settled down in the kitchen with his men. They saw I was perfectly quiet, they took off my handcuffs … The body was next door … There wasn’t anything to do, because we had to wait for the prosecutor, who was coming next day … There’d be a “preliminary investigation,” they said. The bulls talked it over … Anyway, they’d stopped bawling us out … And besides they were hungry … They looked through the cupboards … for food … They felt like gargling too… But there wasn’t a drop of wine … We lit the fire … It was raining into the fireplace … It was bitter cold again. February is the littlest month but the meanest too … The first part of the winter hadn’t been so bad … but now it was getting even … The bulls were talking it all over … they were peasants deep down … They clumped all over in their boots … I looked at their mugs up close … They were smoking their pipes … they were sitting around our table … There was plenty of time to look them over … They had a thick layer of blubber from their eyes down. Their cheeks were completely armored … and they had rolls of fat all around their necks up to their ears … They were all beef and pretty thick in the middle, especially one that was twice the size of the others … They wouldn’t be easy to fill … Their two-pronged hats were piled up in a pyramid in the middle of the table … Their boots were the real seven-league kind … steamboats … When all five of them stood up and dragged their sabers around, you can’t imagine the clatter … But they were getting thirstier and thirstier … They went and got some cider from the old folks at the end of the village … Later, maybe about eight o’clock, another bull showed up … he’d come from their barracks … He’d brought some wine and a bite to eat … five mess cans … We still had some coffee. I said we could make them some if they’d let us grind it. They were willing. The old lady came out of her barn. They opened up for her. Her fit of rage had passed … It was mighty hard on those giants having no more than that to eat … a little mess can apiece … and one bread ration for all five … The old girl, I knew, still had some bacon tucked away … And some lentils in a special hiding place of her own, and some turnips, and maybe half a pound of margarine …

  “I could make you some soup,” she said … “now the kids are gone … Maybe I can feed the lot of you …” They were delighted … They slapped their thighs … But she started sniveling again … We had a big kettle … it held at least fifteen mess cans … Some more wine arrived … all the way from Persant … The sergeant’s wife sent a kid out with it with a letter and a newspaper … We sat down with them … Naturally we took our share … We hadn’t had a bite to eat in twenty-four hours … The gendarmes asked for seconds … We emptied the whole kettle … First they only talked among themselves … Gradually they livened up … They shoveled it in … They unbuttoned without ceremony … One of the five … not the sergeant, one that was all bald … seemed more curious than the rest … He asked the old lady what line of business the deceased had been in before taking up farming … He was interested … She tried to answer, but she didn’t do very well … She gagged on every word … She broke into sobs … She blew her nose in her plate … She sneezed into the pepper … In the end they were all laughing … Besides, the soup took the skin off your tongue … she’d had a heavy hand with the seasoning … Whew! Hoo! Oof! … The room was hot too … The fire was drawing fine … When the wind was right, it was enough to burn the house down … but when it changed, it blew back into the room … You suffocated in the smoke … It’s always like that in the country …

  At the end of the bench the sergeant couldn’t take the heat anymore … He peeled off his tunic … The others followed suit … The big shots from the courthouse couldn’t get there until morning … so there was nothing to worry about … They all wondered why the inspector had backed down … That question really got them excited … And especially why the prosecutor was coming in person! … And why in such a hurry? … There must have been some tangle between the prosecutor’s office and the police … That was the conclusion they came to … If they were locking horns, we were sure to get it in the neck … that’s what I was thinking. The sergeant, little by little, started eating again … All by himself he wolfed down pretty near a whole Camembert … enormous slabs of bread … washed down with the red stuff … A mouthful … a drink … A mouthful … another drink … I watched him … he winked at me … He was kind of sozzled … He got real friendly … He asked the old bag, not at all brutally, without the least malice, what her Courtial had done before they came to Blême … She heard him all wrong … she was all befuddled from crying. “Rheumatism” was her answer … she was way off … She started bugling again … Her tears got the best of her … She begged him, implored him, to let her stay in the kitchen … next door … just a little while … to sit with the body … until midnight for instance … We were all out of oil and kerosene … there was nothing but candles, but plenty of those … The kids swiped them all over the place, every time they went out … whenever they dropped into a farm. They’d brought back every known caliber … there were plenty to choose from … The old lady wanted to light two … The sergeant was sick of her yapping …

  “Go on, go on … But come back quick … right away … And don’t set the place on fire … And don’t touch the old man, eh? … or I’ll lock you up in the barn again … For good!”

  She went out … A minute later when she didn’t come back, one of the gendarmes got up to go see … “What in hell’s she doing? …” they wondered … I went with him … She was down on her knees, bent over the body …

  “Can’t I cover him? …” “Nothing doing!” the bull said. “It’s not that he scares me … But you’re going to have to wrap him up … They can’t take him away like this … I won’t move him, I promise you … I don’t need to touch him … I’d only like to put a cloth around him … That’s all … A cloth under him and over his head …”

  I wondered what she was meaning to use … Sheets? … We hadn’t any … We’d never had any in Blême … We had blankets, but they were rags … completely rotted away … We hadn’t been using them in a long time … we slept in our clothes … They were all falling apart … The gendarme wanted no part of it … He told her to ask the sergeant for permission herself … But the sergeant was asleep … He’d collapsed on the table … We cou
ld see him through the door … The other yokels were playing cards …

  “Wait, I’ll go,” he said finally … “Don’t touch him before I get back …” But she couldn’t wait …

  “Ferdinand, you go. Hurry up, son. Go look in my tick … you know … in the slit where I put the straw in … Stick your arm in at the foot end and rummage around … you’ll find the big piece … you know … out of the Archimedes … the red one … bright red … It’s big enough … It’ll be big enough … It’ll go all around him … Go get it quick … I’ll be right here … Hurry up, quick!”

  It was perfectly true … I found it right away … It stank of rubber … It was the piece she’d saved from under the ruins the night of the disaster … She unfolded it in front of me … she spread it out on the ground … It was still good canvas … only the color had changed … It wasn’t scarlet anymore … it had turned all brown. She wouldn’t let me help her to roll Courtial up in it … She did it all by herself … She was careful not to move him … She slipped the cloth all flat under the corpse … very gently I’ve got to admit … She had all the yardage she needed to wrap him up completely … And the hash where the head was, was all closed in too … The sergeant watched us … The other one had woken him up … So then he yelled through the door … “Say, you hiding him again? … Are you off your rocker?”

  “Oh, don’t scold me, sir … don’t scold me, I beg of you … I’ve done my best …” She turned toward him on her knees. “I haven’t done any harm! Come and see! I haven’t done any harm! Come and see for yourself! He’s still there … Believe me … believe me … I beg of you, Mr. Engineer …” she started calling him that all of a sudden, Mr. Engineer … She was screaming again …

  “He went up, Mr. Engineer … You people didn’t see him … Naturally you don’t believe me … But Ferdinand saw him … Didn’t you, Ferdinand? … How beautifully he went up! … You remember, son? … Tell him … They don’t believe me … Mercy! Sweet Jesus! I’m going to say a prayer! Ferdinand! Mr. Engineer! Holy Mary! Mary! Lamb of heaven! Pray for us! Ferdinand! I conjure you! Tell the gentlemen! will you? … Come and pray! Come quick! Come here! It’s the truth, isn’t it? … In the name of the Father! the Son! and the Holy Ghost! … You know that one, don’t you, Ferdinand? … You know your prayers? …”