“Me too, madame, me too …”
“I know, Ferdinand, I know … But with you it’s not the same … Youre still a kid luckily … Nothing is so sad at your age … Now you’ll be starting out in life … You’re only beginning … You can’t understand …”
“He loved you too.” I said … “He often told me … how terribly fond he was of you … that he couldn’t do without you … without you he didn’t exist … ‘Take my wife,’ he’d say …” I laid it on pretty thick … I was trying to console her … I did my best … So then she gushes like a fountain …
“Don’t cry, madame! Don’t cry … This is no time … You’ve got to harden yourself … You’re not through yet … You’ll have to talk … when you get to Beauvais … maybe you’ll have to defend yourself! It gets on their nerves when you cry … You’ve noticed … I’ll have to look out for myself too. You said so yourself …”
“Yes, you’re right, Ferdinand … Boo hoo! You’re right … I’m stupid … I’m nothing but an old crazy-woman …” She tried to control herself … she wiped her eyes …
“But he was really fond of you … Ah, believe me, Ferdinand … I’m not saying it to flatter you … You knew that, didn’t you? … He knew what a good heart you had deep down … even if he was hard sometimes … even if he was a little hard on us …”
“Oh yes! I knew, madame …”
“And now that he’s killed himself … It’s so awful! Can you imagine? … I can’t believe it … It’s incredible …” She couldn’t tear herself away from the terrible thought …
“Ferdinand,” she started up again … “Ferdinand, listen …” She tried to find the exact right words … they wouldn’t come … “Ah, yes … He trusted you, Ferdinand … and I trust you … And you know … he didn’t believe in anybody anymore …”
Our wood wasn’t burning at all … It smoked up the whole room _… It popped, it flew up in the air … it was going out … I tell the old lady … “I’m going to get some more that’ll burn.” I start for the barn … maybe I’d find a dry faggot … I could rip out a piece of the wall … the inside wall … I start across the yard … I turn to one side to pass around the well, I look across the plain … I see something moving … looked like a man! … “It can’t be the gendarme,” I says to myself … “He wouldn’t be back so soon … It’s some tramp … Some guy prowling around … Well,” I say, “if he’s looking for trouble … Hey,” I shouted, “hey there … What are you looking for around here?” He doesn’t answer … He disappears … So right there I turned back, I didn’t even go so far as the barn … I had a feeling something fishy was going on. “Hell and damnation!” I says to myself. “Beat it, kid …” Quick I tear off a hunk of fence … “That’ll do,” I says to myself … I run over … I go in … I ask the old bag:
“You haven’t seen anybody?”
“No,” she says … “No.”
At that very moment, in the windowpane, not two yards away … I see a face staring at me … a great big face … I see the hat too … through the glass … and the lips moving … But I can’t hear the words … I move up with the candle, I throw the window wide open … That was brave of me! … I recognize him right away … Christ, if it isn’t our canon … Fleury! … It’s him all right … the nut! Him and nobody else … Shit! … How’d he get here? Where on earth did he come from? He starts spluttering … He sprays me with spit … He gesticulates like mad … He seems beside himself with joy to have found us … his friends! … his brothers! … He steps through the little window … There he is inside … He’s jubilant … He prances … He wiggle-waggles all around the table … The old lady didn’t remember his phizz, or his name, or the circumstances … A little lapse of memory …
“It’s Fleury … Look, it’s Fleury! … The one with the diving bell? Don’t you remember? Take a good look …”
“Ah, my goodness, it’s true! … Why, yes, yes, it’s him … Oh, Father! … oh, forgive me … Ah! So you’ve heard? Ah, why of course it’s you … Oh, I’m going out of my mind! Ah, I didn’t recognize you … You haven’t heard the awful thing?”
It took more than that to stop him … He kept on prancing … hopping … skipping … He didn’t pay attention … He did a big leap and then some little jumps … he jerked backward … He jumped up on the table … He wiggled around some more … He jumped down, bam! … His cassock was all caked and armored with muck and cowflop … up to the armpits … up to the ears … Sure, it was him I’d seen out in the field just now … We’d both scared each other … My, was he harnessed! … Some load he had on his back … A whole soldier’s outfit … two musette bags! two canteens! three mess kits! and on top a hunting horn … an enormous magnificent thing, slung over his shoulder … The whole business clanked every time he moved … and he never stopped moving … What bothered him most was his hat … it slid down over his eyes … a big straw affair like a fisherman … And the guy had decorated himself too … admirably … his whole soutane was full of orders and medals … and several Legions of Honor … They were all caked with muck, and a big heavy crucifix, an ivory Jesus, dangling on a long chain … He was so wet, this fine canon of ours, he dripped all over the room … He was a walking watering can … His soutane was ripped from top to bottom in back … You could still see the briars …
The old lady tried to make him stop moving … She wanted to convince him … She just had to! … I motioned her not to work him up … maybe he’d leave of his own accord … no use getting him excited … But she didn’t want to understand … She was glad to see him again. She crowded him into corners … which made him growl like a wild animal … He backed plunk against the wall with his head down, ready to charge … He didn’t listen to her … He pressed his fingers to his mouth … “Sh-sh” he went … He darted looks in all directions, and they weren’t very friendly … This bozo was on the lam …
“Didn’t you know, Monsieur le Chanoine? … I see you don’t know … Oh, if you could only have seen … Oh, if you knew what’s happened! …”
“Hush, hush! … Monsieur des Pereires!” Now he was asking for him … “Where is he? Where’s Monsieur des Pereires? …” He grabbed her by the shoulders, he snorted into her face … A tic convulsed his whole mouth … It stayed twisted … Then in little spasms he relaxed …
“I haven’t got him, Father … Oh no … I haven’t got him! … You really don’t know? … The poor man’s not here … He’s gone, poor soul … Come, come … Didn’t they tell you? …”
“Hurry! … Hurry!” He shook her violently.
“But gracious, he’s dead … He’s passed away … Haven’t I told you? …” She’d met up with somebody that was even more pigheaded than she was …
“I want to see him … I’ve got to see him …” He had this obsession and he wouldn’t let go … “It’s urgent! … Sh-sh … Sh! Hurry, hurry …” He tiptoed around the table … He looked on top and underneath, he looked up the chimney … He opened both cupboards … He tore out the keys … He battered the wood box … he broke off the hinges … He was frantic … He couldn’t stand being crossed … His tic made his whole lip curl …
“Father! … Father! … Don’t do that! …” She kept trying to convince him …
“Ferdinand! I implore you! Tell Father Fleury… Isn’t he dead, boy? … Tell him! …” She latched on to his musette bag …
“Go look on the door, it’s written there … Tell him if it’s not true, Ferdinand … ‘Good luck’ …” She grabbed him by the hunting horn … He dragged the whole place after him … The old bag, the table, the chairs, the dishes …
“Enough! Enough of your insolence! … You’re insolent whelps, the whole lot of you! … I want the director! … Genitron Courtial! … Can’t you hear me? … Him and nobody else! … Heavens! He’s expecting me! … He wants to see me immediately! … We have an appointment! … an appointment! …” He threw her off in his rage … She went careening into the wall …
“Enough! Enough! I want to talk to him! … You can’t stop me … Who’s going to stop me? …” He hiked up his soutane … He rummaged through his pockets … He took out little scraps of paper … crumbs, newspaper clippings … He stayed like that on his knees in feverish confusion for a long time … He spluttered, he counted the papers one by one … he smoothed them out … he flattened them … He rolled some of them into little spitballs …
“Hush! Hush!” he started in again. He didn’t want us to move. “There it is … It’s authentic! What? Haven’t you any eyes in your head? … It’s a genuine Pharaoh manuscript! … This here! …” He hands me a pinch of it …
“There you are, my boy …” He pressed a spitball … two spitballs … into the hollow of my hand … “The director! The director! …”
Hell, there he goes again … his fury was mounting … He reared up … he jumped back on the table … he shouted for Courtial at the top of his lungs … He put the hunting horn to his lips … He blew one big blast and several raucous farts … and then a few squeaks and short hiccups …
“He’s coming … He hears me …” Ten times, twenty times in succession … He grabs me by the coat, he slobbers in my face, he blows in my eyes … Christ, does he stink! … In gusts he tells me how he’d got there … He’d got off at Vry-Controvert, the whistle-stop on the narrow-gauge line, twelve miles from Blême … “They” were after him … He pesters the life out of me, trying to prove it …
“Hush, hush,” he says again … “The Powers! … Yes indeed!” He goes back to the window … He looks out to see if they’re coming … He hides behind the shutter, growling … He bounces out again … He scans the approaches … He pisses in the fireplace … He doesn’t button his pants … He comes back to the blind … He must have seen the Powers … He mulls … He grunts like a wild boar …
“Grrr! Grrr!” he goes … “Never! … Grrr! Grrr! … Never! …” He turns on me … He shakes his fists in my face … He’s certainly changed since the Palais-Royal! … How ferocious he’s gotten to be! … They must have given him scorpions to eat … in the nuthouse … Hell! He’s wild! … He’s been drinking vitriol! … He never stops! … He lunges in all directions … He bangs into the walls … He threatens … he challenges … The old lady and I have given up trying to say anything … We’re licked … That loony padre is beginning to give me a pain … I wouldn’t mind laying him out with a clout from behind … I catch sight of a nifty pole beside the window … We use it as a poker … with a big long tip and a nice cast-iron handle … That would settle his hash … We’d have another crime on our hands … I motion the old lady to get out of the way … just for a second … to stand against the wall … Shit! … If only he’d shut up … so I wouldn’t have to lay hands on him … Christ, what a rotten cocksucker! … What an ugly stupid bastard! Why can’t the stinker pipe down? … Why can’t the screwball leave us alone? … He won’t believe us … He thinks we’re hiding him … Hell, this is infernal … I tell the old lady:
“It can’t be helped … This has gone too far! I’m fed up … I’m going to show him …”
“Don’t, Ferdinand! … Don’t do it … I beg you…”
“Oh yes, I will … Maybe that’ll straighten him out … Maybe he’ll understand … The damn fool has this bee in his bonnet … He’s screwy … he’s bats … Then we’ll throw him out …” He was still thrashing around, knocking into everything … He lifted up the whole table … and take it from me, that table was a monument … That Hottentot was strong! …
“The director! The director!” he started bellowing again … “I’ve given all I had …” He went down on his knees again, he kissed his crucifix … He crossed himself a thousand times … He stayed there in an ecstasy … his arms stretched out on both sides … He made a crucifix of himself … And then up like a spring … And off again on tiptoes … his eyes fixed on the ceiling … He started up again with the applesauce …
She tugged at me, she didn’t want me to show him the stiff in the kitchen … She made motions … “No, no!” This malarky had been going on long enough … I had it up to here …
“Come this way …” I grabbed him by the hunting horn … and bam … I dragged him to the kitchen … Ah, the stinker … he won’t believe us … Well, he’s going to get an eyeful … All nuts are the same … They thrive on opposition … “Let’s go! Come on, you lug!” I give him a kick in the ass … That makes him bounce … It’s his turn to say uncle … I can get mean too … He gripes … he grumbles … I push him down the hallway …
“Upsy-daisy! … Take the candle, madame, take two … Let him have a good look … an eyeful … We don’t want him coming back for seconds …” When we get to the kitchen, I go down on my knees … and a little lower … I show him the body in the balloon cover right under his nose … It’s right there in front of him … I put the other candle down beside it …
“There you are … can you see all right? … What do you say now, you dumb cluck? … You going to stop wasting our time? … Is it him all right? … You recognize him? … You don’t? …” He comes close … he sniffs … he’s suspicious … He blows all up and down the legs … He lowers his head … He says a prayer … He goes on and on … Then he turns around … He looks at me some more … He starts praying again …
“Well? Did you get a good look? … D’you finally catch on. you jerk? … You going to behave? … You going to beat it like a good boy? … You going to shove off and take your train? …” But he kept right on grunting and sniffing at the corpse … So I grab him by the arm … I try to take him away … I try to make him get up … He goes into one of his tantrums … He gives me a terrible poke with his elbow … right square in the knee … Ah, the bum! Say, that hurts … I see stars … For two cents I’d have brained him then and there … the crazy bastard … I’d have wiped him out … The old lady kept at it though … She appealed to his kind heart … to his good intentions … She tried to smooth him down …
“You see, Father, you can see he’s dead … You’re making all of us miserable … That’s all you’re doing … He’s gone, poor man … The gendarme forbade us … He told us not to let anybody in … We promised him! You’re going to get us in trouble … both of us, Ferdinand and me … What good will that do? … You wouldn’t want that, would you? …”
At this point I says to myself: “Balls! If he won’t believe us, I’ll show him the head … If he thinks we’re hiding him … And then I’ll throw him out quick …” So I lift up a corner of the cover … I bring the candle still closer … I show him the whole mulligatawny … “Take a good look! …” so he can really see what’s what … He kneels down for a close-up … I try again:
“OK, you old souse? You coming? …” I tug at him … He doesn’t want to move … He’s adamant … He doesn’t want to leave … He sniffs full in the meat … “Hm! Hm!” He starts howling! He works himself up … He throws another fit … His whole body is shaking … I try to cover the head up again … “That’ll do! …” But he pulls at the canvas … He’s in a frenzy … stark raving mad! … He won’t let me cover him … He sticks his fingers into the wound … He plunges both hands into the meat … he digs into all the holes … He tears away the soft edges … He pokes around … He gets stuck … His wrist is caught in the bones … Crack! … He tugs … He struggles like in a trap … Some kind of pouch bursts … The juice pours out … it gushes all over the place … all full of brains and blood … splashing … He manages to get his hand out … I get the sauce full in the face … I can’t see a thing … I flail around … The candle’s out … He’s still yelling … I’ve got to stop him! …. I can’t see him … I lose my head … I lunge at him … by dead reckoning … I hit him square … The stinker goes over … he crashes against the wall … smash! boom! … I’ve got my momentum … I’m coming after him … but I straighten out … I brake, I get away from him … I’m very careful … Hell! … I don’t want him conking out on account of me … I
wipe my eyes … I keep my presence of mind … I try to get him up … I don’t want him lying on the floor … I give him a good kick in the ribs … He lifts up a little … That’s better! … I give him a good smack in the puss … That gets him all the way up … the old lady empties a whole basin of water … it was plenty cold … over his dome … He starts sighing and whimpering again … Isn’t that lovely! … But then he folds up all in a piece … The rotten stinker! … Bam! … He collapses … He quivers like a rabbit … then he stops moving completely … The louse! … He can’t take it … I give a look out the door … Then the two of us tote him out to the side of the road … We didn’t want to have him around and get blamed for him too … Hell no! … Have the cop find him in the house … out like a light … completely at our mercy! … Wouldn’t that be sweet! … We’d be cooked to a crisp! … They mustn’t even know we’ve had him in the house … What people don’t know won’t hurt ‘em … We’re no suckers … OK … out with him … hurrah for the fresh air … unconscious or not! … He started grunting a little after all … He sniffed around in the muck … The rain was coming down in buckets … We ran back in … We bolted the door … The wind was coming in blasts … I says to the old lady:
Death on the Installment Plan Page 63
