Death on the Installment Plan

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  “We’re not going to move … even if he calls … We don’t hear a thing … When the cop comes back, we play it dumb … We haven’t seen a damn thing … If he bumps into him, that’s his business …” OK. She caught on … So that was that …

  Maybe an hour goes by … Maybe a little more … I fix up the kitchen … The old lady keeps a watch at the window …

  “Don’t look over here, madame! … Don’t turn around … Don’t worry about the housecleaning … Watch what’s going on outside …” I stretch out the corpse … I tidy up the straw … Rivers of blood were coming through the canvas … I get a little more hay … I scatter it around … I mop up the puddles as best I can … I put some fresh straw under the head … a good thickness like a pillow … But the hardest part was the splashes … There were spots all the way up to the ceiling … And whole blood clots sticking to the wall … It really looked lousy … I tried to rinse it all off … I ran the sponge over it again … But the marks got worse each time … Hell, I couldn’t stay there all night … I take the candles … I leave the room … We wait next door, the old lady and me … Boy, the jitters I had! … It was terrible … They kept coming back at me … Suppose this cop should notice? … Suppose he got wind of that brawl! … What a mess! … How were we going to wriggle out of that one? … Especially if he found the sky pilot out cold on the road … New evidence! … Hell! … The lousy cop didn’t come and he didn’t come … He must have screwed his sister-in-law for dessert … Some nerve! … We lay down on the ground … We’d thrown down some hay too … I didn’t talk … I was thinking … The night would never be over … I could never have fallen asleep in the state I was in … I don’t think I’d ever been so scared … Suddenly I hear a fanfare … Christ almighty Jesus! … There we go! … It’s the hunting horn! … And it came from the plain … from nearby! I says to myself: “It’s him! … Oh, the louse!” I recognized every squeak. He starts up again, an encore! … Oh. the stinker! … Oh, the rotten skunk! … He drowned out the wind … he drowned out the roar of the gale with his raucous trumpet … Christ! Enough was enough! He blew with all his heart and soul! … Some porpoise he turned out to be! … Imagine a priest being such a whack! … Christ, what a racket! Oh, that bum! That dirty dog! That pain in the ass! … I made up my mind … But then hell’s bells, no! Better he should be gargling, horrible as it was … It showed he’d recovered … He seemed to be happy … It proved he hadn’t conked out … Lord, what a monster! “Bellow away, queen of the cows!” And there he goes again with his damn trombone! His wind was doing fine … Not a thing wrong with him! … Tally-ho! Tally-ho! Oh, my bleeding ass! Ta-ta-ta, he’s sure giving us our money’s worth! … It was better than kicking off though … Hell, you got to admit that! But those belches, that brass bellyache was horrible all the same … The master of the hunt was making some pest of himself out there with his sewer pipe … He never stopped … He’d subside for half a second and right away he’d start up again … Louder and louder … Oh, you couldn’t go wrong … It was our screwball all right … His concert went on until half past six at least … The day was breaking when somebody tapped on the window … It was our cop! … He’d just got back … in the nick of time … He’d slept in Blême, supposedly … in with his horse, so he said … He couldn’t get him shod in Tousnes … it had been too late … he hadn’t found the blacksmith’s place …

  “Say, who was playing the horn around here all night? …” he asked us right away … “You didn’t hear anything? …”

  “No!” we said. “The horn? … Oh no … Certainly not, we didn’t hear a thing.”

  “That’s funny … The old folks told me …”

  He went and opened the window … The priest was right out in front … He jumped in like a goat … He’d been waiting for the chance … He flopped down on his knees in the middle of the room … He started in “Our Father which art in heaven … Thy Kingdom come! …” He said it again … He kept repeating it like a phonograph … He hammered his ribs with both fists … He was trembling all over … He bounced around on his shins … He took a lot of punishment … He didn’t stop for a second … He grimaced with pain … he was playing the martyr … “Thy Kingdom come! …” he shouted at the top of his lungs … “Thy Kingdom come! …”

  “Say, what is this? … Say. what is this?” The gendarme hadn’t ever seen such a number, he was flummoxed … “Ah, it’s a party! …” He didn’t know what to think … It threw him for several loops … The old lady was busy in the kitchen, she was heating up coffee for us … It didn’t seem like the right time … Our supplicant St. Anthony broke off his prayers when he saw the mud coming in … He made a dive for a cup … He tried to drink out of all the bowls … He was very active! He sucked the spout of the coffeepot … He burned his mouth … He puffed like a locomotive … The cop was in stitches … “My goodness, the man must be crazy … Why, he’s not normal! … that’s a sure thing … Not that I give a damn … It’s no skin off my ass … Nuts aren’t in my line of duty … They’re no business of mine … That’s for the Public Welfare department … But I don’t think he’s a priest … He don’t look it … Wherc’d he come from? … Escaped from the nuthouse? … Or maybe he’s been to a ball? … Isn’t he drunk? … Maybe it’s a disguise … Anyway, it’s not my line … But supposing he’s a deserter! … That would be my line … I’d have to look into it … But hell, he’s overage … Say, Pop, how old are you? … You won’t tell me? …” The shady character didn’t say a word … He was draining the bottoms of the cups …

  “Say, isn’t he clever? He can even drink with his nose! Hey, Pop … Say, ain’t that horn pretty? … Say, that’s a handsome instrument … Say, I wonder where he came from …”

  Later that morning a whole army of sightseers descended on our village … I wondered where they could all have come from … In that deserted region it was really a mystery … From Persant? There’d never been so many people there … or in Mesloirs either … So they came from much farther … from other counties … other districts … The crowd was so dense they overflowed onto our garden … They were packed so tight the road wouldn’t hold them all … They stamped through the fields, both embankments caved in under the weight of the populace … They wanted to see everything at once … they wanted to know everything and knock everything over … The rain was splashing down … That didn’t bother them in the least … They hung around, all plastered with cowflop … In the end they invaded our yard … They gave off a raucous rumble…

  In the front row, right against our windows, there was a whole slew of grandmothers … What a sight! They fastened on to the shutters, there were maybe at least fifty of them … They croaked louder than anybody else … They fought among themselves with umbrellas …

  At last the promised ambulance turned up … It was the very first time they’d risked it out of town … The driver tipped us off … The big hospital in Beauvais had just acquired it … Some breakdowns he’d had … Three punctures in a row … two leaks in the gas line … Now he’d have to hurry to be back before nightfall … We slipped out the stretcher, each of us took a shaft … There wasn’t a second to be lost … The driver had another worry too … that his motor would stall … He couldn’t stop … not for a minute! … not for a second! … He had to keep it running even when the car was standing still … But that was dangerous too on account of the little flames that shot out when it backfired … We went in for Courtial … The mob rushed the doorways … They pushed so hard … they blocked the arch and the little hallway so thoroughly that even clouting them, even charging them with the cop, it was like going through a rolling mill … We came back quick with the stretcher, we slipped the shafts into the grooves made specially for the purpose … it went all the way back … it fitted perfectly … We drew the big curtains … black oilcloth … That was that … The peasants stopped talking … They took off their caps … The women … young ones, old ones … crossed themselves like mad … standing ankle
-deep in the mud … The rain came down in buckets … They mumbled all their prayers … Lord, was it raining! … The ambulance driver climbed up on his seat … He retarded the spark … Pip! Pop! Tap! Pip! Pop! Tap! Pip! Pip! Terrible hiccups … The engine was wet … It snorted from every cylinder … Finally it makes up its mind … It gives a jerk … another … He throws in the clutch … It moves a little way … When Canon Fleury sees the shebang leaving, he lights out … He does a hundred-yard dash … He bounds into the air … He jumps on the mudguard … We had to run after him and pull him off by main force! He fought like a lion … We locked him up in the barn. So far so good … But once the motor had stalled, it didn’t want to start again … We all had to push it up the hill … to give it momentum … Then the new ambulance clanks down the slope, coughing and jerking and spluttering… almost two miles … Some sport! … We went back to the farm … We sat down in the kitchen … We waited a while for the people to get bored and clear out … There was nothing more to see, that was a cinch … but they didn’t budge … The ones without umbrellas settled down in the yard … in the middle shed … they’d brought their lunch. We closed our shutters.

  We looked through our stuff, the little we had left, to see if there was anything wearable we could take with us … frankly there wasn’t much … The old lady found a shawl … Naturally she still had her pants on, she always dressed like the rest of us. She hadn’t a skirt to her name … As for food, there was still a bit of rind in the pickling jar … enough to make a meal for the mutt … We were taking him with us to the station … We fed him. Luckily I found a little corduroy jacket in the back of the closet … a gamekeeper’s rig with horn buttons … The kids had swiped it … They hadn’t told anybody …

  Plus my overcoat it would help to keep me warm … I still had my bicycling pants … The underwear department was nonexistent … not even a shirt! … When it came to shoes … mine were still holding out, I’d split them open some because they were too narrow … and patched them up with sandals underneath … that made them flexible but cold … The old lady had slippers stuffed into rubbers … she’d have trouble lasting out the trip … They kept all the water in … She bundled them up in old newspapers and string … to make them like real boots, so her feet wouldn’t rattle around inside … Persant was pretty far … And Beauvais was still farther … There was no hope of getting a ride … We ran a little more coffee through the grounds … Then we got together with the cop … He was going to escort us … He was holding his plug by the bridle that still hadn’t been shod … The priest wanted to come too … I’d rather have ditched him … locked him in behind us … But he made a terrible racket the minute he thought he was alone … So that was no solution … Suppose we left him locked up in the house … and he wrecked the joint … Suppose that screwball escaped and climbed up on the roof … And suppose he fell off and broke two or three limbs … Well, who’d be on the spot? … Who’d they accuse? … Us again naturally … Who’d get thrown in the clink? … We would, beyond any shadow of a doubt … So I went and opened the door for him … He threw himself into my arms … He loved me madly … But we couldn’t find the mutt … We wasted at least an hour looking for him … in the shed, in the barn … That fleabite wasn’t anywhere … Finally he showed … We were ready to go …

  All those hayseeds waiting outside didn’t say a thing when we left … They didn’t say boo … Not a word … We passed right under their noses … The ditches were full of them … Hicks and more hicks … So we shot off down the road … Shot isn’t exactly the word … we walked pretty gingerly … Only the lunatic ran … He gamboled about, this way and that way … The padre was curious about our itinerary … “Will we see Charlemagne?” he asked us in a loud voice … He didn’t understand a word of our answers, but he didn’t want to leave us … Shaking him was hopeless … Hiking set him up … He put his hunting horn to his lips … he blew a little tally-ho … And just as we were getting into town, he raced back and joined the main body … He ran like a zebra … We came to the first houses … on the way into Persant … with the music going strong … The gendarme turned off to the left … that was the end of his assignment … We could shift for ourselves … He wasn’t keen on our company … he wasn’t going out way … We headed for the station … Right away we asked about the trains … The old lady’s train for Beauvais was leaving in ten minutes … an hour before the one to Paris … She’d have to cross over to the other platform … It was time to say good-bye … We didn’t say anything much … We didn’t make any promises … We kissed each other …

  “My goodness, Ferdinand, you’re prickly …” She meant my beard. That was a joke! … She was being brave … That was pretty good in such a rotten situation … She didn’t know where she was going … Neither did I for that matter … We’d been sharing the bad luck for a long time now … This time it had really laid us out … That was pretty well to be expected … There wasn’t much more to say …

  In the station the padre was kind of scared right away … He shriveled up in a corner … Only he kept his eyes fastened on me … He just stared at me on the platform … The people around us wondered what on earth we were up to … Especially him and his horn … the old bag in her pants … me and my coat done up with strings … They were afraid to come too close … Then the dame at the tobacco counter looked out and recognized us … “It’s the nuts from Blême,” she sang out … They kind of panicked … The Beauvais train pulled in … luckily … It made for a diversion … The old honeybun hightailed it … she climbed in on the wrong side … She stood in the doorway with Dudule’s little mutt … She waved me good-bye … I waved back … As the train was pulling out, the distress came over her … something awful … She made terrible faces in the window … She went rrrah! rrrah! like her throat was being cut … like some kind of animal …

  “Ferdinand! Ferdinand!” she hollered across the tracks … over all the racket … The train beat it into the tunnel… We never saw each other again … the old lady and I … I found out much later that she’d died in Salonika, they told me in the Val-de-Grâce military hospital in 1916. She’d gone out there as a nurse on a troop transport. She died of some kind of epidemic, I think it was exanthematic typhus. So the two of us, the canon and I, were on the other platform, the Paris-bound side. He still had no idea what we were there for … But at least he’d stopped playing his horn … He was only scared I’d leave him in the lurch … As soon as the train pulled in, he jumped in too, right behind me … He stuck to me all the way to Paris … I lost him for a second on the way out of the station … The bastard caught me right away … I lost him again on the rue Lafayette … right across from the drugstore … I took advantage of the crush … I jumped into a trolley in between all the traffic … I got out again a little later … on the Boulevard Magenta … I wanted to be alone for a while … to think and figure out what I was going to do …

  My rig was mighty weird … hardly presentable in a city … The people stared at me curiously … the shops and offices were just closing … It must have been a little after seven … I was quite a sensation with my abbreviated raglan … I hid in a doorway … The hardest to take was my overcoat … all bloused out in my pants … it gave me an amazing shape! … And I couldn’t change there … Besides, I didn’t have a hat either … I had Dudule’s little one, a patent-leather Jean-Bart hat. * I’d worn it out there … Here it wouldn’t do … I chucked it behind the door … There were still too many people for me to venture out on the sidewalk in my fancy dress … I thought I’d wait for the crowd to thin out … I watched the street go by … What struck me first was the new-type buses without an upper story, and the new motor taxies … There were more of them than hansom cabs … They made a terrible ruckus … I wasn’t used to heavy traffic anymore … It made my head spin … I was kind of sick to my stomach too. I bought a croissant and a bar of chocolate … It was time to eat … I put them in my pocket … The air always seems muggy when you get back
from the country … It’s the wind you miss … And then I began to wonder if I’d go home to the Passage … And would I go directly? … Supposing the bulls came looking for me? … Maybe the Lisp would send them …

  Farther up the Boulevard Magenta I ran into the rue Lafayette … If I took it, it wouldn’t be very complicated … rue Richelieu, the Stock Exchange … I only had to follow the lights … Oh, I knew the way all right … But if I turned right, I’d end up at the Châtelet, the bird vendors … the Quai aux Fleurs, the Odéon … That would take me toward my uncle’s … Finding a bed someplace wasn’t the worst part … I could make up my mind at the last moment … But what about landing a job? … That would be rough … How was I going to get a new outfit? … I could hear the music already … And whom would I go to see? … I came out of my hiding place … But instead of taking the Boulevard, I turned into a little side street … I stop outside a shopwindow … I’m looking at a hard-boiled egg … it’s all red … I says to myself: “I’ll buy it …” I count my money in the light … I still had more than thirty-five francs and I’d paid for my railroad ticket and the padre’s too … I peel the egg on the counter, I bite into it … I spit it out … I couldn’t swallow anything … Hell, it wouldn’t go down … Christ, I says to myself, I’m sick … I was seasick … I go out in the street … Everything was swaying … the sidewalk … the gas lamps … the shops … And I must have been teetering myself … A cop’s heading my way … I speed up some … I cross the street … I hide in another doorway … I didn’t feel like moving anymore … I sit down on the doormat … I’m feeling a little better … I says to myself: “What’s the matter, kid? … You can’t be as lazy as all that? … Haven’t you got the strength to move? …” And still sick to my stomach … The street put me in a panic … seeing it up ahead of me … on the sides … on the right and left … All those housefronts, so closed, so black. Nuts! so uninviting … it was even worse than Blême … not even a turnip to nibble on … I had the heebiejeebies all over … especially in my stomach … and my head. I wanted to vomit … Damn! I couldn’t move at all! I was stuck to the housefront … With my back to the wall like that … no kidding … I had a good chance to remember … how the poor old lady had knocked herself out keeping us all body and soul together … You can hardly imagine … Hell, now I was all alone … Honorine was gone … Balls! … She was a good old battle-ax … she had guts … she’d really struggled for us … We were all fucked now … I was sure I’d never see her again … Positive … It hit me all of a sudden … it made me feel awful … I was sick to my stomach again … I found another doormat … I threw up in the gutter … The passersby were noticing … I had to beat it … Anyway I had to move on …