Castle to Castle (44 page)

Enough of that! Pithecanthropus has got a new myth! you'll see if the blood gushes! if the cutlasses are ready or not! . . . hell! twelve hundred billion quarts of alcohol make you close
your eyes to a lot of things!

But here's another gooseberry! . . . on the fourth floor, over the Raumnitzes, in No. 91 was taking care of Monsieur Miller from Marseille, a tubercular bed patient, bad hemoptysis . . . luckily I had a little "retropituitin" . . . it hadn't fallen from heaven . . . hidden in my pocket since Bezons . . . I did what I could . . . day and night . . . This Monsieur Miller, so it seemed, held a very high position in the
Sureté
in Marseille . . . okay! . . . I didn't want to know any more . . . anyway Herr Frucht griped something terrible about his occupying a bed at the
Löwen
. . . said he'd infect the hotel with his coughing and spitting . . . His crapper overflowed all over the stairs! . . . and my patient was the menace! a lot of phony pretexts! . . . his room would be uninhabitable! . . . I should have him sent back to Germany! . . . but this Monsieur Miller of Marseille wasn't the least bit dangerous! . . . those people were scheming something else! . . . I could see it was another plot, like with Luchaire . . . I was perfectly willing for Monsieur Miller of Marseille to move out . . . but where could I put him with his TB? I went to see the lady doctor, a Boche,
"führerin"
of everything connected with tuberculosis . . . Dr. Kleindienst . . . she was really anti-French! . . . she told me off! . . . No surprise . . . she'd always refused me everything! I'd gone to see her a hundred times for my working women with pneumothoraxes . . . there were plenty of them . . . Frenchwomen working in the factories . . . for a quarter pound of butter . . . a pound of sugar . . .
no! no!
. . . and I knew perfectly well that she sent anybody she pleased . . . much lighter cases, whole families from the Castle . . . to the big sanatorium at Saint-Blasien in the Black Forest . . . "send him back to France" was her only advice . . . The S.S. Sanatorium at Saint-Blasien wasn't for my patients! . . . I could see the plot coming . . . petitions all over the hotel and the restaurant, to send this Miller home to Marseille . . . and me with him! . . . to throw us both out! all three of us, Lili and Bébert! or ship us to a camp! . . . I saw it coming! . . . Cissen! . . . oh, they were certainly thinking about it! all four! . . . Le Vigan too! . . . I seem to be exaggerating a little . . . not at all! not at all! . . . I wasn't sure of Brinon! . . . and not at all sure of the Raumnitzes . . . and in spite of the cyanide not the least bit sure of Laval . . . or Bichelonne . . .

Even so the days passed . . . and the nights . . . it was getting really cold . . . Marion comes to see us . . . he tells me that Bichelonne has pulled out . . . suddenly, just like that, without a word . . . without telling me anything . . . gone away to get himself operated up there in Prussia . . . okay! I tell him about the Miller business and my troubles with Kleindienst . . . I tell him it's a plot . . . he thinks so too, he agrees . . . Marion . . . the Minister of Information . . . isn't optimistic . . . he had a shit-colored outlook . . .

I've told you a good deal about Herr Frucht and his troubles with his toilet . . . but there was a Mrs. Frucht too . . . Frau Frucht, on our landing, Room 15 . . . No. 15 was more than a room! . . . a regular apartment with bathroom, dining room, smoking room . . . I haven't told you about it . . . or about Frau Frucht . . . I took care of her . . . well, I gave her injections . . . menopause trouble . . . I got them from Basel . . . through "runners" . . . but even so Frau Frucht didn't like us! . . . not at all! . . . any more than her Julius! . . . repulsive
Franzosen!
. . . we were contaminating her hotel, etc. . . . why couldn't we go somewhere else? . . . which didn't prevent her from having herself entertained by the bodyguards from the Castle . . . who were very, very French! . . . three, four bodyguards per minister . . . which made quite a crowd, and those boys had good appetites . . . for lunch and dinner . . .
Franzosen
, athletes, and such lechers! . . . who weren't bashful and really piled it in! . . . and it ended in some jamboree! . . . a real Vrench orgy! The lady of the
Löwen
kept open board for the bodyguards . . . all the Rhine wine they wanted, schnapps . . . even absinthe! . . . better than at Pétain's . . . Frau Frucht was having a burning, writhing menopause, hot flashes and torments of the ass! . . . I think the husband was in on it, he'd take a peek between two sessions at the crapper . . . two shithouse tantrums! . . . the perfect Boche! . . . Anywhere you go, you'll find people who manage to enjoy themselves . . . if tomorrow the earth turns into ashes and plaster . . . a cosmos of protons . . . in some hole in the mountains you'll still find a batch of haggard lunatics buggering and sucking each other, swilling and piling it in . . . deluge and
partouze!
. . . that's what it was like at the
Löwen
, I've got to admit it . . . and what's more, only two steps from our door . . . on the same landing . . . I knew all about it . . . I never mentioned it to anybody . . . not even to Lili . . . oh, I never talked about Room 36 either! . . . you don't talk about things like that! . . . Frau Frucht never went out by way of our landing . . . she went down to her restaurant by her own winding stairway, from her bed to the kitchen . . . nobody entered her room except the bodyguards . . . her muscular friends, her masseurs . . . all bodyguards are masseurs, they sure massaged that lady! . . . I could see the marks of their massages, the palms, the fingers! . . . she was mottled with massages! . . . with her, her maids were on the receiving end . . . she had her own way of massaging them,
à la schlag!
maids and cooks! . . . she'd ask them up to No. 15 for a lecture!
boom! boom!
. . . old and young! . . . for never cleaning the stairs properly! . . . for breaking dishes in the restaurant! . . .
crack! smack!
on the ass! on the back! . . . they didn't like it? . . . repeat performance! . . . "lift up your skirts! . . . higher! . . . higher! . . . . . old or young! . . . nothing light about her touch! . . . Frau Frucht had a whip, too . . . like Frau Raumnitz! . . . as I saw later, in prison . . . the whip is a natural for dealing with maids, society women, and prisoners . . . they've all got a screw loose! . . . straighten them out, cure their complexes, there's only one way! I saw them coming out of Room 15 in tears and hysterics . . . they'd been straightened out . . . you think you ought to interfere? . . . how do you know the flagellees don't like it? . . . that getting themselves whipped isn't a vice with them? . . . one way or another, it was vice all right! . . . I knew . . . I didn't talk about it . . . The Frucht apartment, as long as we're there, was as fluffy . . . cushions, settees, furs, overstuffed velvet easy chairs . . . as our hovel was sordid . . . and talk about incense and perfumes! . . . Frau Frucht was always spraying her bed, the hangings, and chairs . . . a bottle of lavender . . . another! heliotrope, jasmine! made you think of the
Chabanais!°
. . . maybe you never knew the
Chabanais
. . . but a
Chabanais
crossed with Paillard's! . . . ass and stomach! . . . enormous orgies! . . . the whole works! the mixture of smells! . . . jasmine and rich food . . . leg of lamb, chicken, pheasant au vin . . . hit you on the landing . . . the door across from ours, next to the crapper . . . sent you reeling! Frau Frucht was just right for her boudoir, all ruffles and flounces and luxury . . . you could easily see her in a whorehouse . . . the build, the eyes, the tits! The whole picture! . . . and those wrappers, all lace and cabbage-bow ribbons! and those pale pink and green kimonos! . . . and whole cupboards full of silk stockings and garters! . . . menopause or no menopause, Frau Frucht was going strong! . . . the thrashings she gave the maids, plus my hormone injections, plus the bodyguards kept her in a state of prickling desire! . . . I played it dumb . . . I didn't see a thing . . . she gave us little extras . . . Lili and Bébert and me . . . a small platter of noodles now and then . . . who cared about the rest? . . . oh, she wasn't the generous type! Messalina if you will, but also a ruthless hashhouse operator! . . . she took it as a pretext for whipping her maids when they swiped her
Stamgericht
for their mothers or husbands . . . or worse . . . when they took it to the station! . . . I repeat, it was only a pretext . . . any pretext to whip! . . . and make them bellow! . . . 
Striptease?
Don't make me laugh! Whipping shows are the thing! You'd fill the Opera a little fuller than for
Faust
or
Meistersinger!
. . . any pretext for vice will do! but she was worth knowing . . . not only her boudoir apartment, the tomato herself . . . that face! made you think of the Place Blanche and the worst pick-me-ups in the Bois . . . I'm talking about the old days when there were still real whores, talented creatures, really passionate, asses of flame . . . before the automobile . . . yes, her body, and I can claim to be very particular, was still on the up and up . . . the minute I came into her room, she lay down for her injection, she took off everything, kimono, silk stockings, she wanted me to palpate, to give her a thorough examination . . .
intus et exit
. . . her skin wasn't bad for a woman of her age . . . her muscles were still in good shape, no cellulitis, no muscular atrophy . . . she must have been a peasant, used to heavy work, spading and plowing . . . the breasts still very firm . . . but the face! . . . Boulevard Rochechouart under the Métro tracks . . . pulpy, gluttonous mouth, maybe even worse than Loukoum! . . . a mouth that could have swallowed the sidewalk, the urinal and all the customers, plus their organs and the bread crusts! . . . her eyes? . . . glowing coals! . . . the fire of live volcanoes . . . dangerous! . . . I gave her her injection . . . oh, but I was on deck! . . . I was sure her old man was watching . . . I didn't know where . . . too many draperies and hangings! but I knew! . . . I had to be affable too! . . . she wasn't putting anything on for me . . . she was so sultry by nature she couldn't have done any more . . . When the injection was done and I'd put my syringe away . . . two three words to be polite . . . she grabs me by the hand . . . just like that, stark naked! . . . oh, it wasn't her nakedness that interested me . . . it was her eyes, those coals! . . . not to see if they're sexy or not! . . . it was the danger that made me look at her eyes . . . is she going to rape me? . . . no! . . . no! . . . that's a relief! . . . she wants to speak to me up close! . . . closer! . . . she wants me to listen . . .

"
Ihre Frau! . . . tanzerin!
. . .
Eh? . . . schön!
. . . beautiful! beautiful!
barizerin
.
ya? ya?
eh?
schöne beine!
beautiful legs?"

"Oh yes! . . . oh, yes!"

Certainly . . . I won't deny it!

"
Sie! sie!
you? lend me? . . .
hier!
. . .
hier!
. . .
schlafen mit!
. . . sleep with me!
willst du?
will you? will you?"

She's not a volcano anymore . . . she's pure fire! . . . this bitch is burning! . . . she wants it! . . . she wants Lili! . . .

"Gross ravioli willst du haben!
. . . schön! . . . schön! . . ."

She shows me the ravioli I'll get . . . an enormous platter of ravioli! . . . gigantic!

"Yes, yes! Frau Frucht! . . . I'll speak to her!"

And then suddenly, my presence of mind, I grab her square in the ass and kiss her! . . .
smack!
full in the ass! and on the other cheek!
plop!
. . . that makes us intimate! we understand each other!

I'm not going to cross her . . . give her the idea that I won't bring her Lili . . . we'd wake up in Cissen! . . . sure as shit!. . . one way or another . . . But there I get to thinking . . . maybe this is a trap! . . . perfectly possible! . . . a plot with her old man to get rid of us both! a little trick! the vice squad! . . . turn me in for a pimp! . . . and Lili for an adventuress who stops at nothing! . . . in judging people's instincts I go by the eyes . . . and the look in those eyes was bad . . . lesbian passion? . . . don't make me laugh! . . . sure, la Frucht went in for vice! I'd seen others like her! thousands of them! sure she was horny . . . that doesn't mean a thing! her hatred was certainly stronger than her sex fever! . . . maybe she'd have helped herself to Lili . . . maybe . . . and then the bounce! . . . Cissen! . . . the "monstrous couple" . . . the perverts of the
Löwen
. . . I may be a little rundown, but I think fast! . . . plenty fast! . . . luckily! . . . I was careful not to leave that room too fast! . . . not to seem to be in a hurry! . . . I kiss her ass again, her thigh, her back, her oyster . . .
mff . . . mff!
an all-around job! . . . the works! . . . to seem like an accomplice, a real fan! make her think I'm going to bring Lili
zu schlafen mit!
. . . yes, yes, of course! . . . and I leave very slowly . . . I don't say a word . . . not a word to Lili . . . or to anybody . . . I clam up . . . I'm beginning to think that if la Frucht goes that far she has orders . . . from the Castle? from the Raumnitzes? . . . or that she knows it's only a matter of hours before we're flattened out like Ulm? . . . that somebody's given her the word . . . maybe Berlin? or via Switzerland? that they're going to wind up the circus, the merry-go-round in the clouds, the R. A.F. fantasia, the storms that nobody's afraid of any more . . . that we're going to see something! razed to a crisp like Dresden! . . . that our half hour has come? . . . maybe tabasco Frucht knows all that? so this is the time to indulge . . . to help herself! . . .
tanzerin . . . barizerin
. . . maybe?