Death on the Installment Plan (80 page)

“I’ll take the hundred francs and the change … All right? … That’ll cover my trip at least … and maybe my expenses at the church … if I’m there five, six days … It can’t take any longer than that, can it? … that’ll be plenty, don’t you think? … But what about you? You’ve still got your addresses? … Do you remember all your bosses? …”

“I’ll go see the printer right away,” I said. “I’d rather start in that direction …”

She rummaged in the hole some more, she took out another twenty-franc piece, she gave it to me … Then she talked some more about Courtial … but she wasn’t so excited anymore …

“Ah, my little Ferdinand, you know … The more I think of it … the more it comes back to me … how fond he was of you … He didn’t show it, that’s a fact … You know that too … It wasn’t his way … his nature … he wasn’t demonstrative … he wasn’t a flatterer … You know that … But he was always thinking of you … In the worst situations he often told me so … Only a week ago … ‘You know, Irène, Ferdinand is somebody I’ve got faith in … He’ll never do us dirt … He’s young … He’s scatterbrained … But there’s a kid that’s as good as his word … He’ll keep a promise … And that, Irène, that’s rare …’ I can still hear him saying that … Ah, he appreciated you all right … He was sincerer than a friend … Take it from me . . , And the poor man, believe me, he had plenty to be distrustful about … He’d seen a thing or two … and how he’d been deceived … In thousands of ways, one more disgraceful than the last … He could have been embittered … Never did he say an unfavorable word about you … Never the least unpleasantness … Nothing but compliments … He’d have liked to spoil you … But as he said one time when we were having a little chat … ‘Wait just a little while … Patience … I’ll make that kid’s fortune yet …’ Ah, how well he understood you … You can’t imagine how fond he was of you …”

“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 …