Her Lover (116 page)

beret basque
and they're yuman when all is said and done, then a third cafe and the four workmen at the next table who'd finished their game of cards, don't it just make yer sick though exclaimed the loser he threw his cards down with feigned indignation which he intended to be funny to show that he wasn't bothered about losing that he was above such things and also to make out that he was a good sport who took it all in good part he turned to the winner and said you alius turn up aces but me the only thing I ever turn up is the gas which got a laugh, encouraged he went on and said to the winner you're wasted in your job you should have become a croupier, come a cropper more like replied the winner and there was another round of solid working-class guffaws, o' course said the oldest a chap likes winnin' it's only yuman nature but when you lose it don't do to grouse, quite right said the loser and he calmly produced the sum he had lost and handed it to the winner and said oh it don't do any good getting all hot and bothered and said it in a straight serious way to show he wasn't hiding how cut up he was the fourth member of the group who had red hair said to the winner we'd better phone the bank and tell 'em to fetch a van over to carry your winnin's away in but nobody laughed because he was a shy man and told his jokes with none of the authority of the strong, after a while I left I went into one of those little cafes where they have music-hall turns to entertain the customers I went in because of its name the San Fairy Ann the little curtain went up on the little stage and Damien came on Damien was down on the bill for Comic Songs poor Damien with his paunch large dyed moustache poached eyes jacket too tight key-chain hanging out of a dignified white waistcoat Damien was wearing the Military Cross he rubbed and wrung his large red hands to display his elegance and poise as he waited for the band to finish his introduction and then began singing articulating carefully poor conscientious failure who washed his feet once a week began singing a satirical song about rich people who give a lavish party and he pulled a posh face featuring demurely pouting lips, but nary a crust in the larder for my poor little ones and he raised both heavily ringed hands and clasped his head in despair, so to feed my pretty bairns I took to a life of crime and he waggled his ringed and tastefully thieving fingers, and when the song was over he made more washing motions with his hands while the band played the introduction for the next ditty which was another social protest involving the son of a rich mill-owner who seduces an honest factory-girl by showering her with kisses here Damien  caressed his backside,  and she was intoxicated by love here Damien's sausage fingers spiralled upwards like smoke, and the poor weak little thing got carried away here he raised one hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, and it all ended up with a lot of being sorry for girls who get into trouble girls who go wrong, yes darling your yes your frightens me, next on the bill was an enormously stout lady with very fat white hands who sang earthy songs she laughed as she came on to suggest that she was a card she beamed at the audience to suggest that she had them just where she wanted them to let them know that she had them in the palm of her hand then with the air of one accustomed to carrying all before her announced the title of the song she was about to sing The Cigarette Waltz dedicated to all smokers then said Maestro to the pianist to indicate that he could start, the last verse was devoted to the cigarette rolled by the man in the condemned cell and the tears of his grief-stricken mother, Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is One, O God whom I love I miss Thee every hour, if I forget Thee O Jerusalem let my right hand forget its cunning, next came Yamina the Oriental Dancer the net over her bosom was designed rather to prevent her breasts sagging than to hide them I felt so depressed my darling I thought of you Yamina's two girl assistants clapped their hands extravagantly but managed to do it silently, during the interval Yamina had a drink with the earthy songstress she said I'd give my eye-teeth for a really unusual dance routine you know costume with great big ostrich feathers and the rest of it what would make it a really big hit is that me and Marcel have both got fair hair, then afterwards streets and yet more streets and feeling ashamed as I walked through the door, the four girls sitting in the bar downstairs in negligees all stood up no I want to be left alone I gave them some money I drank a glass of rum two other girls at the next table to mine were sitting on the knees of a couple of soldiers the older one was being saucy to make herself seem younger poking her tongue out at her soldier pinching his ear, no that's what it costs to go upstairs that's separate from tips us girls depend on the generosity of our gentlemen see all we get is what the customers give us go on make it a round figure go on be nice and after we'll give you a good time me and my   friend   know   all   the   tricks   you just   see   if we   don't,   in Geneva the letter she read out to me to make me laugh a letter her husband Deume had got from his mother she had the brass-faced nerve to read it out to me, women will do anything to please the man they love, a letter about somebody called Adhemar van Offel who asks his aunt if God loves servants shall I imagine Adhemar talking to his aunt no use it as the basis of a little scene between the Countess de Surville and her son Patrice on a fine morning in summer in the spacious red and gold drawing-room of the ancestral castle a handsome boy of nine was sitting pensively beside his mother who was modestly bent over her needlework suddenly he made up his mind and tiptoed over to her Mother dear tell me does God love servants as much as he loves us who are pukka crust Madame de Surville buried her yearning face in her hands and remained thus for some time reflecting in silence while the boy with blond curls knelt trembling before his one-eyed mother staring radiantly at her then at length the Countess surfacing from her prolonged meditation held out both hands Yes my child God loves servants just as much as he loves us she replied simply and with a strange pallor in her face and eyes cast down, it was a bitter blow but the noble boy bore it without flinching yet as he tried to smile at his mother large tears could be seen trickling down his rosy cheeks, whereupon the Countess held him close Child child she said you stand upon the threshold of life you will encounter many rude surprises but I am confident that you will be able to meet them with courage like a man like a patriot like a true believer like a worthy son of your dear father who fell on the glorious field of battle, Yes Mother replied little Patrice who suddenly giving vent to his despair shook with great racking sobs I am grateful to you he added for thinking sufficiently well of me to tell me the honest truth please forgive me mother dear for momentarily showing something of the cruel disappointment I felt on hearing your words but you will concede Mother dear that God moves in mysterious ways, Dear child went on Madame de Surville I admit it gladly for the lower classes are sometimes such a disappointment and so terribly lacking in spirituality and other-worldly radiance, That I too in turn will concede the blond boy replied eagerly and would even go so far as to add that the crass materialism of humble folk has frequently offended my native delicacy of feeling the Prince of Wales being my ideal and also Marshal Foch and that it has only been by resorting to prayer that I have been able to overcome my revulsion but then you know who I take after he added cleverly catching the eye of his dear mother who blushed modestly, there followed a lengthy silence during which both mother and son seemed to gather new strength through the intense power of concentration little Patrice standing with his eyes turned heavenwards as though listening to choirs of angels through which he thought he could detect the voice of Dear Grandpapa who had also fallen gloriously on the field of battle, then at length patting his blond curls he asked his mother's permission to speak and waited with a delicate smile and well-bred deference, disturbed in her pious thoughts Madame de Surville started clasped her hand tremblingly to her heart and gave a half-stifled but gracious cry then acquiesced with such a sweet look on her ringlet-framed face, Mother dear another and even graver question torments me a question which perhaps Satan has whispered in my ear which is do you truly believe that God also loves those who have only recently taken out French nationality asked the child whose heart was beating so fast that he thought he would faint, the Countess de Surville collected her thoughts for a moment then looked at her son with her one good but luminous eye, Let us pray she said simply, and after letting her soul soar lengthily up to her Maker and having received an answer from on high she stood up suddenly and so fiercely that her hair came undone and her skirt unhitched itself and fell to the floor revealing a camisole and a pair of rather long frilly bloomers, Yes she cried impetuous and flame-cheeked, yes He loves naturalized persons He even loves strikers and strike-fomenters and the ring-leaders who have all come here from abroad He also loves those who have no roof over their heads stateless persons and even Jews and people in concentration camps, at these words Patrice sprang forward and kneeling before his mother kissed her hand passionately, You are a saint dear Mama he exclaimed, they talk about the destructive mind of the Jews but what can I do about it if they have turned Lucifer the bringer of light into the devil himself what can I do about it if barefoot in a long cymar with a lance in my hand the lance on which perch the moon-owl and all the birds of knowledge and of disquiet what can I do about it if my left eye is half-closed while the other is wide open and second-sighted what can I do about it if I see and know, they say destructive mind but what can I do about it if the dances they dance in their balls are pseudo-couplings the young men press the young women close against them and the mothers look on fondly oh the pure joy of the dance they say but in that case why sex to sex male against female they also say moral uplift because the dancers rub against each other to raise money for the benefit of needy folk who are not made millionaires thereby and wives go home with husbands after clinging to an assortment of strange men against whom they have rubbed while conversing politely on assorted elevated subjects, all's well in the world and they are not ashamed because it was only a dance the word being a sufficient alibi oh the sweet reek of rottenness, they say destructive mind but what can I do about it if they have decked with plumes of grandeur and beauty the strength which is the power to kill, oh the baboonish respect for strength for instance their passion for sport or the pure baboonish homage of mealy-mouthed ceremonial words which are tantamount to saying to the powerful You are the face of the Establishment you have the might of society behind you and are therefore dangerous being many whereas I am one and stand alone before you who represent the might of the many and are therefore able to break me at will and that is why I bend my knee, and what are the bowings and scrapings and obeisance of lesser mortals in the presence of greater men but a substitute and echo of baboonish submission which is none other than the posture of the female deferring on all fours to the dominant male, they say destructive mind but what can I do about it if I have seen and judged their esteemed statesmen, oh the pathetic lives led by politicians courting the moronic masses making them laugh now and then to be popular shaking unwashed hands doing deals with crooks and thieves always watching their step always watching their backs seeking ever greater influence or as the poor clowns put it rising up the ladder laying waste their energies in stratagems setting traps arranging the downfall of rivals losing sleep over it taking a hand in disputes between mortal nations which are as sordid as any family quarrel and all this so that they may rise above the crowd in other words that they may enjoy the respect of the mediocre oh the vulgar thirst for power, they say destructive mind but what can I do about it if disciples follow all too ready to step into the shoes of their revered masters, what can I do if cast away on a desert island, but that's enough about desert islands we know what happens on desert islands, what can I do about it if the peerless wife puts on lipstick and silk stockings the day after the funeral of the husband she adored and will remarry which is a thought too horrible to contemplate, what can I do if my poor girl yielded to animal persuasion and abandoned her Deume who was a decent man, what can I do if men are not good and gentle and make it impossible for me to love them, what can I do if vile servile apes go bed-hopping their way up the social ladder, I feel a sudden pity for the vileness the servility of the tribe of gorillas who don the clothes of men but keep their fangs sharpened poor fools they are afraid because this world of ours is a dangerous place a world of nature red in tooth and claw where a man must either bite or fawn on the biters and have money good jobs contacts protectors the vileness the servileness stem from fear poor clowns, they say destructive mind but what can I do about it if there is no point to the universe neither rhyme nor reason say I with the passion of the true believer what can I do about it if I know that all religions are empty childish magic and mumbo-jumbo because men do not have the courage to see nor do they wish to see that they are alone that they are cast adrift that there is nothing for them neither purpose here below nor life hereafter and what can I do about it if God does not exist it isn't my fault nor is it for want of loving Him and awaiting His coming, for the God I deny each day and love each day I feel a pride which is bottomless and comes down to me through all the length of centuries I am His priest and His Levite and in the synagogue with the fringed silk shawl upon my arm as a shield I proclaim day after day that my God liveth despite all my despairing unbelief, I proclaim Thee the Eternal God of my fathers God of earth and God of sea by the blast of the breath of Thy nostrils were the mountains overturned by Thy right hand was the thunder unleashed and Thy commands were borne upon the winds God of Abraham God of Isaac God of Jacob that didst grant the patriarchs a blessed old age and