Death on the Installment Plan (81 page)

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Authors: Louis-Ferdinand Celine

BOOK: Death on the Installment Plan
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“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:
“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 …

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