North (17 page)

I'm not going to depress Lili or Le Vig, those are things you keep to yourself . . . Anyway, this jerk von Leiden, the
Rittmeister
, seemed a little more acceptable than the Landrat in Moorsburg . . . we'd see . . . but first let's look around . . . the family, the estate across the way, the farms, the other side of the park . . . sure . . . while we're about it . . . Here we are! . . . really large-scale agriculture . . . barns . . . barns . . . mooing . . . manure pits . . . very hard for the nose to distinguish which is most acrid, what flows from the pigs? . . . from the cows? or from the silos? . . . puddles, streams all over . . . a pool of urine and manure in the middle of the yard . . . I know something about it . . . force of circumstances . . . I've handled, by hand, whole wagonloads of manure and urine, every squadron in the 12th, and I can say authoritatively that uns here is pungent . . . especially the beet juice . . .

Two men in a doorway. I see they're talking about us . . . not Polacks or Russians or Fritzes . . . there are different kinds of sloppiness . . . they're French no less . . . oh, not friendly, not chummy . . . they just glom us from the distance . . . a third comes out from the barn . . . ah, they're saying something, motioning us to come over . . . "Where you from?" One's from Saint-Germain . . . one from the Var . . . the third from Haute-Marne . . . what interests them is Le Vig's weed! . . . okay. . . I slip them two packs . . . cigarettes come, first, before soup, before butter, before liquor . . . irresistible! . . . Harras is just crossing the yard, he's going over to see the son and daughter-in-law, to announce our visit . . . just then the three of them ask us:

"Deportees?"

"No,
collabos!"

If I didn't tell them they'd find out . . .

"Okay, well fill you in, we know these people . . . you've never seen more two-timing murderous hogs! . . . the bigger cons they are, the crummier they get! . . . the basket case, Inge, the bowlegged old bastard, all the same! plus the
Landrat!
you'll see! . . ."

They make motions:

"Their pockets . . . bursting! . . . enormous! . . . like this! look around! the barns are full! but they let us starve! . . . they're loaded! . . . and they won't give us a carrot! you'll get a load of their System! . . . they'll roll you in clover! . . . that's what you came for, isn't it? . . . you're not the first! . . . take it from me, they're not fat when they leave . . . skin and bones! . . . you won't be either . . . you'll never see them eat! . . . they stoke in their rooms! at the table, nothing! . . . pure water their mahlzeit, nothing in it! . . .
heil!
for your benefit, nothing in it! you're not the first boarders! . . . Fats Harras, you know what he comes for?"

"No."

"To fuck Inge and get butter and stuff!"

"He takes care of himself . . ."

"That's for sure, the fat bastard! . . . crummier than the guy in Moorsburg! Simmer . . . you know him?"

"Oh yes . . ."

"His only idea is getting us shot! . . . three yesterday! . . . escaped from the camp, so he says! . . . any excuse. . . he fucks Baroness Leiden too! . . . he and Harras are hand in glove! . . . he comes here for chickens, butter, and eggs too! you'll see!"

"Delightful!"

"Over where you are it's something else again, the old man goes for the kids . . . he spanks them . . . then he takes his pants down and they whip him! . . . his little maids, seen them? his punishment;
wham, bam!
till the blood comes! his vice! but he's good for a laugh! not the
Landrat!"

Just then Harras comes down from the farm . . . the little stairway . . . he's buttoning his fly . . .

"Here's your guy! . . . hold it!"

They step back into the doorway . . .

"Try and swipe another pack!"

"Okay . . ."

"Come over tonight after the
mahlzett
. . ."

Harras had come to pick us up . . .

"Madame, and you my friends, I'm going to introduce you . . . von Leiden the younger, you'll see . . . cripple, always in a bad humor, but she'll be glad to see you . . . she'll invite you to dinner. . ."

We follow him . . . a cement walk . . . between two pools . . . liquid manure . . . enormous barnyard . . . turkeys, chickens, especially geese . . . we hear grunts . . . a barn the other side of the silos . . . pigs coming out . . . led by the man from Haute-Marne . . . we climb the little stairway . . . here we are in the parlor . . . Madame Inge von Leiden and her husband . . . salutations . . . I see the cripple huddled in an armchair . . . he hardly looks at us . . . hostile . . . she puts herself out a bit . . . very well preserved . . . about forty . . . what they call a well set-up woman . . . tall, shapely, a certain charm . . . smiling but distant . . . but if somebody made up to her? maybe . . . now's the time for our Le Vigan, our No. 1 lady-killer to show his mettle . . .

No soap . . . one of his pensive moods . . .

"And you, Monsieur?"

"Oh, thank you, Madame!"

He freaks out . . . heartbreaking . . . the dashing blade, the ardent lover ,". . . pure ice! that what Zornhof does to him? Lovely prospect, the cripple, the
Landrat
, Le Vig . . . up to me to be amiable all by myself . . . Lili didn't speak German except for
komm mit!
meaning that Bébert should follow her . . . he did . . . he crossed, all Germany twice, Constance to Flensburg, under a hail of machine-gun bullets and bombs! in and out of five writhing armies! . . . the finish! . . . phosphorus, armored trains! . . . never an inch from Lili! a cat that never obeyed anybody . . .
komm mit!
that did it, the only German words that appealed to him, the only ones Lili ever learned . . . there with the cripple and his wife, I knocked myself out . . . I talk about the beauty of the countryside, the magnificent vistas . . . no answer . . . actually from the bay windows of their dining room you can see rutabagas, cabbages, enormous flocks of geese . . . and more geese! . . . a few sheep . . . and far . . . far in the distance, like a backdrop the big forest, the sequoias . . . and a few men . . . Russians, I guess from their boots . . . and women . . . they must be Russian too the way they tie their belts above their bosoms . . . kids all around them, clouting each other, tumbling between the grownups, laughing . . . when it stops being a kid, humanity gets gloomy, the movies don't help . . . not at all! . . . what has it got to be cheerful about? . . . only a complete alcoholic can think life is funny . . . any life! . . . there in the vast spaces of Zornhof, in and out of the potatoes, those barefooted kids were having a ball . . . chucking turnips! chucking carrots! girls versus boys! . . . later, when you've got shoes you're afraid of getting them dirty . . . at that age you don't give a damn,
bam!
a clout! another clout! . . . Lili wanted to go out and have fun with the kids! she wasn't haying fun with us . . . the cripple, the daughter-in-law, and Harras . . . Le Vigan more and more pensive . . . not very promising . . . 

"You'll be happy with the Kretzers, they'll take care of you . . ." 

Inge passes us on to these Kretzers . . . Harras had warned me . . . not very prepossessing either of them . . . he was "executive clerk" of the
Dienstelle
. . . the rural annex of die
Reichsgesundt 
. . . in case Grünwald was wiped off the map, in case it went out of existence altogether, even the caverns . . . oh, perfectly possible . . .

In the end Inge, her name was Inge, talks to me just a little . . . about the farm . . . the difficulties . . . I couldn't imagine! . . . they'd only stayed at the farm because of the gasoline shortage and the air raids in Berlin . . . this yard was so foul . . . the puddles and the stench of the silos . . . had we noticed? and worst of all; it doesn't rain enough, nothing grows! . . . this drought since the beginning of the war . . . we're doing all right . . . I see! can ask her:

"You have two Frenchmen here, I believe?"

"Yes, two . . . one for the pigs, Joseph . . . the other for the gardens, Léonard . . ."

I don't see anything funny . . . she laughs . . .

"Those two don't like us!"

The cripple interrupts . . . 

"Don't be a nitwit! They hate us! . . . how can you expect French people to like us? . . . why not the Poles? . . . or the Russians? . . . or the Chinese? . . . enemies! they want to kill us all, don't they, Harras? . . . and these people, what are they doing here?"

"Now now . . . come along! angry man! you just haven't slept well . . ."

Inge thinks he's gone too far, that we might be offended . . .

"My husband is in a bad humor! . . . very bad! . . . you know him, Harras, he was in pain all night! forgive him! abominable humor!"

He rejects the abominable humor! . . . he sticks to his guns . . .

"No! . . . no! I know what I'n saying! . . . all these people are spies! . . . saboteurs! that's what they've come here for! you nitwit!"

"Come, come! go lie down! you're being rude! . . . I'll see our visitors out . . . Harras, if you please . . ."

And to us:

"You must forgive him! the sight of you brings on his jealousy! I can't always be giving him injections!"

"Oh, of course not!"

I understand perfectly . . . so does Harras . . . we leave . . . As we pass the barn, the two Frenchmen, Joseph and Léonard, motion to me . . . they want another smoke . . . "okay! okay!" these two, I see, we're in luck, they're willing to tolerate us . . . I oblige . . . Camels? . . . Navy Cut? okay! . . . we leave the farm, the Kretzers were just coming to get us . . . as affable as can be! they bow to Inge von Leiden . . . we get warm handshakes . . . he's weird, pre-1914, pince-nez and lustrine sleeves . . . Madame is the nervous housewife type, doesn't seem stupid, pretty keen actually, but a bitch . . . she wears the pants . . . okay! . . . the trick for us, since we're going to be dependent on her for victual? is to get her not to mind us . . . he's got an armband and a swastika in his buttonhole, but he cuts no ice . . . she does the talking and deciding . . . they show us our pad again, we've seen it, the tower room with the folding bed, the basin and pitcher . . . ah, and a chromo of Frederick . . . I hadn't noticed . . . Fredericks all over the place . . . more Fredericks than Hitlers! . . . downstairs in the old man's room at least five! . . . I'd forgotten to tell you . . . They insist on our looking through our slit, the beautiful park, the walk designed by Mansard . . . the leaves falling so gracefully, the enormous ash trees . . . autumn . . . lots of titmice . . . getting cool. . . we haven't come here for the fun of it . . . we're here for the cure . . . I think about those cigarettes for Léonard and Joseph . . .

"You'll be coming often, Harras?"

"As often . . . as long as we have gas . . ."

He has more to say:

"Be that as it may, there's something I'd like you to dunk about, colleague, you'll have plenty of time!. . . for me! medical and historical . . . for me! . . . I'll speak to you about it after dinner . . . I'll be dining at the von Leidens oyer at the farm . . . you will eat downstairs with the young ladies of the
Dienstelle
. . . you'll meet them . . . and Monsieur and Madame Kretzer! . . . oh yes, and Kracht! remember that name, Kracht! . . . my confidential agent here! . . . I don't trust the others, not one bit! . . . he phones me every day . . . if you have any complaints . . . tell him . . . nobody else!"

Not a bad thing to know . . . when you're a hunted man, the tiniest speck of information can save your neck . . . this Kracht didn't exactly appeal to me . . . but the mugs on those Kretzers! . . . we'd see when Harras had left . . . And this work of his? . . . history and science? . . . what was the point? something to tire us out . . . fatigue is a great luxury, punishable and very rightly so . . . your galley slave falls asleep, his oar gores him in the belly, out come his guts . . . serves him right! . . . if you're hated, if millions and millions of disembowellers are hot on your trail, there's only one thing you can do: never sleep!

Our situation was much too serious for sleep! I'd read it in all the papers! . . . we were really out on a limb . . .

But where were we? Zornhof! I've got you back! Our first dinner at the
Dienstelle
board . . . the manor house dining-room, not very cheerful . . . we could hardly see each other . . . the shade of the big trees . . . two candles at the ends of the table . . . the secretary ladies are friendly enough, but less than in Grünwald . . . only one tries to talk to us, a little hunchback . . . ah, here's Kracht! . . . the bookkeeper introduces us . . . he's wearing an SS uniform . . . he's a pharmacist in civilian life . . . now he's SS leader of Zornhof . . . he's been on the Eastern Front, now he's resting . . . not repulsive . . . but not very outgoing . . . he seems to believe in his thing . . . really the first Nazi that's something like what they're supposed to be like, a stubborn thickhead . . . ferocious? probably . . . not old, about thirty . . . amusing,'' a Nazi Homais! . . . ah, he's talking! . . . we listen . . . I translate for Lili and Le Vig . . . the news, the communiqué . . .

"Say . . . the plot . . . ask him . . ."

Le Vigan wants to know . . . not the right question, it seems to me . . . but Kracht has heard him . . .

Traitors exist! yes! . . . they will be punished!"

Very simple . . . he repeats in German so the whole table can understand . . . they all go
ja! ja! sicher!
certainly! . . . Monsieur and Madame Kretzer too . . . Kracht has to report the "table talk". . . the others know . . . as for the meal, I don't see much . . . la Kretzer asks for our coupons . . . Lili hands them over . . . and now, what will it be? . . . a young lady brings in a soup tureen . . . we each get three ladlesful of some insipid lukewarm liquid . . . I don't see the secretaries touching it or the Kretzers or Kracht . . . they most be putting us on . . . well see about the next course . . . there isn't any next course! . . . Madame Kretzer says
mahlzeit
in a loud voice and gets up . . . everybody gets up . . .
Heil Hitler! 
. . . that's it! . . . they put back their chairs very carefully and off they go . . . where to? . . . the office? . . . their rooms? . . . we ask for a little scrap for Bébert . . . scrap of what? . . . here comes the little scrap! . . . half a potato in some kind of gravy . . . ! don't say a word . . . Le Vig does . . . out loud . . .