mess.’
‘De Gaulle may be a madman,’ Alain said, ‘but perhaps a madman is what France needs just now.’
‘Absolutely,’ Aramis said, ‘Joan of Arc was probably crazy and think what she achieved.’
‘And Hitler’s a certifiable lunatic,’ Léon said, ‘who hasn’t done badly, I’m sorry to say.’
Two men approached.
‘Yes, that’s him,’ one of them said.
Léon looked up and recognised Monsieur Dupuy who had been an assistant manager at the bank.
‘You’re sure?’ the other, who was wearing white drill trousers and a white shirt, said.
‘No doubt at all.’
The man in white stepped forward, seized Léon by the arm and hauled him to his feet.
‘Out,’ he said, ‘and don’t try this on again. Out.’ He shook Léon, and said, ‘Just think yourself lucky I don’t give you a boot up the arse.’
‘What the hell is all this about?’ Alain leaped to his feet. ‘Leave my friend alone. Who do you think you are anyway?’
‘I’m the pool supervisor and Jews are not welcome here, not only not welcome, but prohibited.’
Aramis said, ‘Surely you’re speaking the wrong language, my dear man? Don’t you mean “Juden sind verboten”?’
The supervisor swung his arm and caught Aramis on the mouth as he got to his feet. Blood spurted from his lower lip.
‘I give you two minutes to be off, all four of you, or I call the police.’
‘Do that,’ Alain said, ‘and I’ll give you in charge for assaulting my friend.’
‘Like I say,’ M. Dupuy addressed the crowd that was gathering around, ‘it’s always the same, wherever they go, Jews cause trouble. Jews and Jew-lovers. Lice, that’s what they are, lice and sexual perverts, take my word for it. Well, their time’s up, here in France, just as it is in Germany. You can’t deny that Hitler knows the way to deal with them.’
‘Do you know what you are?’ Alain said, ‘You’re a fucking Fascist, and what’s worse, I expect you’re proud of it.’
Porthos laid his hand on Alain’s arm.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘don’t make things worse. It’s all right,’ he said to the supervisor, ‘we’re going.’
‘And don’t come back, any of you.’
Outside Léon struggled to hold back tears of anger and shame. When Porthos said, ‘Are you really a Jew, Athos?’ all he could do was nod.
‘And if he is,’ Alain said, ‘does it matter to you?’
‘Never said it did, did I? I just like to know what’s what.’
‘Bastards,’ Alain said. ‘Now you know what we’re fighting against.’
‘I thought we were fighting against the Germans,’ Porthos said.
‘There’s no difference,’ Alain said, ‘between the Germans and French Fascists.’
‘I’m not very bright,’ Porthos said, ‘as you’ve often made clear to me, old chap, but as I see it, there is a difference. The Boches are a foreign army of Occupation and our enemies. French Fascists are whether you like it or not French. And there seem to be quite a few of them.’
Léon said, ‘I’m sorry if I have embarrassed you.’
His voice was unsteady and he felt ashamed again, to be apologising, or seem to be apologising, for what he was.
‘Not at all, old chap. Just like to know where I stand. Hadn’t occurred to me that you were a Jew. That’s all.’
‘And does it matter to you, now that you know?’
‘Not a lot. I don’t think so. You seem all right and Alain here vouches for you. That’s good enough for me. It’s just that I don’t know any Jews, except a few rich ones whom I don’t much care for.
That’s all.’
‘Aramis,’ Léon said, ‘your poor mouth. It’s still bleeding. Here, take my handkerchief.’
Aramis took it and dabbed his mouth.
‘If I’ve got a scar,’ he said, ‘I’ll wear it as a badge of honour.’
XIX
Lannes had tried to persuade Schnyder to send a summons to the advocate Labiche.
‘He’ll find some excuse to ignore it, or will simply ignore it without any excuse if it comes from me,’ he
‘De Gaulle may be a madman,’ Alain said, ‘but perhaps a madman is what France needs just now.’
‘Absolutely,’ Aramis said, ‘Joan of Arc was probably crazy and think what she achieved.’
‘And Hitler’s a certifiable lunatic,’ Léon said, ‘who hasn’t done badly, I’m sorry to say.’
Two men approached.
‘Yes, that’s him,’ one of them said.
Léon looked up and recognised Monsieur Dupuy who had been an assistant manager at the bank.
‘You’re sure?’ the other, who was wearing white drill trousers and a white shirt, said.
‘No doubt at all.’
The man in white stepped forward, seized Léon by the arm and hauled him to his feet.
‘Out,’ he said, ‘and don’t try this on again. Out.’ He shook Léon, and said, ‘Just think yourself lucky I don’t give you a boot up the arse.’
‘What the hell is all this about?’ Alain leaped to his feet. ‘Leave my friend alone. Who do you think you are anyway?’
‘I’m the pool supervisor and Jews are not welcome here, not only not welcome, but prohibited.’
Aramis said, ‘Surely you’re speaking the wrong language, my dear man? Don’t you mean “Juden sind verboten”?’
The supervisor swung his arm and caught Aramis on the mouth as he got to his feet. Blood spurted from his lower lip.
‘I give you two minutes to be off, all four of you, or I call the police.’
‘Do that,’ Alain said, ‘and I’ll give you in charge for assaulting my friend.’
‘Like I say,’ M. Dupuy addressed the crowd that was gathering around, ‘it’s always the same, wherever they go, Jews cause trouble. Jews and Jew-lovers. Lice, that’s what they are, lice and sexual perverts, take my word for it. Well, their time’s up, here in France, just as it is in Germany. You can’t deny that Hitler knows the way to deal with them.’
‘Do you know what you are?’ Alain said, ‘You’re a fucking Fascist, and what’s worse, I expect you’re proud of it.’
Porthos laid his hand on Alain’s arm.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘don’t make things worse. It’s all right,’ he said to the supervisor, ‘we’re going.’
‘And don’t come back, any of you.’
Outside Léon struggled to hold back tears of anger and shame. When Porthos said, ‘Are you really a Jew, Athos?’ all he could do was nod.
‘And if he is,’ Alain said, ‘does it matter to you?’
‘Never said it did, did I? I just like to know what’s what.’
‘Bastards,’ Alain said. ‘Now you know what we’re fighting against.’
‘I thought we were fighting against the Germans,’ Porthos said.
‘There’s no difference,’ Alain said, ‘between the Germans and French Fascists.’
‘I’m not very bright,’ Porthos said, ‘as you’ve often made clear to me, old chap, but as I see it, there is a difference. The Boches are a foreign army of Occupation and our enemies. French Fascists are whether you like it or not French. And there seem to be quite a few of them.’
Léon said, ‘I’m sorry if I have embarrassed you.’
His voice was unsteady and he felt ashamed again, to be apologising, or seem to be apologising, for what he was.
‘Not at all, old chap. Just like to know where I stand. Hadn’t occurred to me that you were a Jew. That’s all.’
‘And does it matter to you, now that you know?’
‘Not a lot. I don’t think so. You seem all right and Alain here vouches for you. That’s good enough for me. It’s just that I don’t know any Jews, except a few rich ones whom I don’t much care for.
That’s all.’
‘Aramis,’ Léon said, ‘your poor mouth. It’s still bleeding. Here, take my handkerchief.’
Aramis took it and dabbed his mouth.
‘If I’ve got a scar,’ he said, ‘I’ll wear it as a badge of honour.’
XIX
Lannes had tried to persuade Schnyder to send a summons to the advocate Labiche.
‘He’ll find some excuse to ignore it, or will simply ignore it without any excuse if it comes from me,’ he
Similar Books
