Free Castle to Castle by Louis-Ferdinand Céline Page A

blackjacked! . . . and how! . . . laid out cold . . . his ulcer bled for six months . . . poor bastard, I won't bring him back to life . . . there's no street named after him like so many other people . . . if he'd done the blackjacking, there'd be a rue Roudière . . . what a joke! Talking this way, about one thing and another . . . reminds me of the murder in the Maison Verte . . . the stiff that disappeared . . . nothing unusual, a murder in a bar, at the counter . . . the spice, the mystery . . . is that  they never found the corpse! They saw it happen . . . they saw the guy fold! with two knives in his back . . . he was through! By the time they'd notified the cops to come see . . . and gone for a stretcher . . . the stiff had blown . . . naturally somebody must have given him a hand . . . They arrest everybody . . . the owner, the witness, the maid, the whole shebang! an hour later the bulls come back! dirty work at the crossroads! the corpse was there, back again . . . the same one! with three knives in his back! . . . that was going too far! . . . they go back to Headquarters, spread the alarm . . . but by the time they'd got back to the bar the corpse had blown again! absolutely! hide-and-seek! . . . in the end they gave up . . . From one memory to another . . . Maison Verte . . . Porte Pouchet . . . I got to talking about St Vincent de Paul . . .
    "And how about St. Vincent de Paul?"
    The famous old people's home . . . I've tended patients there too . . . sick inmates and nuns . . .
    "How much does it cost now at St. Vincent de Paul?"
    All old people worry about that . . . it's their obsession . . . the price of board at old people's homes . . . my mother and father collected the prospectuses of the Bonnaviat Foundation, the Garigari Foundation, the Petits Ménages at Euques-sur-Ourque . . . in my state, I must admit the  place for me would be St. Vincent de Paul . . .
    "You know how much they ask?"
    "Oh, in the old days it wasn't expensive . . . in the old days . . . but now . . . now, Doctor . . . it's 1,200 francs a day! . . ."
    "A day?"
    "Yes, yes . . . a day!"
    "You think so? You really think so, Madame?"
    That really wraps it up! . . . 1,200 francs at St Vincent de Paul . . . might as well stay with Abbé Pierre . . . same racket . . . If you ask me, that takes the green banana . . . 1,200 francs a day . . . When I think of what Lili and I had to live on . . . a far cry from 1,200 smackers! . . . what things have come to . . . it takes a genius to keep alive . . . For Brottin, of course, 1,200 francs is a joke . . with his two thousand authors in the cellar, two thousand frantic workers! . . . his Titans of the Lavender Seriss, turning them out with a crank . . . mimeographs, plagiographs . . . and so on . . . they'll give him a pension of ten million . . . Achille's as good as the Bank of France! with his authors in the cellar. . . turn the crank! and bingo! round and round! . . . he and his publishing house, his whole clique and family . . . they've all got so much bread they can't even count it . . . in thirty-six banks! all in the cellar! authors and money! . . . just go take a look at the pyramids, the impressive exterior is nothing, it's what's underneath that counts! deep down in the crypts! there sits the mummy with his goldl and his two thousand author-slaves! and sniveling Loukoum! . . . his Loukoum! . . . his private castrator! the gluttonous monster! slug mouth, hungry for shit, never leaves a scrap! the shit's in a drawing room? good! hoopla! there he slithers! dinner is served! . . . floods of slime . . . he sucks it in, he oozes it out! gulp, gulp! . . . that's him all right!
    Okay, but meanwhile my patient, my old friend, had struck me a hard blow! I was aghast . . . 1,200 francs at St. Vincent de Paul! our future, mine and Lili's, looked grim . . .
    Oh, you'll say, what about gas? You complain about the gas bills? . . . just give yourself the gas! . . . chin up! . . . read your favorite