Antal Szerb - Oliver VII

“What are you saying?” he asked, appalled. “Do you really think that?”

“Of course,” she replied, and burst into tears. “Oh, Oscar, the moment you saw me in this mascara you looked on me as someone different — someone utterly different. A woman can tell. You’re already bored with me, Oscar! You’d much rather have a real lady! A baroness, or something. You worm!”

“Not in the least,” he lied: “not in the least, my angel. You’re the only one I love. Don’t cry.”

He tried to hold her in his arms and console her, but she pushed him away angrily.

“You liar, you liar! You haven’t been kissing me. Don’t you dare speak to me. I’ve had enough. You can go to the devil. Go to your baroness.”

“Please, Marcelle, this is very important,” he said quietly. “I have to explain something to you … ”

In truth, he would have loved to explain this double reality to himself, and the whole turmoil of feelings contending inside him.

“No explanations! I know how stupid you are. When a man has to ‘explain’ it’s always been worse than you thought.”

“Don’t talk so much, my angel. I really must explain. It’s true I find you attractive in a different way, in all this make-up, but … ”

“Oscar!”

“Don’t shout, angel, don’t shout, just for a moment. The reason why I find you so attractive is that you aren’t a real princess, but, well … because you are Marcelle. That is to say, because you are what you are. How the devil can I put this into words? Look, there are umbrellas that look like sticks, yes?”

“So they say.”

“So you see,” he said triumphantly. “There are books that when you open them you find sugar inside, and there are slide rules you can use as thermometers, and there are trouser-braces with compasses in them, so do you now understand?”

“Twaddle!”

“You see, there’s nothing more exciting than when you’re one person and also someone else … and you see how different the two of them are, and the separate worth of each … ”

“What a lot of twaddle you talk, Oscar!”

“Quite right, Marcelle. Why am I talking so much? When all I want to say, is how horribly much I love you.”

“So why do you still love me?” she asked, nuzzling up close to him.

“I love you because you are such a straightforward girl, I mean about life,” the King said, more to himself than to her. “The other woman, the Princess … would never know how to say ‘twaddle’, especially not in that dress … Please, say it again: ‘twaddle!’”

“Twaddle,” she replied, in a voice that wavered, full of love.

“You angel!” At that moment he loved her more than ever. But at the same moment he also loved Ortrud more than ever. It was as if she were the one who had said the word ‘twaddle’. It showed her in a completely new light. She was no longer merely the daughter of the Gracious Empress Hermina. She had suddenly acquired the interest, and the mystery, of a woman.

They kissed again.

“Oh, Oscar … if only it were night,” she whispered.

“Yes, indeed,” he replied. And then a sudden horror seized him. “Holy God … tonight … ”

“What is it? What’s wrong with you?”

“Marcelle, tonight is still a long way away … so much could happen before then!”

“Such as?”

“Such as … a serpent rising out of the sea.”

“Have you gone mad?”

“Of course not. It’s happened a thousand times in the past, in history.”

He began kissing her with real passion, filled with grief at the approaching separation.

“Let me go, Oscar — you’ve completely ruined my princess face. What’s the matter with you? You were always such a quiet boy … ”

“I had time to spare then. I always believed that I’d start really loving you the next day. But now … ”

He pulled her close once again, and started to kiss her.

Being French, Marcelle liked to talk in moments of passion.

“Oh, Oscar … I love it, you’re like an express train … like a wild sheikh … like a bartender at closing time … ”

At just that moment in came Valmier, in full livery and side whiskers.

“Hey!” he said, and went up to the King, who hadn’t noticed the arrival in the heat of his ardour.

“That’s quite enough, old boy,” he observed, and clapped him on the shoulder.

The King spun round, seized him by the throat, then immediately released him.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, “harbinger of the sea serpent.”

“Tell me, girl,” Valmier asked Marcelle: “Does this man pass as normal with you people?”

Then, turning to the King:

“Now, get a move on. Pronto! The boss is calling for you. He wants a word with you right away.”

“Coming,” the King replied. “So then … tonight, Marcelle.”

“Hey, old boy, hang on a sec!” Valmier shouted after him. “Look, you’d better tell St Germain it’s not on.”

“What do you mean? What’s not on?”

“What I said earlier. Just my expenses, my livery, my travel … it’ll cost you people at least three hundred lire.”

“Three hundred?” Marcelle laughed. “You’ll be lucky. There aren’t three hundred lire in the whole building.”

“I don’t care — that’s your problem,” Valmier said, furiously. “What a bunch of … And this is what I left the old Yank for!”

“Look, Jean,” Marcelle replied. “Just be a little patient. Tomorrow, money will be raining down on us. Isn’t the name of St Germain good enough, in our line of trade?”

“I’ve heard of better. I think he’s gone a bit senile. Well, old boy, you can tell him that if I don’t get my three hundred lire, I quit.”

Marcelle began to plead with him.

“Jean, you couldn’t leave us in such a fix? Jean — for my sake …!”

“For your sake? Not for yours, or anyone else’s. I’m going on strike. This minute.”

And he ripped off his beard.

“Holy God,” Marcelle shouted. “Oscar, talk to the Count!”

“I’ll send him up straight away,” the King replied, and raced off.

Valmier came up to Marcelle.

“Marcelle, I sent that jerk away so I could ask you: how serious is this thing? Do you really like that puppy?”

Marcelle turned away and replied, almost as if ashamed:

“Well … yes … I do. Why?”

“Rubbish. What do you see in him? He hasn’t got a clue about anything. Uselessness is written all over him. The only thing he’s good for is a fall guy when the cops arrive.”

“Yes, I know. But perhaps that’s just why I love him. You know, he is just a little bit soft in the head. He was going on just now about some serpent from the sea.”

“Marcelle, this whole thing is just wrong for you.”

“I think so, too,” she said, sadly. “He’s starting to get bored with me.”

“So it’s obvious. In your place I wouldn’t wait for the bloke to dump me.”

“And …?”

“Clear out. Marcelle, this whole thing really isn’t making you happy. There’s going to be a complete smash-up, and we two’ll have the cops round our necks.”

“Nonsense. What makes you think so?”

“You don’t think anyone with any intelligence will believe this chum of yours is a king? This infant? This halfwit? It’s a joke. The moment your mister claps eyes on this king of yours, the whole thing’ll go up in smoke.”

“You think so?”

“I’d lay good money on it. And then you’ll all be in the nick.”

“My God, and my diamond ring’s gone down the spout.”

“I’m telling you, we’d better get out before it’s too late. Marcelle, come with me. I’ve got this gondolier friend; he’ll take your things to the station.”