Joseph Roth - Three Novellas

“I have a debt to repay,” said Andreas.

“What? Today? On a Sunday?” asked the beautiful girl.

“Yes, today, Sunday,” replied Andreas.

“Is it a man or a woman you owe money to?”

“A woman,” said Andreas, a little hesitantly.

“What’s her name?”

“Thérèse.”

Thereupon the beautiful girl leapt out of bed, clenched both her fists and started pummeling Andreas with them.

He fled the room, left the hotel, and, without any further deviation, made straight for Sainte Marie des Batignolles, completely confident that today at last he would be able to repay little Thérèse her two hundred francs.

13

Now, as providence would have it — or, as less devout people would say, luck — Andreas once more arrived just too late for the ten o’clock Mass. And, not unnaturally, he once again caught sight of the bistro across the square, where he had gone to drink on the previous occasion, and it was there that he went this time as well.

He ordered a drink. But, canny man that he was, as all the poor people in the world are canny, even after they have been showered with one miracle after another, he first checked the state of his wallet, and took it out of his breast pocket. And he saw that his nine hundred and eighty francs were almost completely gone.

He had only two hundred and fifty left. He thought awhile, and realized that the beautiful girl in the hotel must have taken his money. But our Andreas wasn’t at all upset by that. He told himself that enjoyment had to be paid for, that he had enjoyed himself, and that he therefore had had to pay.

He wanted to wait here until he heard the bells, the church bells ringing people to Mass, before crossing the square and settling his debt to the little saint. But until then he wanted to drink, and he ordered something to drink. He drank. The bells began to ring, summoning people to Mass, and he called, “Waiter, the bill please!” and he paid, got up, went out, and just outside the door he collided with a very tall broad-shouldered man. “Wojtech!” he cried instantly. And the other, just as quickly: “Andreas!” They fell into one another’s arms, because they had been miners together in Quebecque, both of them working in the same pit.

“Why don’t you wait here till I come back,” said Andreas, “I’ll be twenty minutes, just as long as Mass takes, not a moment longer!”

“Not a bit of it,” said Wojtech. “When did you start going to Mass anyway? If there’s anyone I hate more than priests, it’s the people who go to them.”

“But I’m going to little Thérèse,” said Andreas, “I owe her some money.

“Do you mean little St Thérèse?” asked Wojtech.

“Yes, her,” replied Andreas.

“How much do you owe her?” asked Wojtech.

“Two hundred francs!” said Andreas.

“In that case I’ll go with you!” said Wojtech.

The bells were still ringing. They went into the church and as they stood in the aisle, and Mass was just beginning, Wojtech hissed: “Give me a hundred francs, will you! I’ve just remembered that there’s someone waiting for me outside, otherwise he’ll have me put away!”

Andreas immediately handed over both of the hundred-franc notes he had, and said: “I’ll see you out there in a minute.”

But when it dawned on him that he no longer had the money with which to repay Thérèse, it seemed pointless to him to spend any more time at Mass. Forbearance alone kept him there for another five minutes, then he went back over to the bistro where he found Wojtech waiting for him.

From that moment on, as they assured one another, they were best mates.

In fact, Wojtech didn’t have a friend waiting outside, to whom he owed money. He took one of the two hundred-franc notes that Andreas had lent him, and carefully wrapped it in his handkerchief and knotted it up. With the other one, he bought him a drink, and another, and another, and in the evening they went to the house where the obliging girls roosted, and they holed up there for three days, and when they emerged again, it was Tuesday, and Wojtech took leave of Andreas with the words: “Let’s meet up again on Sunday, same time, same place.”

“See you then!” said Andreas.

“See you!” said Wojtech, and vanished.

14

It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon, and the rain was so heavy that, a moment later, Wojtech had actually vanished. Or at least so it seemed to Andreas. It seemed to him that he had lost his friend in the rain, just as he had chanced to bump into him earlier, and since he only had thirty-five francs left, and believing himself to be fortune’s spoilt darling, and fully confident of further miracles, he decided, like all poor men and habitual drinkers, to entrust himself to god, to the only god he believed in. So he went back down the familiar steps, back down to the Seine, to the home of all the homeless vagrants.

There he bumped into a man who was just about to go up the steps, and who struck him as familiar. Accordingly, Andreas greeted him with great politeness. The elderly, spruce gentleman stopped, looked closely at Andreas and finally asked: “My dear chap, do you need any money?”

Andreas recognized the voice of the gentleman he had met three weeks previously in the same place. So he replied: “I know full well I still owe you money, and I promised to take it along to St Thérèse. But you see, things kept cropping up. In fact, I’ve already made three attempts to pay the money back.”

“There must be some mistake,” said the elderly, well-dressed gentleman, “I don’t have the honor of your acquaintance. You must have mistaken me for someone else, but it looks to me as though you’re in a spot of difficulty. Now, you mentioned St Thérèse, and you must know that I am personally so devoted to her that I am naturally prepared to advance you whatever sum you owe her. What is the sum, if you please?”

“Two hundred francs,” replied Andreas, “but honestly, you don’t know me! I’m a man of my word, and you’ll hardly be able to send me a bill. I have my honor, but I have no address. Each night I sleep under one of these bridges.”

“Oh, that’s all right!” said the gentleman. “That’s where I sleep too. In accepting this money from me, you’ll be doing me a favor for which I shan’t be able to thank you enough. Because I too am so beholden to little Thérèse!”

“In that case,” said Andreas, “consider me at your disposal.”

He took the money, waited till the gentleman had climbed the steps, and then he climbed up to the quay himself and went directly to the Rue des Quatre Vents, to his old haunt, the Russian-Armenian restaurant Tari-Bari, where he stayed until Saturday night. He then remembered that the following day was Sunday, and that he had an assignation at the church of Sainte Marie des Batignolles.

15

The Tari-Bari was crowded, because many clochards would put up there for days, sleeping behind the bar by day, and on the benches at night. Andreas got up very early on Sunday, less to be sure of arriving in time for Mass, than for fear that the landlord would demand payment from him for drink and food and lodging for so many days.

But he miscalculated, because the landlord had got up even earlier than he had. The landlord had known him a long time, and so he knew that our Andreas was inclined to take every opportunity of avoiding paying his bills. And so our Andreas was made to pay, from Tuesday till Sunday, for a lot of food and drink, in fact for rather more than he had personally consumed. For the landlord of the Tari-Bari was able to distinguish between those of his customers who were numerate and those who weren’t. And our Andreas, like many drinkers, belonged to the category of the latter. There fore he paid a great part of the money he had, and then, nothing daunted, set off for the Chapelle de Sainte Marie des Batignolles. He realized, though, that he no longer had enough money to repay Thérèse. But in fact his thoughts were as much on his rendezvous with his friend Wojtech, as on his little creditress.