William Gaddis - The Recognitions

— Sam Hall. Now. . leave me. Leave me. He signed for another glass. There was a tapping at his elbow.

— Get out! Vayal Fuera! Mr. Yak broke out. The man beside him spun around, to see the ragged staring wretch who accompanied the barrel organ, holding out a hat which was the only whole piece of clothing he had.

— Wait. . wait a minute. Here.

— Wait! Mr. Yak tried to stay his hand. — Five pesetas, you can't give him that much, five pesetas?

The cringing figure took the bill and scuttled away.

— You don't want to give them that much every time they. .

— I like the music, that's all. Now leave me alone.

— Listen, get hold of yourself now, relax, said Mr. Yak up close to his elbow again. — Maybe I'm your gardeen angel like you say. Maybe I can help you out.

— Out of what.

— You need papers. You need a passport, don't you? Mr. Yak went on in a low tone.

— No.

— Yes you do. You can't move here without them. How would you like to be a Swiss?

— Less than anything I can think of.

— You'd make a good Swiss, I just thought about it.

— A good Swiss? The man snorted behind his hand. He took the Manzanilla as soon as it was put before him, and drank half the glass. — Women cross themselves when they meet me in the street. Dogs in the street bark at me. A good Swiss!

— You wash up and shave and you'll be fine. I just thought about it. I have this passport, see? This Swiss passport, I didn't have time to alter anything on it before I left, I didn't even change the picture on it yet, see? And I just thought about it, that's why I say this, see? This picture looks like you, this Swiss, it's got short hair and a square face like you, all knotted up like around the eyes. See? I'm not kidding you, it's a natural, this Swiss. And you can be him, see? Mr. Yak was talking more rapidly, but in the same low tone of confidence. He had a hand on the man's arm, and followed the half-step the man drew away from him, staring straight ahead. — What do you say? Listen, I know how it is, see? And this way you'll be safe as a nut. Still he had no answer, pressing close so that the man slipped another half-step's space between them, which Mr. Yak filled, speaking in a slightly different tone now, — Maybe I'm like in the same spot you are, see? he said. — Only I'm being a Rumanian. You can make as good a Swiss as I am a Rumanian.

The man took another half-step away to turn and look at him, speaking with something near interest in his voice for the first time. — You've killed someone?

— No, nothing like that. You wouldn't find me doing something that crazy. Mr. Yak filled the space between them, and pulled his throat up from the plexiglas collar. — Anybody can stab somebody. I'm not a bum to do something like that, that crazy. I'm a craftsman, an artist like, see? That's what happened to me, see? he finished, his eyes glittering.

— No.

— No what?

— What happened to you?

— I just told you. There, see? I knew you'd get interested. I'm not a bum either.

— I didn't say you were. What happened?

— I told you. I'm an artist like, a craftsman, see?. . and they got jealous of my work.

— Who did?

— Well never mind, never mind that right now. And Mr. Yak snorted, and began drumming his fingers on the bar, looking down himself. After a few moments' silence, during which his companion finished his wine, Mr. Yak took a deep breath and spoke again, briskly as though opening a new subject. — Just never mind who right now, he said.

Another half-step, and they'd passed the staring sardines.

— What do you say? Mr. Yak demanded of this companion in whom he'd at last roused interest; but it was gone again, he'd pushed his glass forth and stared vacantly resting an elbow on the bar, and his rough chin in his hand. Mr. Yak looked about to climb up his shoulder. — What do you say, now? This is no joke, I can fix you up with this passport. This is what you want to do, see? Like putting off the old man, you know what I mean, see?. . like it says in the Bible, that's it, see?. . that's what you want to do, put on the new man, like it says in the Bible. What do you say?. . All right, listen. Shall I just leave you here then?. .

— Yes.

— Listen, I can tell when a man's not a bum, see? Like you, see? Listen, you can have this Swiss passport. You can have it. I'll give it to you, see? Then you're as safe as a nut. This guy's name, this Swiss, I forgot his name. That's all right. It's something Stephan. Stêphan something. See? All right, I'll call you Stephan, all right? That will help you get use to it, see? See, Stephan? See?. . you're getting used to it already, see? See Stephan? Then after a while you think of yourself as Stephan like I think of myself as Yak, as Mr. Yak, see? In case they pull any fast ones on you, see? See Stephan?

They had gone about three full steps, and almost reached the wall by this time.

— See, Stephan?

And Stephan finally turned to him. — Haven't you got anything else to do?

— I'm here on business, Mr. Yak answered immediately, and took quick advantage of what he interpreted as a renewal of his companion's interest. — Listen, do you. . listen Stephan, I'll call you that so you'll get used to it, just out of curiosity have you ever heard of mummies?

— I feel like one, said Stephan with his back against the wall.

— Good! Listen. . you know what they are then? You know about them? Listen, how much do you know about them. I knew you weren't a bum. Stephan.

— What do you want to know about them?

— Good! Listen, have another glass of wine. Stephan. Listen, do you. . Listen. . Mr. Yak brought his voice down with difficulty. — Suppose, now listen, just suppose somebody wanted to make one, see? A real craftsmanshiplike job, to make one up. Now I know something about it, see, you wouldn't want to use a new. . you wouldn't use somebody who just died a little while ago. . Mr. Yak thrust his face into the one before him to confide, — A doctor pulled that one in Vienna and it began to smell, see?

— How old do you want it to be?

— Real old, so it looks real old.

— What Dynasty? Stephan asked grudgingly.

— What what? Oh. . now wait. Wait a minute, it was, wait. . Mr. Yak pressed at his mustache with the length of a forefinger, looking down. When he saw his foot on the floor, he started to tap it. — Wait. The Fourth. The Fourth? he repeated, looking up.

— That's quite early.

— Yes, it's real old.

Stephan had lit another harsh yellow cigarette, and the smoke he exhaled separated them a little. He let the smoke settle, and then said, — If I tell you, will you go away?

— Yes, I have to… I have some business here I want to take care of pretty soon, Mr. Yak said impatiently. — Go on.

— Well, I should think. .

— Stephan.

— What?

— No, no, go on. I just called you that so you'll get used to it.

Go on, Mr. Yak said bridling both hands before his companion. — Stephan.

— If it's that early. . you'll go away if I tell you?

— Yes, yes, go on. Go on, Stephan. Mr. Yak stepped back and spat on the floor, then brought his glittering eyes up in enthusiasm, though the voice he heard was level, even forced, the words spoken rapidly, as vacantly strung together as a recitation.

— The body is extended, make an incision in the left flank and take the internal organs out, except the heart. Fill the vacant cavity with linen and resin, saturate the outer wrappings with resin and mold them to the shape of the body, then emphasize the details with paint on the outside.

— That's all?

— That's all.

— But what about wrapping it up, all those linen bandages around it?