John Banville - Mefisto

I offered him a phial of Lemures. He snatched it from me, but when he read the label I thought he would weep.

— Not that, he said, that’s no good. That other gear, you know? Like the last time?

He was sweating. The girl began to whimper. He turned and shouted at her to shut up, his voice cracking. Adele had walked on, with her head down.

— I haven’t any, I said, backing away from him.

He came after me, rooting in the pockets of his coat, and brought out a wristwatch and thrust it under my nose.

— I’ll give you this, he said. See, this? It’s gold.

I put a hand in his chest and pushed him away. He stood, crestfallen, watching me retreat. He gave a sort of sob and stamped his foot.

— Christ, pal …

Adele was at the door. As I came up the steps she went inside and shut it quietly in my face.

FELIX WAYLAID ME one evening in the hall. There was something he wanted to say to me, it was time we had a talk. A door opened above us somewhere, he took my arm and drew me hastily behind him down a gloomy passageway beside the stairs. We stepped out into a yard. There were dustbins, and a dank smell. He peered over his shoulder cautiously, then winked at me, digging his tremulous claws into my arm.

— Have to be careful, he said. He’s always on the watch.

— Who?

He laughed.

— Who? Who do you think?

I followed him down the narrow garden. Everything was overgrown with bindweed and briars. Tall skeletons of last year’s thistles stuck up starkly. The backs of houses rose all around us. The sky was still light. A new moon was visible above the chimney-pots. Felix put his hands in his pockets and stopped to survey the scene.

— There is order in everything, he said. Isn’t it wonderful? Look at this place. It seems a wilderness, but underneath it all there’s a garden.

He looked at me sidelong, smiling.

— What do you say?

I said:

— I don’t know.

He took my arm again.

— Oh but you do, you do know, you of all people.

We walked along a weed-grown path, and came upon a dark pool overhung by a stunted, bare tree. Dim forms moved in the depths of the water. We stopped, and leaned to look, and slowly the fish floated up, like something in a dream, lifting weak, hopeful mouths, their pallid fins feebly beating the moss-brown water. Felix’s face grinned up at me, with a fish-mouth for an eye.

— What are numbers, after all? he said. Music, that kind of thing, it’s all sums, isn’t it?

The bronze reflection of a cloud sailed on to the surface of the water, the arabian moon was there too, a horned sliver, glimmering. The fish sank again slowly, into the deeps.

— Come on, Felix said, let’s go for a stroll. I have to see a man about a horse.

Dusk was settling in the streets, the lamps were coming on. There was a bitter wind, and patches of damp on the pavements. We walked by the railings of the square, under the dark trees. Felix pointed to the gutter.

— Ever wonder, he said, who it is removes squashed cats from the road? There was one run over there this morning, now it’s gone.

He halted, cupping a hand to his ear. Music sounded faintly in the distance, a tinny blare.

— Hark! he said. The herald angels.

The office workers were going home, flitting like shadows through the brumous twilight, hurrying away to their unimaginable lives. We crossed the road, past great pillared arches and granite façades, and turned in the direction of the river. Two figures in long overcoats stood under a lamp-post, examining a bottle in a brown paper bag. Water was bubbling out of a crack in the paving where a pipe had burst. For an instant suddenly I saw into the dark heart of things, and a surge of mad glee rose in my gullet like waterbrash.

— The professor, now, Felix was saying. A hopeless case, I tell you, I’ve given him up for lost. Blind chance, he says, blind chance, that’s all. As if chance was blind. We know better, don’t we, Castor?

We passed under a railway bridge. An alleyway exhaled the sour stink of the river. The tide was high. We picked our way along the quay, over the slimed cobbles, and stopped by the side of a rusted cargo ship. The curved prow jutted above us, keen as an axe-blade. Felix peered up into the darkness and whistled softly. Running clouds were spilling past the rail up there like luminous smoke. He whistled again, and this time there was a faint answering note. A head appeared, and a hand waving, and presently two figures came down the gangway, hurrying silently on tiptoe. Felix started towards them, but paused and turned back to me.

— By the way, he said, the old boy wants you to work with him, did I mention it?

The sailors were hardy little men with bandy arms and legs. One wore a leather cap with a peak. His name was Brand. He had a big pink face, and eyes set so close together they were almost one. He said nothing, only grinned, showing a mouthful of broken teeth. His companion was called Frisch. He had a high forehead and a prominent nose and hardly any chin.

— Dear friends …! said Felix.

Frisch made a chopping gesture with the edge of his hand.

— Ruhe! he snarled. You want everyone to fokken hear?

We went to the Star of the Sea, a low, smoky dive with plastic seats, and yellowed prints of sailing ships on the walls. The bar was loud with merrymaking. We sat at a table in a corner, and Felix bought brandy for the sailors and sat and watched them drink, tapping his fingers on the table and smiling. Frisch, who seemed to regard everything with a profound, angry scepticism, buried his seal’s snout in his glass and looked about him grimly at the weeping walls and the prints and the strings of coloured paper decorations. He eyed me too, and said to Felix:

— This is your tester, eh? Your Chemiker ?

Felix laughed blandly.

— Oh no, he said, no. My … partner.

And he winked at me.

— Ja , Frisch said sourly, that is what he looks like.

They began to argue about money, or at least Frisch did, while Felix sat and smiled. Among the crowd at the bar someone fell over, and a cheer went up. Brand was peering about him out of his cyclop’s eye with a kind of happy wonderment, lifting his leather cap and scratching his straw-coloured hair, as if he had never seen such a place before, with such jolly people in it. He drank another drink, and banged his glass on the table top and sang:

Es war eine Ratt’ im Kellernest,

Lebte nur von Fett und Butter,

Hatte sich ein Ränzlein angemäst’t

Als wie der Doktor Luther.

— Good man, Lars, Felix said. Sing up!

Die Köchin hatt’ ihr Gift gestellt,

Da ward’s so eng ihr in der Welt,

Als hätte sie Lieb’ im Leibe.

Then there were more drinks, and Frisch’s rancorous mutterings grew slurred. Brand stood up, and put one foot up on the table and reached a lighted match between his legs and farted, igniting a brief blue spurt of flame. He sat down with a sheepish grin, rolling his shoulders bashfully, and pulled the peak of his cap over his eyes.

— Bravo, old firebrand! Felix said.

— Arschloch , Frisch mumbled, and curled his lip.

Brand grinned again, and ducked his head.

— Drink up! said Felix. Pip pip!

Frisch was growing increasingly angry, glaring about him unsteadily with a murderous eye and talking to himself. Brand began to sing again, but could not remember the words. His mood turned glum. Felix made a sign to me and rose, and after a moment I followed him. He was waiting for me in the street. He took my arm without a word and walked me around the side of the pub. In a moment Frisch came out and stood looking up and down the quay, shouting drunkenly. Then Brand stumbled out, and took a gulp of night air, and immediately vomited on the pavement. Felix chuckled. We retreated down a lane.