Roberto Arlt - The Seven Madmen

“You’re right … but why did you give me the money then?”

“That’s a different kettle of fish.”

“But I’d like to know.”

“OK, be seeing you.”

And before Erdosain could even reply, the other man had turned off down a leafy street. He was walking quickly. Erdosain stared after him for a moment, then started in pursuit. He caught him by the next corner. Haffner whirled round angrily, and shouted at him:

“D’you mind telling me exactly what you want from me?”

“What I want? … I want to tell you this: that I haven’t the faintest intention of thanking you for the money you’ve given me. D’you want your cheque back? Here it is.”

As he spoke, Erdosain held out the cheque, but the Thug just sneered at him:

“Don’t be so ridiculous. Go and pay your debt.”

The roadside walls wavered in front of Erdosain’s eyes. He was suffering so visibly that he turned a bright yellow. He leaned against a lamp-post, thinking he was about to vomit. Haffner came to a halt a few yards ahead and asked him sarcastically: “Getting over the dizzy spell?”

“Yes … a bit …”

“You’re not well … you should see a doctor …”

They walked on a few yards in silence. The lights were shining too brightly for Erdosain, so they crossed to the other side of the street which was in shadow. Eventually they reached the train station. Haffner paced up and down the platform. All of a sudden he turned to Erdosain:

“Have you ever been tempted to behave as cruelly as you could towards someone?”

“Yes, sometimes …”

“It’s strange … I was just remembering the time when I was determined to turn a blind girl into a prostitute …”

“Is she still around?”

“Yes, she’s the daughter of a corset-maker. She’s only seventeen. I don’t know why, but she brings out the most savage fantasies in me.”

“Does she still work for you?”

“Yes, and now she’s pregnant. Can you imagine? Blind and pregnant. I’ll take you to see her one of these days. You can meet her. She’s an interesting sight, I can tell you. Can you imagine? Blind and pregnant. And quite crazy, always sticking needles in her hands … plus she’s as greedy as a pig. You’ll be fascinated.”

“And you think …”

“Yes, when the Astrologer sets up his brothel, she’ll be the first one I’ll put in. We’ll keep her a secret: she can be the surprise package we offer.”

“You’re a lot weirder than her, d’you know that?”

“Eh?”

“Because you’re so hard to grasp. While you were talking about the blind girl, I was thinking of a story the Astrologer told me about you. That once you had met an honest woman, and by chance she ended up in your house, but you respected her. More than that — no, let me say it — this woman loved you, and she was a virgin, but you didn’t touch her.”

“That’s beside the point. A little self-control, that’s all.”

“What about the story of the necklace?”

From the Astrologer, Erdosain knew that the Thug had once asked a dancer for a token of her affection for him; and that in the midst of a group of women, she had taken off a magnificent necklace given her by her lover, an old textile importer. The scene was all the odder because the lover was also present. Haffner took the necklace and then to everyone’s astonishment weighed it in his hand, examined the stones, then gave it back with a wry smile.

“Well, that’s simple enough,” Haffner replied. “I was a bit drunk. But not enough not to realise that what I was doing would win me undying prestige among all that cabaret riffraff, especially the women, who are full of romantic notions. And the strangest thing of all was that half an hour later the old guy who had given Renee the necklace came up to me to humbly thank me for not accepting it. Can you imagine? He had seen the whole thing from a nearby table, where he sat quaking in his boots — but he’d done nothing because he was afraid of causing a scandal. What he was so worried about was what might happen to his necklace … how low can you get? Anyway, here’s the train to La Plata. See you soon … oh, yes, and make sure you don’t miss the meeting at the Astrologer’s next Wednesday. You’ll meet far more interesting people than me there.”

Deep in thought, Erdosain crossed over to the platform for Buenos Aires. No doubt about it, Haffner was a monster.

He reached home at eight that night.

“There was a light on in the dining-room … but let me explain,” Erdosain told me: “my wife and I were in such dire straits that what we called the dining-room was simply a room almost empty of furniture. The other one was our bedroom. You might ask why if we were so poor we rented a house, but it was something my wife insisted on — she remembered happier days and could not get used to the idea of not ‘setting up home’.

“The only piece of furniture in the dining-room was a pine table. Across one corner of the room was a wire we used to hang our clothes from, in another stood a trunk with tin clasps that gave the impression we led a nomadic life that would one day end with the final journey. Later on, I have often thought of that ‘sense of a journey’ the cheap trunk in the corner of our room created in the desperate mind of a man who knew himself to be at the gates of prison.

“As I was saying, there was a light on. As soon as I opened the door, I froze. My wife was waiting for me, dressed to go out. She was sitting at the table, and wore a black tulle hat with a veil down over her rosy cheeks. A suitcase lay to the right of her feet, and, on the far side of the table, a man got up as I came in, or rather, as I stood paralysed with shock in the doorway.

“For a second, none of us moved … The Captain standing there, one hand on the table and the other on the pommel of his sword, my wife’s eyes lowered to the floor, and me gaping at the two of them, still grasping the edge of the door. That second was enough for me never to forget the man. He was tall, and his firm, athletic build showed through his uniform. As his eyes left my wife, they took on a curious hardness. I am not exaggerating when I say he stared at me insolently, as if I were of a lower rank. I stared back at him. His sturdy physique contrasted with his small oval face, his delicate nose, and austere, thin lips. On his chest he wore the badge of an airforce pilot.

“My first words were:

“‘What’s going on here?’

“‘This gentleman …’ but then Elsa blushed and corrected herself. ‘Remo,’ she said, calling me by my first name, ‘Remo, I can’t live with you any more.’”

Erdosain did not even have time to react before the Captain went on:

“Your wife, whom I met some time ago …”

“And where exactly did you meet her?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Elsa put in.

“That’s right,” the Captain protested. “As you must know, there are certain things one doesn’t ask.”

Erdosain flushed.

“You may be right … I’m sorry …”

“And since you don’t earn enough to keep her …”

Erdosain squeezed the revolver butt in his trouser pocket and stared at the Captain. Then the thought that he had nothing to fear made him smile unintentionally: he could easily kill him if he wanted to.

“I don’t see anything funny in what I’m saying.”

“No, it was just something silly that crossed my mind … so she told you that as well?”

“Yes, and she also said you were a frustrated genius …”

“We talked about your inventions …”

“Yes, your scheme for making metal flowers …”

“Why are you leaving then?”

“I’m tired, Remo.”