Jean-Christophe in Paris: The Market-Place, Antoinette, the House. Romain Rolland
the group, and said in German:
"Herr Diener is out."
"Out? For long?"
"I think so. He has just gone."
Christophe thought for a moment; then he said:
"Very well. I will wait."
The clerk was taken aback, and hastened to add:
"But he won't be back before two or three."
"Oh! That's nothing," replied Christophe calmly. "I haven't anything to do in Paris. I can wait all day if need be."
The young man looked at him in amazement, and thought he was joking. But Christophe had forgotten him already. He sat down quietly in a corner, with his back turned towards the street: and it looked as though he intended to stay there.
The clerk went back to the end of the shop and whispered to his colleagues: they were most comically distressed, and cast about for some means of getting rid of the insistent Christophe.
After a few uneasy moments, the door of the office was opened and Herr Diener appeared. He had a large red face, marked with a purple scar down his cheek and chin, a fair mustache, smooth hair, parted on one side, a gold-rimmed eyeglass, gold studs in his shirt-front, and rings on his fat fingers. He had his hat and an umbrella in his hands. He came up to Christophe in a nonchalant manner. Christophe, who was dreaming as he sat, started with surprise. He seized Diener's hands, and shouted with a noisy heartiness that made the assistants titter and Diener blush. That majestic personage had his reasons for not wishing to resume his former relationship with Christophe: and he had made up his mind from the first to keep him at a distance by a haughty manner. But he had no sooner come face to face with Christophe than he felt like a little boy again in his presence: he was furious and ashamed. He muttered hurriedly:
"In my office. … We shall be able to talk better there."
Christophe recognized Diener's habitual prudence.
But when they were in the office and the door was shut, Diener showed no eagerness to offer him a chair. He remained standing, making clumsy explanations:
"Very glad. … I was just going out. … They thought I had gone. … But I must go … I have only a minute … a pressing appointment. … "
Christophe understood that the clerk had lied to him, and that the lie had been arranged by Diener to get rid of him. His blood boiled: but he controlled himself, and said dryly:
"There is no hurry."
Diener drew himself up. He was shocked by such off-handedness.
"What!" he said. "No hurry! In business … " Christophe looked him in the face.
"No."
Diener looked away. He hated Christophe for having so put him to shame. He murmured irritably. Christophe cut him short:
"Come," he said. "You know … "
(He used the "Du," which maddened Diener, who from the first had been vainly trying to set up between Christophe and himself the barrier of the "Sie")
"You know why I am here?"
"Yes," said Diener. "I know."
(He had heard of Christophe's escapade, and the warrant out against him, from his friends.)
"Then," Christophe went on, "you know that I am not here for fun. I have had to fly. I have nothing. I must live."
Diener was waiting for that, for the request. He took it with a mixture of satisfaction—(for it made it possible for him to feel his superiority over Christophe)—and embarrassment—(for he dared not make Christophe feel his superiority as much as he would have liked).
"Ah!" he said pompously. "It is very tiresome, very tiresome. Life here is hard. Everything is so dear. We have enormous expenses. And all these assistants … "
Christophe cut him short contemptuously:
"I am not asking you for money."
Diener was abashed. Christophe went on:
"Is your business doing well? Have you many customers?"
"Yes. Yes. Not bad, thank God! … " said Diener cautiously. (He was on his guard.)
Christophe darted a look of fury at him, and went on:
"You know many people in the German colony?"
"Yes."
"Very well: speak for me. They must be musical. They have children. I will give them lessons."
Diener was embarrassed at that.
"What is it?" asked Christophe. "Do you think I'm not competent to do the work?"
He was asking a service as though it were he who was rendering it. Diener, who would not have done a thing for Christophe except for the sake of putting him under an obligation, was resolved not to stir a finger for him.
"It isn't that. You're a thousand times too good for it. Only … "
"What, then?"
"Well, you see, it's very difficult—very difficult—on account of your position."
"My position?"
"Yes. … You see, that affair, the warrant. … If that were to be known. …
It is difficult for me. It might do me harm."
He stopped as he saw Christophe's face go hot with anger: and he added quickly:
"Not on my own account. … I'm not afraid. … Ah! If I were alone! … But my uncle … you know, the business is his. I can do nothing without him. … "
He grew more and more alarmed at Christophe's expression, and at the thought of the gathering explosion he said hurriedly—(he was not a bad fellow at bottom: avarice and vanity were struggling in him: he would have liked to help Christophe, at a price):
"Can I lend you fifty francs?"
Christophe went crimson. He went up to Diener, who stepped back hurriedly to the door and opened it, and held himself in readiness to call for help, if necessary. But Christophe only thrust his face near his and bawled:
"You swine!"
And he flung him aside and walked out through the little throng of assistants. At the door he spat in disgust.
* * * * *
He strode along down the street. He was blind with fury. The rain sobered him. Where was he going? He did not know. He did not know a soul. He stopped to think outside a book-shop, and he stared stupidly at the rows of books. He was struck by the name of a publisher on the cover of one of them. He wondered why. Then he remembered that it was the name of the house in which Sylvain Kohn was employed. He made a note of the address. … But what was the good? He would not go. … Why should he not go? … If that scoundrel Diener, who had been his friend, had given him such a welcome, what had he to expect from a rascal whom he had handled roughly, who had good cause to hate him? Vain humiliations! His blood boiled at the thought. But his native pessimism, derived perhaps from his Christian education, urged him on to probe to the depths of human baseness.
"I have no right to stand on ceremony. I must try everything before I give in."
And an inward voice added:
"And I shall not give in."
He made sure of the address, and went to hunt up Kohn He made up his mind to hit him in the eye at the first show of impertinence.
The publishing house was in the neighborhood of the Madeleine. Christophe went up to a room on the second floor, and asked for Sylvain Kohn. A man in livery told him that "Kohn was not known." Christophe was taken aback, and thought his pronunciation must be at fault, and he repeated his question: but the man listened attentively, and repeated