The Centurions by Jean Larteguy

Author:Jean Larteguy
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

• • •

“You went too far, Philippe,” Goldschmidt gently observed, forcing the captain to sit down beside him. “It was you alone who allowed Weihl to become the heir to your father and to his thought. Do you know he’s got the makings of a great writer? He’s an exhibitionist who hates to reveal himself in public though at the same time he can’t resist the temptation to do so . . .”

“A mental strip-tease, but he takes good care not to give the reason for his deportation!”

“He will one day . . . because he won’t be able to stop himself. Exhibitionists are queer people, and we Jews are all exhibitionists.”

“Even the Jews of Israel?” Guitte inquired.

“No, they seem to have escaped the curse. But at the same time they’re going to lose their genius, which is a compound of subtlety, restlessness and also fear. In every Jew’s subconscious there’s a deeply rooted terror of the pogrom. The Israeli doesn’t have this. He tills a land which belongs to him and has a rifle slung on his shoulder. For centuries the uprooted Jew has inevitably hated all forms of nationalism. Nations are shadowy families from which he feels himself excluded. So he invented Communism, where the notion of class replaced that of nation. But this latest invention to have sprouted from his genius has not solved the problem, at least not for him, for the Jew is essentially outside all social classes just as he happens to be outside every nation. So he lingers on the fringe of Communism and becomes what is known as a Progressivist. The Israelis took the opposite course, but they immediately suffered from nationalist delirium.

“You see, I’m as garrulous as ever, Philippe. All this is just to tell you that I’m a Jew and not an Israeli and that Weihl is like me. That’s one of the reasons I’m so attached to him.”

“I’m an Israeli,” said Guitte. “I’m a nationalist and I’m not under the curse. Won’t you marry me, Philippe! We’ll organize pogroms together and chase Weihl and old Goldschmidt with long knives down every passage in the house!”

“All right,” said Philippe, “I’ve learnt my lesson. I’m extremely fond of you both, but just leave me in peace with my bottle of brandy.”

“When are you coming to dine with us?” Guitte asked. “I’ll cook you a nationalist dish, steak and French fried potatoes. I’ve learnt how to cook in order to seduce you all the more easily.”

“You know what your father used to say,” Goldschmidt went on. “‘History will drive us ineluctably towards Communism. Instead of fighting it, we ought to humanize it so as to make it tolerable for the West.’”

“I know what Communism is like and I can tell you now that it isn’t tolerable and can never be humanized.”

Goldschmidt had some difficulty in getting up from his chair. He had asthma and panted at every step he took. One day his heart would give out and that would be the last of the garrulous, inquisitive, indulgent old man.

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