Cosmos by Witold Gombrowicz

Author:Witold Gombrowicz
Language: eng
Format: azw3, pdf, epub
Tags: Mystery, Classics, Philosophy
ISBN: 9780802195265
Publisher: Grove Press
Published: 1965-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

chapter 7

Everything was happening at a distance. It was not the other house that had moved away from us, it was we who had moved away from it . . . and this new house, in nightmarish and forlorn deathlike silence, indifferent to our assailing noises, had no existence of its own, it existed only in the sense that it was not the other . . . I realized that as soon as I got off the cart.

“It’s totally deserted here, not a living soul, the entire housie all to ourselves, make the most of life, mainly eating and eating, Hey brother falcons, give me vigor and brawn,* what did I tell you, this little landscape is just like such a falcon, you’ll see later, first a little bite to eat, yum, yum, yum, march, march, allons enfants de la patrie!”

“Leon, teaspoons from the bag, Lena, napkins, please, welcome, make yourselves at home, everybody have a seat, wherever it’s comfortable, you, Reverend Father, here, please.” To which they replied: tout de suite! Yes Madame, Mrs. major-general! “Well, sit down! Two more chairs. What a banquet! Please, you, Mrs. Lulu, sit here . . . Give me those napkins!”

They took their seats around the big table in the hall, several doors opened into the adjoining rooms, there was a staircase that led to the upper floors. The doors were open, revealing rooms that were totally bare except for a few beds and chairs, lots of chairs. The table was laden with food, spirits were high—more wine anyone?—but the gaiety was of the kind that is created at parties when everyone is jolly just to avoid spoiling the mood for the others, while in fact, everyone is slightly absent, like at a railway station, like waiting for a train—and this absence was connecting with the destitution of this house found by chance, bare, without curtains, wardrobes, bed sheets, drawings, or shelves, with only windows, beds, and chairs. In this emptiness not only words but also persons reverberated loudly. Roly-Poly and Leon in particular were as if inflated in a vacuum and boomed with their persons, while their booming was accompanied by the hubbub of their guests eating heartily, pierced through by the Lulus’ giggles, and Fuks, already quite drunk, was acting like an ass, I knew he drank to drown Drozdowski and their mutual wretchedness, his alienation being similar to mine with my parents . . . he, the luckless, the dupe, the irritating civil servant, forced one to shut one’s eyes or to look away. Roly-Poly, the magnificent dispenser of salads and sausages, entertaining, entreating, inviting, please, ladies and gentlemen, try this, there’s plenty, we won’t starve, I guarantee you, and so on, and so on—busily making sure everything was tip-top, with style, well, well, an eccentric sort of expedition, fun and games, no one will be able to say they haven’t had enough to eat or drink. And also Leon’s doubling and tripling himself, the Amphitrion, the commander-in-chief, the initiator,

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