Rigadoon by Louis-ferdinand & Manheim Celine Page B

. . well, we've seen what we came to see . . . our two soldiers motion us to give back our messkits and empty bottle . . . the younger one takes them back to the shack . . . up ahead they've put the "fish train" together . . . they push our car up to it, they hook us on . . . workmen and fishermen . . . the young soldier comes back, still got his mouth full, and climbs in with us . . . they haven't talked to us very much, neither one . . . haven't said a thing . . . at last the Berlin train is ready . . . nonstop to Berlin . . . except we've got to pick up our colleague in Rostock . . . him and his patients . . . I see it's women loading the train . . . baskets and more baskets . . . same merchandise as Les Sables, Fecamp, or Malmö . . . it's the job that makes the man, a komissar or a deputy without blah-blah, a fishwife without baskets, doesn't exist any more . . . fly-by-nights, ready for anything . . . one thing, those women don't try to talk to us, to find out who we are . . . I guess they're suspicious of people like us, with special guards! choo! choo! the engine! this train has no armored flatcars . . . no gunners . . . our two guards, that's all . . . we're moving . . . choo! choo! . . . oh, we don't go far . . . Rostock! . . . the train stops . . . there's Proseïdon, waiting for us . . . not alone, far from it, he's got his patients with him . . . I ask him . . . sure! it's them all right! . . . he's managed to round them up, not a one missing . . . and he's brought our stuff from the Hotel Phoenix . . . not heavy, a small bag . . . two shirts, towels, soap . . . now for Moorsburg! seventy miles! . . . we won't be seeing the Oberarzt . . . the ardent Nietzschean . . . again! . . . I never did see him, only heard him . . . and not friendly, through the door . . . never mind, I'll get over it! . . . it's not the same as coming . . . everybody jammed together . . . Proseïdon is in the next compartment with his lepers . . . he can't leave them . . . only half a door between us . . . I can see them all, they're not repulsive, no age, they're beyond age, so to speak . . . pretty pimply, most of them wrapped in big dressings . . . especially the men, it looks like . . . we're moving . . . this train, it's a fact, doesn't stop anywhere . . . but it doesn't go fast . . . the lepers keep swabbing their noses and eyes . . . with their raggedy rags . . . not hard to diagnose . . . blood coming out of their eyes and noses . . . they couldn't have been very good gravediggers . . . might as well ship them somewhere else . . . a leper hospital? . . . where? . . . still rolling along . . . the planes aren't bothering with us . . . they're up there though, coming and going, diving, wheeling . . . I guess they know this fish train and its schedule, and know it isn't armed . . . friendly little arrangement, I suppose, to let the fish through . . . we'd never see any fish in Moorsburg . . . the whole planet, same story . . . the bigshots roll each other in clover . . . when the next one comes, the atomic shindig, you'll see, they'll send each other baskets of strawberries, from Finistère to Svarnopol, by rocket. . . I'm joking, but not all that much . . . I forgot to tell you about the snow . . . now it was coming down . . . not deep, but quite a lot . . . you couldn't see the tracks . . . I was forgetting the seagulls too! . . . but, never fear, there they were . . . you can imagine, four carloads of fish! . . . wheeling in the air, gliding, coming down on top of the cars . . . and Proseïdon? . . . not talking . . . he's thinking . . . we're pretty near there . . . two . . . three stations to go . . . here . . . this must be it! . . . I see, I think I see houses . . . the snow is in the way . . . the train slows down . . . so to speak . . . foot by foot . . . choo! choo! sure enough, it's stopping, it's Moorsburg . . . the station! . . .
    "Ferdie! Ferdie!"
    It's Le Vig! . . . Lili answers . . . with a question:
    "Bébert?. .