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Authors: Michel Houellebecq
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university, and he suggested we meet at Delmas, in Place de la Contrescarpe.
As I walked up the rue Mouffetard, I thought more about what I’d heard from Marie-Françoise’s husband. Was it possible my young colleague knew more than he’d told me? Was he still involved in the movement?
With its leather club chairs, dark floors and red curtains, Delmas was exactly his kind of place. He would never have set foot in the cafe across the street, the Contrescarpe, with its annoying fake bookshelves. He was a man of taste. He ordered a glass of champagne, I got a Leffe, and suddenly, something in me gave way. I was sick of my own subtlety and moderation. I got straight to the point, without even waiting till we had our drinks. ‘The political situation seems very unstable. Tell me honestly, what would you do in my shoes?’
Although he smiled at my candour, he answered just as bluntly: ‘First off, I’d open a new bank account.’
‘A bank account – why?’ It came out almost as a yelp, I must have been even more on edge than I’d thought. The waiter came back with our drinks. Lempereur paused before he answered. ‘It’s not clear that the recent actions of the Socialist Party will go down well with their supporters …’ and all of a sudden I realised that he
knew
, that he was still deep in the movement, maybe even one of its leaders: he knew all about the secret leaks. For all I knew, he was the one who decided to keep them secret.
‘Under the circumstances,’ he went on softly, ‘the National Front may well win the run-off. If they do, their supporters will force them to pull France out of the EU, and abandon the euro. It may turn out to be a very good thing for the economy, but in the short term we’ll see some serious convulsions in the markets. It’s not clear that French banks, even the biggest ones, could hang on. So I’d suggest you open an account with a foreign bank – ideally an English one, like Barclays or HSBC.’
‘That’s it?’
‘That’s not nothing. Do you have a place in the country where you can go to ground?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Even so, I’d urge you to take off, sooner rather than later. Find a little hotel somewhere. Didn’t you say you lived in Chinatown? I doubt we’ll see any looting or rioting near you, but all the same, I’d have a holiday and wait for things to settle down.’
‘I’d feel kind of like a rat abandoning ship.’
‘Rats are intelligent mammals,’ he answered calmly, almost with amusement. ‘They will probably outlive us. Their society, at any rate, is a good deal more stable than ours.’
‘The academic year isn’t over. I still have two weeks of teaching.’
‘The academic year!’ Now he was grinning, almost laughing. ‘It’s true that all sorts of things could happen, and nobody knows just what, but I do doubt we’ll make it to the end of the academic year!’
Now he fell silent and sipped his champagne, and I knew I’d get nothing more out of him. A slightly contemptuous smile played over his lips, which was odd, since I’d have said he was almost starting to be nice to me. I ordered another beer, this time raspberry-flavoured. I had no desire to go home. There was nothing and no one waiting for me there. I wondered whether Lempereur had a partner, or at least a girlfriend. Probably. He was a kind of
éminence grise
, a political leader, in a clandestine movement. Everyone knows there are girls who go for that kind of thing. There are girls who go for Huysmanists, for that matter. I once met a girl – a pretty, attractive girl – who told me she fantasised about Jean-François Copé. It took me several days to get over it. Really, with girls today, all bets are off.
Friday, 20 May
The next day I opened an account at the Barclays bank in the avenue des Gobelins. The funds would be transferred in just one working day, the bank clerk informed me. A few minutes later I had a Visa, very much to my surprise.
I
As I walked up the rue Mouffetard, I thought more about what I’d heard from Marie-Françoise’s husband. Was it possible my young colleague knew more than he’d told me? Was he still involved in the movement?
With its leather club chairs, dark floors and red curtains, Delmas was exactly his kind of place. He would never have set foot in the cafe across the street, the Contrescarpe, with its annoying fake bookshelves. He was a man of taste. He ordered a glass of champagne, I got a Leffe, and suddenly, something in me gave way. I was sick of my own subtlety and moderation. I got straight to the point, without even waiting till we had our drinks. ‘The political situation seems very unstable. Tell me honestly, what would you do in my shoes?’
Although he smiled at my candour, he answered just as bluntly: ‘First off, I’d open a new bank account.’
‘A bank account – why?’ It came out almost as a yelp, I must have been even more on edge than I’d thought. The waiter came back with our drinks. Lempereur paused before he answered. ‘It’s not clear that the recent actions of the Socialist Party will go down well with their supporters …’ and all of a sudden I realised that he
knew
, that he was still deep in the movement, maybe even one of its leaders: he knew all about the secret leaks. For all I knew, he was the one who decided to keep them secret.
‘Under the circumstances,’ he went on softly, ‘the National Front may well win the run-off. If they do, their supporters will force them to pull France out of the EU, and abandon the euro. It may turn out to be a very good thing for the economy, but in the short term we’ll see some serious convulsions in the markets. It’s not clear that French banks, even the biggest ones, could hang on. So I’d suggest you open an account with a foreign bank – ideally an English one, like Barclays or HSBC.’
‘That’s it?’
‘That’s not nothing. Do you have a place in the country where you can go to ground?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Even so, I’d urge you to take off, sooner rather than later. Find a little hotel somewhere. Didn’t you say you lived in Chinatown? I doubt we’ll see any looting or rioting near you, but all the same, I’d have a holiday and wait for things to settle down.’
‘I’d feel kind of like a rat abandoning ship.’
‘Rats are intelligent mammals,’ he answered calmly, almost with amusement. ‘They will probably outlive us. Their society, at any rate, is a good deal more stable than ours.’
‘The academic year isn’t over. I still have two weeks of teaching.’
‘The academic year!’ Now he was grinning, almost laughing. ‘It’s true that all sorts of things could happen, and nobody knows just what, but I do doubt we’ll make it to the end of the academic year!’
Now he fell silent and sipped his champagne, and I knew I’d get nothing more out of him. A slightly contemptuous smile played over his lips, which was odd, since I’d have said he was almost starting to be nice to me. I ordered another beer, this time raspberry-flavoured. I had no desire to go home. There was nothing and no one waiting for me there. I wondered whether Lempereur had a partner, or at least a girlfriend. Probably. He was a kind of
éminence grise
, a political leader, in a clandestine movement. Everyone knows there are girls who go for that kind of thing. There are girls who go for Huysmanists, for that matter. I once met a girl – a pretty, attractive girl – who told me she fantasised about Jean-François Copé. It took me several days to get over it. Really, with girls today, all bets are off.
Friday, 20 May
The next day I opened an account at the Barclays bank in the avenue des Gobelins. The funds would be transferred in just one working day, the bank clerk informed me. A few minutes later I had a Visa, very much to my surprise.
I
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