Doctor Fisher of Geneva

5

A week or two later we got married at the Mairie with a witness whom I brought from the office. There had been no communication from Doctor Fischer, although we had sent him an announcement of the date. We felt very happy, all the more happy because we would be alone - except, of course, for the witness. We made love half an hour before we went to the Mairie. ‘No cake,’ Anna-Luise said, ‘no bridesmaids, no priest, no family - it’s perfect. This way it’s solemn - one feels really married. The other way is like a party.’

‘One of Doctor Fischer’s parties?’

‘Almost as bad.’

There was someone standing at the back of the room in the Mairie whom I didn’t know. I had looked nervously over my shoulder, because I half expected the arrival of Doctor Fischer, and saw a very tall lean man with hollow cheeks and a twitch in his left eyelid which made think for a moment that he was winking at me, but, as he gave me a blank glare when I winked back, I assumed he was an official, attached to the mayor. Two chairs had been placed for us in front of the table, and the witness, called Monsieur Excoffier, hovered nervously behind us. Anna-Luise whispered something I didn’t catch.

‘What did you say?’

‘He’s one of the Toads.’

‘Monsieur Excoffier!’ I exclaimed.

‘No, no, the man at the back.’ Then the ceremony began, and I felt nervous all through the affair, because of the man behind us. I remembered the place in the Anglican service where the clergyman asks if there is anyone who knows just cause or impediment why these two persons should not be joined in Holy Matrimony you are to declare it, and I couldn’t help wondering whether a Toad mightn’t have been sent for that very purpose by Doctor Fischer. However, the question was never asked, nothing happened, everything went smoothly, and the mayor - I suppose it was the mayor - shook our hands and wished us happiness and then disappeared quickly through a door behind the table. ‘Now for a drink,’ I said to Monsieur Excoffier - it was the least we could do in return for his mute services - ‘a bottle of champagne at the Trois Couronnes.’

But the thin man still stood there winking at us from the back of the room..’ Is there another way out?’ I asked the clerk of the court - if that is what he was - and I indicated the door behind the table, but no, he said no. It was quite impossible for us to go that way - that wasn’t for the public, so there was nothing we could do but face the Toad. When we reached the door the stranger stopped me. ‘Monsieur Jones, my name is Monsieur Belmont. I have brought something for you from Doctor Fischer.’ He held out an envelope.

‘Don’t take it,’ Anna-Luise said. We both in our ignorance thought it might be a writ.

‘Madame Jones, he has sent his best wishes for your happiness. ‘

‘You are a tax adviser, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘What are his best wishes worth? Do I have to declare them to the fisc?’

I had opened the envelope. There was only a printed card inside. ‘Doctor Fischer requests the pleasure of the company of…’ (he had filled in the name Jones without so much as a Mister) ‘at a reunion of his friends and an informal dinner on…’ (he had written in ‘10 November ‘) ‘at 8.30 p.m. RSVP.’

‘It’s an invitation?’ Anna-Luise asked. ‘Yes.’

‘You mustn’t go.’

‘He will be very disappointed,’ Monsieur Belmont said. ‘He particularly hopes that Monsieur Jones will come and join us all. Madame Montgomery will be there and of course Monsieur Kips and we hope that the Divisionnaire… ‘

‘A gathering of the Toads,’ Anna-Luise said.

‘Toads? Toads? I do not know the word. Please, he wishes very much to introduce your husband to all his friends. ‘

‘But I see from the card that my wife is not invited. ‘

‘None of our wives are invited. No ladies. It has become a rule for our little gatherings. I do not know why. There was once… but Madame Montgomery is the only exception now. You might say that in herself she is the representative of her sex.’ He added a piece of unfortunate slang, ‘She’s a good sort.’

‘I will send a reply this evening,’ I said.

‘You will miss a great deal, I assure you, if you do not come. Doctor Fischer’s parties are always very entertaining. He has a great sense of humour, and he is so generous. We have much fun.’

We drank our bottle of champagne with Monsieur Excoffier at the Trois Couronnes and then we went home. The champagne was excellent, but the sparkle had gone out of the day. Doctor Fischer had introduced a conflict between us, for I began to argue that after all I had nothing really against Doctor Fischer. He could easily have opposed our marriage or at least expressed disapproval. By sending me an invitation to one of his parties he had in a sense given me a wedding present which it would be churlish to refuse.

‘He wants you to join the Toads.’

‘But I’ve got nothing against the Toads. Are they really as bad as you say? I’ve seen three of them. I admit I didn’t much care for Mrs Montgomery.’

‘They weren’t always Toads, I suppose. He’s corrupted all of them.’

‘A man can only be corrupted if he’s corruptible.’

‘And how do you know you aren’t?’

‘I don’t. Perhaps it’s a good thing to find out.’

‘So you’ll let him take you into a high place and show you all the kingdoms of the world.’

‘I’m not Christ, and he’s not Satan, and I thought we’d agreed he was God Almighty, although I suppose to the damned God Almighty looks very like Satan.’

‘Oh, all right,’ she said, ‘go and be damned.’

The quarrel was like a dying wood fire: sometimes it seemed to dwindle out, but then a gathering of sparks would light a splinter of charred wood and flare for a moment into a flame. The dispute only ended when she wept against the pillow and I surrendered. ‘You’re right,’ I said, ‘I don’t owe him anything. A piece of pasteboard. I won’t go. I promise I won’t go.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘you are right. I’m wrong. I know you aren’t a Toad, but you won’t know you aren’t unless you go to that damned party. Please go, I’m not angry any more, I promise. I want you to go.’ She added, ‘After all, he is my father. Perhaps he’s not all that bad. Perhaps he’ll spare you. He didn’t spare my mother.’

We were tired out by the dispute. She fell asleep in my arms without making love and presently I slept too.

Next morning I sent my formal reply to the invitation: ‘Mr A. Jones has pleasure in accepting Dr Fischer’s kind invitation…’ I couldn’t help saying to myself: What a fuss about nothing, but I was wrong, quite wrong.