Arch of Triumph by Erich Maria Remarque Read Free Book Online Page B

Eugénie.
    “Why don’t you ask him yourself, Doctor Veber?”
    Ravic smiled. “You hit the mark, Eugénie. But when there is no longer anything sacred to one, everything again becomes sacred in a more human way. One reveres the spark of life that pulses even in an earthworm and that forces it from time to time up to the light of day. That’s not meant to be a comparison.”
    “You can’t insult me. You have no faith.” Eugénie energetically smoothed her white coat over her breast. “Thank God, I have my faith!”
    Ravic straightened up. “Faith can easily make one fanatical. That’s why all religions have cost so much blood.” He grinned. “Tolerance is the daughter of doubt, Eugénie. That explains why you, with all your faith, are so much more aggressive toward me than I, lost infidel, am toward you.”
    Veber guffawed. “There you are, Eugénie. Don’t answer! You’ll get in even deeper!”
    “My dignity as a woman—”
    “Fine!” Veber interrupted. “Stick to that. That’s always good. I’ve got to leave now. I’ve still some things to do in the office. Come, Ravic. Good morning, Eugénie.”
    “Good morning, Doctor Veber.”
    “Good morning, Nurse Eugénie,” Ravic said.
    “Good morning,” Eugénie replied with an effort and only after Veber had turned around to look at her.
    Veber’s office was crowded with Empire furniture; white and gold and fragile. Photographs of his house and garden hung on the wall above his desk. A modern broad chaise longue stood against the wall. Veber slept on it when he stayed overnight. The private hospital belonged to him.
    “What would you like to drink, Ravic? Cognac or Dubonnet?”
    “Coffee, if there is any left.”
    “Of course.” Veber placed the coffeepot on the desk and put the plug in. Then he turned to Ravic. “Can you substitute for me in the Osiris this afternoon?”
    “Of course.”
    “You don’t mind?”
    “Not in the least. I’ve no other plans.”
    “Fine. Then I won’t have to drive in again just to go there. I can work in my garden. I’d have asked Fauchon but he is on his vacation.”
    “Nonsense,” Ravic said. “I’ve done it often enough.”
    “That’s right. Nevertheless—”
    “Nevertheless no longer exists nowadays. Not for me.”
    “Yes. It’s idiotic enough that you are not permitted to work here officially and have to hide out as a ghost surgeon.”
    “But Veber! That’s an old story now. It is happening to all physicians who fled from Germany.”
    “Just the same! It’s ridiculous! You perform Durant’s most difficult operations and he makes a name for himself.”
    “Better than if he did them himself.”
    Veber laughed. “I’m a fine one to talk. You do mine too. But after all, I am a gynecologist and not a specialist in surgery.”
    The coffeepot began to hum. Veber turned it off. He took cups out of a closet and poured the coffee. “One thing I really don’t understand, Ravic,” he said. “Why do you go on living in that depressing hole, the International? Why don’t you rent one of those nice new apartments in the neighborhood of the Bois? You could buy some furniture anywhere cheap. Then at least you’d know what’s your own!”
    “Yes,” Ravic said. “Then I would know what was my own!”
    “See! Why don’t you do it?”
    Ravic took a gulp of his coffee. It was bitter and very strong.“Veber,” he said, “you are a magnificent example of the convenient thinking of our time. In one breath you are sorry because I work illegally here—and at the same time you ask me why I don’t rent a nice apartment—”
    “What’s one got to do with the other?”
    Ravic smiled patiently. “If I take an apartment I must be registered with the police. I would need a passport and a visa for that.”
    “That’s right. I hadn’t thought of that. And in hotels you don’t need any?”
    “There too. But, thank God, there are a few hotels in Paris that don’t take registration too seriously.”