Heaven Has No Favorites: A Novel by Erich Maria Remarque; Translated by Richard Winston and Clara Winston Read Free Book Online Page A

Dalai Lama said.
    The nurse switched on the light. Lillian stood beside the screenand waited. “You’ve had two bouts of pleurisy, haven’t you?” the Dalai Lama asked. “One through not being careful?”
    Lillian did not answer at once. Why had he asked? It was right there in the case history. Or had the Crocodile complained about her, and was he warming over this old business in order to give her a new lecture? “Is that right, Miss Dunkerque?” the doctor persisted.
    “Yes.”
    “You were lucky. Almost no adhesions. But what’s this—?”
    The Dalai Lama looked up. “You can go into the next room. Get yourself ready for refilling the pneumo, please.”
    Lillian followed the nurse. “What is it?” she asked. “Fluid?”
    The nurse shook her head. “Perhaps the temperature variations—”
    “But that has nothing to do with my lungs! It’s only emotional. Miss Somerville’s departure. The föhn. I am negative! You know I’m not positive! Or am I?”
    “No, no. Come, lie down. You want to be ready when the doctor comes.”
    The nurse moved the machine closer. It’s no use, Lillian thought. For weeks I’ve done everything they wanted, and instead of getting better, it’s certainly gotten worse. Nothing to do with yesterday. After all, I don’t have any fever today; more likely I’d have fever if I’d just gone to bed on time last night. You never know. What is he going to do with me now? Is he going to poke around in me and puncture me, or only fill me up like a tired balloon?
    The doctor came in. “I have no fever,” Lillian said quickly. “It’s just a little emotional upset. I haven’t had any fever for a week, and even then I only had it when I was upset. That isn’t organic.…”
    The Dalai Lama sat down beside her and felt for a point for the needle. “You’d better stay in for the next few days.”
    “I can’t just stay in bed all the time. That’s what gives me fever. It drives me crazy.”
    “You need only remain in your room. For today, though, bed rest. Iodine, nurse, right here.”
    Lillian studied the brown spot of iodine while she was changing her clothes in her room. Then she drew out the vodka from under her lingerie and poured a glass. She listened toward the corridor. The nurse would be coming with her supper any minute, and she did not want to be caught drinking.
    I’m not too thin, she thought, posting herself in front of the mirror. I’ve gained half a pound. A great achievement. She drank ironically to her mirror image, and hid the bottle again. She heard the cart with her supper outside. She reached for a dress.
    “Are you getting dressed?” the nurse asked. “You’re not allowed out, you know.”
    “I’m dressing because it makes me feel better.”
    The nurse shook her head. “Why don’t you get into bed? I’d love to have my meals served in bed once in a while!”
    “Lie down in the snow and catch pneumonia,” Lillian said. “Then you could take to your bed and let others serve you.”
    “Not me. All I’d do would be to catch a cold. Here’s a package for you. It looks like flowers.”
    Boris, Lillian thought. He often sent her flowers after she had been pumped up.
    “Aren’t you going to open it?” the nurse asked curiously.
    “Later.”
    Lillian dabbled at her food for a while, then had it taken away. The nurse made her bed. “Don’t you want to turn your radio on?” she asked.
    “If you want to hear it, turn it on.”
    The nurse experimented with the knobs. She got Zurich with a talk on Conrad Ferdinand Meyer, and Lausanne with news. Sheturned the dial farther, and suddenly she had Paris. Someone was playing a Debussy piano piece. Lillian went to the window and waited for the nurse to finish and leave the room. She stared out into the evening mist, and listened to the music from Paris, and it was unendurable.
    “Do you know Paris?” the nurse asked.
    “Yes.”
    “I’ve never seen it. It must be wonderful.”
    “When I was there,