The Club,
London S.W.i
My dear Balthazar,
Needless to say I have not lassoed a mare galloping by rotten rich. I abhor my occupation. Far too many chaps in London whose cunning outstrips their charm. I play polo when I can and poker when I shouldn't. The money fast runs out. I met our old friend Breda. I promise you, purely by accident. She was busy along the Bayswater Road. At the mention of you she rather choked up. But once she smiled and asked if still I was a Presbyterian. I told her that Arses was king of Persia in 338 B.C. And that news seemed to cheer her up. Nice lass and she wore a pendant which to my carefully trained eye was not paste and that I would estimate cost a pretty piece of change. Do come back to London, at least for a visit. As you well know I am to be not thrilled easily but things are slowly gathering gaiety here and one quite rightly gives the birds in the bed more seed. If they are heartless enough to find this insufficient one imparts the goose capri followed in rapid succession by that of the goose volvo and belair. I have many long tales to tell. Write soon to say you're coming. I am glad to hear things cheer somewhat more for you. Remember, blessed are they who are willing victims of the whip for they will scream to high heaven.
Mortally yours,
with much eye ball movement,
Beefy
And over the months we often wrote. And I had some tales to tell. I left untold. Of wandering along Pigalle. To pick up a rolling coin dropped by a passing girl in a tight orange dress, with black straight shiny hair. I handed it back and she said she would buy me a glass of wine. In a cafe we sat over two vin rouge. Faintly sweet with preservative. She kept smiling and looking at my eyes. And said they were the most beautiful she had ever seen. She came from the countryside near Metz. We twirled our little funnel shaped glasses of wine. Her dark eyes and tan skin. From all the summers of picking grapes she said. And you she also said are but my second client, I am only new at the trade. It is because you are so beautiful I will do it free out of desire. We sat and sat and I didn't know what to do or say until she put her hand out on top of mine and smiled and said come, you are so shy. I had a cognac and I followed her up narrow stairs into her little room. My body stilled ever since Fitzdare. She said when she first came to Paris she lived across the canal from the abattoir and the smell always stayed on her skin. And she sniffed her arm and laughed. She took off her clothes. On her wall a little picture of Saint Agnes, a soldier taking a swing at her with a sword as she was tied to the stake. She inflated her chest and pushed out her breasts and said she did not know what age she was but thought she might be seventeen. With all the money she made she would buy a farm. She watched staring at me as I undressed and said you look like what I would think a prince would look like, so weak and white and thin. She was slippery and covered with sweat all through the Paris afternoon. I slept and dreamt and awoke again. To see her smiling and smiling at me and leaning over to push back my hair. I would close my eyes again. Uncle Edouard said no man was a man without a mistress. And also said there was something eternally macabre in Metz. But Balthazar if you travel in Italy label your luggage "beware poisonous reptiles" to be safe from thieves. We dined together in a cafe off the Avenue Trudaine. And walked through the streets to the Gare du Nord. We parted. She asked if I would ever see her again. I said yes. And she said you know my address and waved out the window of the taxi cab. Which I could see stop further along the Rue Dunkerque. Where she would now continue to ply her trade. And I walked back all the way to Avenue Kleber in bewildered despair.
But a week was spent cheered. With an erection rising on the Metro and often in the bath. Where Beefy said it was always nice to give it quietly a soft and soapy pull. My heart now came to slowly climb that last bit of cliff to the mountain top. And just as I could stand there and see. Outside again. The world all around. Noisy boulevards and the night hour as cafe proprietors rub eyes and waiters count their francs at tables and counters across Paris. And I lay reading one morning the paper to see what new matter was afoot in Metz. I scratched an itch in my pubic hair. I took the autobus and scratched again on the way to class. At night I scrubbed and scratched. Through two days more. Whenever I decently could. And finally thought my God. Anoplura. As this word fell from a long closed closet of useless knowledge. After all these intemperate times. Shouted out as I lay in bed. Where I happened to be. Two jointed tarsi adapted for clinging to the host. Mouthparts used for biting or piercing and sucking.
And Balthazar B took a taxi to the public hospital. Walking in these dismal doors. Asked to wait and then what's your complaint Monsieur. Would Monsieur please remove his trousers and lower his drawers. A magnifying glass put near. Ah yes, ah ha, just what I thought. Please wait Monsieur, I shall be back in a moment. I stood waiting. Until I was ready to complain. And the man in his white coat came back, a pleased look across his face. He said I would be much obliged if you would come this way with me.
Balthazar walked trouserless in shoes and red unforgettable socks. The doctor opened a small door at the end of the room. He stepped aside and said pray proceed. I held my trousers over my arm and heard the strange murmur of voices beyond. The bare and dusty floor. A smell of paper and ink and familiar university sounds. Now become hushed. And I catch my breath as I suddenly stand facing the faces, a few black among the white, tier upon rising tier. Turning as the door slammed shut behind me. A white haired professor at a lectern. Smiling as he approached slapping a long pointer in his hand. Good day, Monsieur, thank you for coming. Now ladies and gentlemen, we have a rare case not too often encountered. Phthirus pubis, the infestations of which are less frequently seen. This good gentleman has been kind enough to help us today. That is enough, there will be no laughter please. Now. Monsieur. Would you lower your drawers please. Do not be alarmed, we have all seen what you shall show us many times before. And we would not trouble you but for your particular complaint. Yes. Please. Just lower a little more. Yes. And just a little more. Good. Thank you. The professor raising his eyebrows, touching his spectacles back on his nose and turning his voice to the class. Balthazar speechless, hands terrified at his hips, with nowhere to move or run, with the feel of blood burning on cheeks as bright as his socks. Catching his breath as the pointer comes back pointing again. The easy drone of the professor's voice. Now, it is a characteristic ladies and gentlemen, that while the body louse is never found on the head, the head louse may be found on the body. But the pubic louse may be found on other parts of the body including the head. Expect to find the louse wherever one finds man. If standards of hygiene are low they will be favourable to their multiplication. Stop that please. This is no laughing matter. This is a disease which can spread through an army and reduce it to a bunch of scratching idiots. I shall require complete silence while I continue please. In this case the pubic louse, sometimes more commonly known as the crabs, hooks into the skin near the roots of the hair. Here note the lightness and soft texture of Monsieur's skin which makes for an optimum host. The movement of the pubic louse is slow, crablike and deliberate. The professor turning. One moment if you please Monsieur. Balthazar B slowly pulling back up his drawers. Ah Monsieur, could I just ask that you keep them down for a few moments longer. Thank you. It is interesting to note that in the case of the body louse a louse free person lying in the same bed as a lousy person will begin to complain in six hours. Here now at the base of Monsieur's pubic hair, and you note it is thickest as it arches here over the penis. Here the eggs are attached when laid. Incubation eight days. The sensitive person reacts with scratching. The bite of the pubic louse, and this is most interesting. If you will permit me Monsieur, yes, to have a closer look. Now we shall see. Ah, yes, the characteristic blue spot is present. Thank you Monsieur. These spots are not found after the bites of the head or body louse. Typhus and trench fever are not transmitted. However, rarely but it is possible, blood poisoning and death can result from an infected scratch. Our patient here does not yet display any laceration. Treatment. As you can observe in this case, Monsieur's pubic hair covers the area about his private parts. These should be completely shaved. Silence please. And, ah pardon, the hair is to be shaved. And the area smeared with vaseline. Also. If you will turn around Monsieur please. Also, you should guard in treatment that the perianal area is accounted for. Oil treatment is to be avoided as it gives rise to smarting of the genitalia. The simplest and the best is the modern insecticide. Thank you Monsieur, you have been most helpful. If you go back by that door, I am sure the best treatment awaitsyou.