Levadski took the letter. The simple solemnnity of the moment drove a tear into his eye, but the remarkably firm handshake of the chambermaid with the raspberry garden and the unbuilt house instantly cheered him up again.
Dear Mister Levadski,
As you made use of our butler service yesterday, we would like to advise you that you are most welcome at any time to avail yourself of the services of our butlers throughout your sojourn at our hotel. If you are interested in a personal butler, please call reception.
Levadski was chewing a banana when the telephone rang. “Come in,” Levadski called in the direction of the door. He was annoyed that a piece of banana fell out of his mouth and onto the carpet when he did so. The telephone rang several times more before Levadski’s gaze gave up on the door. Rocking and wheezing, he got to his feet, trotted over to the desk and picked up the receiver.
The concierge wished Levadski a very good morning. Levadski wished the concierge the same. He had just read the letter and would be interested in the butler from yesterday. The concierge acknowledged this wise decision with a pregnant pause. The butler service would be deducted from Levadski’s credit card at the end of his stay, together with the extras, the concierge said. “What extras?” Levadski wanted to know.
“Telephone, internet, minibar, breakfast, hotel bar, restaurant, barbers,” the concierge-voice rattled off.
And funeral, thought Levadski, giggling into the receiver.
“Do you see the butler button on your telephone? Above it there is a button with a picture of a man in a black bow tie with a coffee cup,” the concierge said. Levadski saw it. All he had to do was press the button once and the butler would come.
“When I press the button, I would like Habib to come.”
“But of course, sir. Habib will be informed immediately.”
This is what things have come to, thought Levadski, an oriental youngster serving an old Ruthenian. From a Ruthenian to a Bohemian, he rhymed.
Levadski dressed himself for breakfast. Buying a new suit, along with the resolve to await death pleasurably in a grand hotel, had been one of the best ideas of his too-long life. Although, thought Levadski, it all seems to have been a little on the short side. This snippet of time I have grappled with. A tiny puddle! Levadski tied his favorite bow tie with the red-billed choughs and marveled at the strange expression. Why was he thinking about a tiny puddle? In the gigantic mirror, an elegant gnome held its silence.
On the sea I was born
On the sea I was raised;
Swore unto the sea did I
To take her as my eternal bride:
To drown therefore my lot would be
As a sailor on the sea,
sang Levadski, to himself. It was as if his life had been a dream of a future and resolute being, of an ultimately irrational being and a sophisticate, of someone whose existence had been worthwhile. And now he was perfect and his life would step outside of him and stand before him, to marvel at him: you have become useless, Levadski. Pah!
Smartly dressed and feeling slightly hungry, Levadski stepped out into the corridor. The elevator came almost immediately, opening its golden chest. From all sides Levadski could see a small bald dandy staring back at him. This hotel is a ship, thought Levadski stepping into the elevator, a ship, and I am a black-headed gull on deck.
E
AUSGANG / EXIT
HALLE / LOBBY
RESTAURANT / CAFÉ / BAR
A BLACK-HEADED GULL ON DECK. LARUS RIDIBUNDUS. Larus, Larus … the name sounds like an invocation. I chose the suit well, true to myself … Here I stand, my breath and I, I and my pathetic little soul. How flat the buttons with the floor numbers are! G for ground, M for Maisonette Suite and my suite, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. A black-headed gull on deck. Poppycock, it can’t be on deck. The black-headed gull can do nothing but follow a ship. It follows the giants of the ocean that slowly set out from harbor. It catches everything the sailors throw to it: flowers, potatoes, nails. It does! With the chocolate-colored hood it displays during the breeding season it can easily be distinguished from other types of gulls, assuming you know which one it is. I know which one it is. But I would, however, like to seriously question my own corporality at this moment in time. So comforting are the lights here in the golden cabin, so dull any memory of pain, so dim. I can prolong or curtail the flight at any time and enter another dimension. Go to the fifth and last floor for example. But now it is time to hover.
The elevator opens its chest. To step onto the carpet, to dip your foot noiselessly into the softness, is a revelation. Levadski’s delight gives way to astonishment: in a display cabinet in front of the entrance to the café there is a gleaming black and gold lorgnette with an elegant plaited chain twining around it. In the display cabinet next to it, dazzling, pristine white pillows with the initials of the grand hotel, napkins, starched bed linens. Levadski bows in front of the inconspicuous treasures shown to such advantage by the cabinet lighting. Through the pane of glass he admires a china doll wearing a chambermaid’s outfit, holding a tiny feather duster in her hand. The door of the hotel café creaks, perfumed ladies go in and out, their steps swallowed by the carpet, their stilettos taking revenge on the marble in the spacious lobby for the brief hardship endured.
The door creaking behind him, Levadski strides through the soft chandelier light of the café, where the sound of the piano bathes his old carcass. A waiter with a menu in hand emerges from the musical backdrop and shows the guest to one of the tables near the grand piano. Everything is in perfect harmony, the lighting with the carpet, the muted tinkling with the soft glow of the mirror. Only Levadski and the waiter stand out from this somnolent lava for as long as they are in motion. Levadski is already seated. The waiter too, who flits back and forth between the tables, soon becomes part of the furniture. Even in such a small room a person becomes a blur, Levadski is astonished to find, as if the room itself possessed so much soul that we, its true animate souls, suddenly are drowned in it.
The pianist mops his brow and with an encouraging nod and barely audible snort plunges into the keys. I Did It My Way. Levadski wants to polish his eyes, which are two dull buttons. The pianist’s friendliness is genuine, but it’s also pure discrimination. Levadski returns the smile. He deserves it. He who has observed so much. So many waterfowl, nocturnal raptors, diurnal birds of prey, coliiformes, totipalmates and waders, antbirds, the blue cuckooshrike, even calm and sociable Nordic birds such as waxwings, with their beautiful crests. Levadski has observed them, too. He would have given all the fruits of his garden, which he did not own, in exchange for the tinkling warble of the waxwing. Levadski opens the dessert menu. If they eat constantly it is believed there will be a harsh winter. Which is pure nonsense — birds always eat constantly. It is just like breathing. Like thinking.