26. The Final Solution

10th November 1898

It is now a year and a half since I rid myself of Taxil, Diana and Dalla Piccola. If I was ill, I am recovered. Thanks to autohypnosis, or to Doctor Froïde. And yet I have been feeling anxious over recent months. If I were religious, I'd say it was guilt and that I was being tormented. But remorse for what, and tormented by whom?

The same evening on which I had the pleasure of hoaxing Taxil, I celebrated in happy tranquillity. I was sorry only that there was no one with whom I could share my victory, but I am quite used to my own company. I went to Brébant-Vachette, frequented by the diaspora of those who used to eat at Magny. With all I had earned from the Taxil debacle, I could afford anything. The maître recognized me, but more importantly I recognized him. He held forth on the salade Francilion, created after the triumph of the play by Alexandre Dumas fils—good God, how old that makes me feel. The potatoes are cooked in stock, cut into slices and, while still warm, dressed with salt, pepper, olive oil and Orléans vinegar, plus half a glass of white wine (Château d'Yquem if possible) and chopped fines herbs. At the same time, some very large mussels are cooked in a court bouillon with a stick of celery. Everything is combined and lightly tossed, and covered with thin slices of truffle cooked in champagne. This should be done two hours ahead to allow the dish to cool to just the right temperature before serving.

Yet I am not at ease, and feel I must resume this diary to clarify my state of mind, as if I were still under Doctor Froïde's care.

Disturbing things keep occurring and I live in a state of anxiety. In particular, I'm anxious to know who the Russian is down there in the sewer. He or they—perhaps there were two—was or were here, in these rooms on the 12th of April. Has one of them been back since? On several occasions I have been unable to find something—a small object, a pen, a bundle of papers—and then have found it in a place where I could have sworn I had never put it. Has someone been rummaging around, moving things, looking for something? What?

"Russian" can mean only Rachkovsky, but the man's a sphinx. He's been here twice, always asking me for what he describes as new, unpublished material inherited from my grandfather. And I have been playing for time, partly so that I can finish putting together a satisfactory dossier, partly to whet his appetite.

Last time he said he couldn't wait any longer. He wanted to know whether it was simply a question of price. "I'm not greedy," I told him. "The truth is my grandfather left me some papers that recorded in full what was said that night in the Prague cemetery, but I don't have them here with me. I have to leave Paris to get them."

"Go then," said Rachkovsky, and he made a vague comment about some trouble I might have from developments in the Dreyfus affair. What does he know about it?

 

The fact that Dreyfus had been packed off to Devil's Island had done nothing to calm the controversy. A campaign had been launched by those who thought he was innocent—the Dreyfusards, as they were called—and graphologists have come forward to challenge Bertillon's evidence.

It all began near the end of '95, when Sandherr retired from service (apparently suffering from progressive paralysis, or something of the kind) and was replaced by someone called Picquart. This Picquart turned out to be a busybody and immediately began reexamining the Dreyfus affair, even though the case had been closed several months earlier. Then, last March, he found in one of the embassy wastepaper baskets (once again) the draft of a telegram to be sent by the German military attaché to Esterhazy. Nothing compromising, but why was this military attaché in contact with a French officer? Picquart investigated Esterhazy, looked for samples of his handwriting and realized that the major's writing was similar to that of Dreyfus's bordereau.

I came to hear about it when the news was leaked to La Libre Parole, and Drumont took exception to this meddler who wanted to reopen a case that had been so happily resolved.

"I understand he went to report the matter to Generals Boisdeffre and Gonse, who were fortunately not interested. Our generals are made of sterner stuff."

Around November I met Esterhazy at the newspaper offices. He was very nervous and asked to speak with me. He came to my house accompanied by a Major Henry.

"It is rumored, Simonini, that the handwriting on the bordereau is mine," Esterhazy said. "You copied it from one of Dreyfus's letters or notes, didn't you?"

"But of course. The sample had been given to me by Sandherr."

"I know, but why didn't Sandherr call me to that meeting as well? Was it to make sure I couldn't check the sample of Dreyfus's handwriting?"

"I did what I was told to do."

"I know, I know. But it's in your interest to help me sort out this mystery. If, for some obscure reason, you've been used as part of a plot, someone might think it's a good idea to get rid of a dangerous witness like you. Which means you're involved as well."

I should never have allowed myself to get mixed up with the army. I wasn't at all happy. Then Esterhazy explained what he wanted me to do. He gave me a sample of a letter from Panizzardi, the Italian military attaché, and the text of a letter I had to produce, addressed to the German military attaché, in which Panizzardi referred to Dreyfus's collaboration.

"Major Henry," he explained, "will be responsible for finding this document and passing it on to General Gonse."

I did my job, Esterhazy paid me a thousand francs, and then I don't know what happened, but toward the end of '96 Picquart was transferred to the Fourth Fusiliers in Tunisia.

However, at the same time that I was busy getting rid of Taxil, it seems that Picquart had managed to pull a few strings, and things became more complicated. It was, of course, unofficial news that somehow reached the press, but the Dreyfusard newspapers (which were few) took it as being certain, while the anti-Dreyfusard press talked of defamation. Some telegrams appeared, addressed to Picquart, from which it seemed he was the author of the infamous telegram from the Germans to Esterhazy. As far as I could understand, Esterhazy and Henry were behind it. It was a nice game of tit for tat, where there was no need to invent accusations because all you had to do was throw back at your opponent what he'd sent to you. Heavens above, espionage and counterespionage are far too serious to be left in the hands of soldiers. Professionals like Lagrange and Hébuterne would never have made such a mess, but what can you expect from people who are good enough for the intelligence service one day and for the Fourth Fusiliers in Tunisia the next, or who pass from the papal Zouaves to the Foreign Legion?

Most of all, this last move was of little use, and an investigation of Esterhazy was opened. What if, to put himself above suspicion, he were to say it was I who had written the bordereau?

***

I slept badly for a year. Every night I heard noises in the house. I was tempted to go down to the shop, but was worried I might find a Russian there.

***

In January of this year there was a trial behind closed doors, and Esterhazy was acquitted of all charges. Picquart was sentenced to sixty days' imprisonment. But the Dreyfusards are not giving up. A vulgar writer by the name of Zola has published an inflammatory article ("J'accuse!"), and a group of scribblers and supposed scientists have joined the campaign, demanding a review of the case. Who are these people—Proust, France, Sorel, Monet, Renard, Durkheim? Not the kind who frequent Salon Adam. Proust, I'm told, is a twenty-five-year-old pederast writer whose works are fortunately unpublished, and Monet is a dauber—I've seen one or two of his paintings, which look at the world through gummy eyes. What have a writer and a painter to do with the decisions of a military tribunal? Poor France, as Drumont would say. If only these "intellectuals"—as Clemenceau, that defender of lost causes, calls them—kept their minds on the few things they knew something about.

Zola was put on trial and, by good fortune, sentenced to a year's imprisonment. Justice still exists in France, says Drumont, who in May was elected as deputy for Algiers, ensuring that there will be a good anti-Semitic group in parliament, which will help to defend the claims of the anti-Dreyfusards.

Everything seemed to be going in the right direction. Picquart had been sentenced to eight months in prison in July, Zola had fled to London, and I thought that no one would now reopen the case. Then a Captain Cuignet appeared, and demonstrated that Panizzardi's letter accusing Dreyfus was a forgery. How could he make such a claim when I had done the job so perfectly? In any event, the high command took it seriously and, since the letter had been found and passed on by Major Henry, people began to talk about the "Henry forgery." When put under pressure in late August, Henry admitted everything. He was taken to the prison at Mont-Valérien and slit his throat with a razor the following day. As I said, never leave certain things in the hands of soldiers: What? Arrest a suspected traitor and allow him to keep his razor?

"Henry didn't commit suicide," claimed Drumont angrily. "He was forced into it. There are still too many Jews on the general staff. We shall open a public subscription to fund a campaign to clear Henry's name!"

Four or five days later, Esterhazy escaped to Belgium, and then to England. Almost an admission of guilt. I didn't understand why he hadn't defended himself by throwing the blame on me.

***

 

"There are still too many Jews on the general staff."

 

A few nights ago, while I was turning these matters over in my mind, I again heard noises in the house. The next morning I found not only the shop but also the cellar in disarray, and the trap door to the sewer was open.

Just as I was wondering whether I too should be making a run for it, like Esterhazy, Rachkovsky rang the bell at the shop door. Without troubling to come upstairs, he sat down in a chair that was for sale, had anyone ever wanted to buy it, and began immediately: "What would you say if I told the Sûreté that in the cellar there are four corpses, one of which happens to be a man of mine I've been searching for everywhere? I'm tired of waiting. I will give you two days to get the Protocols you've told me about and then I'll forget what I've seen down there. That seems a fair deal."

It didn't entirely surprise me that Rachkovsky knew about the sewer. Sooner or later I would have to give him something, so I tried to extract other benefits from the deal he was offering me. "Perhaps," I ventured, "you could help me resolve a problem I have with the military secret service."

He laughed. "You're worried they'll find out it was you who penned the bordereau?"

This man clearly knew everything. He put his hands together as if to collect his thoughts, and began to explain.

"You probably have no idea what's going on, and you're frightened that someone's going to blame you. Don't worry. It's important for the whole of France, for reasons of national security, that the bordereau is believed to be genuine."

"Why?"

"Because the French artillery is preparing its latest weapon, the 75-millimeter gun, and the Germans must continue to believe the French are still working on the 120-millimeter gun. The Germans had to find out that a spy was trying to sell them secrets about the 120-millimeter gun because they'd then believe this was the sensitive point. You, as a person of good sense, will see that the Germans should have said to themselves, 'Goodness gracious, if this bordereau were genuine, we ought to have known something about it before it was tossed into the wastebasket!' And so they should have seen through it. Instead, they fell into the trap. That's because no one in the secret service ever tells the whole story. Everyone thinks that the fellow at the next desk is a double agent, and probably each accused the other: 'What? Such an important piece of news had arrived and the military attaché didn't know about it, even though it was addressed to him? Or had he known about it and kept quiet?' Imagine the torrent of mutual suspicion—someone's head must have rolled for that. It was (and still is) vital for everyone to accept the bordereau as genuine. That was why Dreyfus had to be sent to Devil's Island as quickly as possible, to ensure that he wouldn't start defending himself, saying it was impossible that he'd spied on the 120-millimeter gun because, if anything, he'd have spied on the 75-millimeter gun. It seems, in fact, that someone gave him a pistol, offering him a chance to kill himself to avoid the humiliation that awaited him. In that way, all risk of a public trial would have been prevented. But Dreyfus was stubborn. He insisted on defending himself because he thought he was innocent. An officer should never think. What's more, I don't believe the wretch knew anything about the 75-millimeter gun. It's hardly likely that such things end up on the desk of a trainee. But it was always better to be cautious. Understand? If anyone knew the bordereau was your handiwork, the whole pack of cards would collapse and the Germans would realize that the 120-millimeter gun was a red herring—these Boche might be slow on the uptake, but they're not completely stupid. You'll tell me it's not just the Germans but also the French secret service who are in the hands of a group of bunglers. That's obvious. Otherwise these men would be working for the Okhrana, which is more efficient and, as you see, has informers in both camps."

"But Esterhazy?"

"That fine gentleman of ours is a double agent. He was pretending to spy on Sandherr for the German embassy but in the meantime was spying on the German embassy for Sandherr. He had worked hard in setting up the Dreyfus case, but Sandherr realized his days were numbered and the Germans were beginning to suspect him. Sandherr knew perfectly well he'd given you a sample of Esterhazy's handwriting. The object was to put the blame on Dreyfus, but if things had taken a turn for the worse, it was always possible to put the responsibility for the bordereau on Esterhazy. Esterhazy, of course, realized the trap he'd fallen into only when it was too late."

"So why, then, didn't he name me?"

"Because they'd have accused him of lying, and he'd have ended up in some fortress, or floating in a canal, whereas this way he can enjoy a life of leisure in London, on a good annuity, at the expense of the secret service. Whether they continue to say it's Dreyfus, or decide that the traitor is Esterhazy, the bordereau has to remain genuine. No one will ever put the blame on a forger like you. You're as safe as houses. I, on the other hand, will be causing you a great deal of bother over those corpses down there. So out with that information. You'll receive a visit tomorrow from a young man called Golovinsky, who works for me. You don't have to produce the original finished documents—they'll have to be in Russian, and he will deal with that. You have to provide him with new, genuine, convincing material, to flesh out that dossier of yours on the Prague cemetery, which by now is lippis notum et tonsoribus. What I mean is, it's fine for the revelations to originate from a meeting there, in the cemetery, but it mustn't be clear when the meeting took place, and the discussions must be relevant for today, not medieval fantasies."

I had some work to do.

***

I had almost two full days and nights to assemble the hundreds of notes and clippings I'd been gathering in the course of my visits to Drumont over more than a decade. I never imagined using them because they had all been published in La Libre Parole, but for the Russians it might be unfamiliar material. I had to make a choice. Golovinsky and Rachkovsky were certainly not interested in knowing whether or not the Jews were hopeless musicians or explorers. Of more interest, perhaps, was the suspicion that they were preparing the economic downfall of good people.

I checked everything I had already used for the rabbis' earlier speeches. The Jews planned to take over the railways, mines, forests, tax administration and landownership; to control the judiciary, the legal profession and education; to infiltrate philosophy, politics, science, art and above all medicine, since a doctor gets closer to families than to a priest. It was necessary for the Jews to undermine religion, spread free thought, stop the teaching of Christianity in schools, take over the alcohol trade, control the press. Heavens above, was there anything else they could still want?

There was nothing to prevent me from recycling all this material. Rachkovsky would have seen the version of the rabbis' speeches I had given to Glinka, which dealt entirely with arguments of a religious and apocalyptic nature. But I had to add something new to my previous versions.

I carefully considered all the issues that might catch the interest of an average reader. I wrote it all out in the calligraphic style of half a century ago, on paper that was appropriately yellowed. And there they were: the documents my grandfather had given me, written down at meetings of the Jews in that ghetto where he had lived as a young man, translated from the Protocols the rabbis had recorded after their meeting in the Prague cemetery.

 

When Golovinsky came to the shop the next day, I was astonished that Rachkovsky could have given such an important assignment to a flabby, shortsighted, badly dressed young peasant who looked as if he'd always been last in the class. Then, as we talked, I realized he was brighter than he seemed. He spoke very poor French with a heavy Russian accent, but he immediately asked how it was that rabbis in the Turin ghetto had written in French. I told him that all educated people in Piedmont spoke French at that time, and he accepted it. Later I wondered whether my rabbis in the cemetery would have spoken Hebrew or Yiddish, but since the documents were in French, the question was of no consequence.

 

"Notice, for example, on this page," I said, "how importance is given to the spread of ideas by atheist philosophers to demoralize the Gentiles. And listen here: 'We must cancel the concept of God from Christian minds, replacing it with arithmetical calculation and material needs.'"

I had assumed that everybody hates arithmetic. Remembering Drumont's complaints about obscene publications, I decided that, at least for the more orthodox reader, the idea of spreading easy, vapid entertainment for the masses would have seemed excellent for the conspiracy. "Listen to this," I said to Golovinsky. "'To prevent the population from discovering new kinds of political action, we will distract it with novel forms of amusement: athletic games, pastimes, hobbies of various kinds, taverns, and we will invite them to compete in artistic and sporting competitions...We will encourage the unrestrained love of luxury and will increase salaries, but this will bring no benefit to the worker, because we will at the same time increase the price of basic commodities on the pretext of an agricultural crisis. We will undermine the system of production by sowing the seeds of anarchy among workers and encouraging them to abuse alcohol. We will seek to direct public opinion toward any kind of fantastical theory that might seem progressive or liberal.'"

"Good, good," said Golovinsky. "But is there anything here for students, apart from the arithmetic? Students are important in Russia. They are troublemakers who have to be kept under control."

"Here we are," I said. "'When we are in power, we shall remove from educational programs all subjects that might harm the spirit of young people, and we shall make them into obedient citizens who love their sovereign. Instead of allowing them to study classics and ancient history, which contain more bad than good, we shall make them study the problems of the future. We shall cancel from human memory the record of past centuries, which could be unpleasant for us. With a methodical education we will be able to eliminate the remnants of that independence of thought which has served our purposes for a considerable time. We shall double the tax on books of fewer than three hundred pages, and these measures will force writers to publish works that are so long they will have few readers. We, on the other hand, will publish low-priced works to educate the public mind. Taxation will lead to a reduction in reading for pleasure, and no one who wants to attack us with their pen will find a publisher.' As for the newspapers, the Jewish plan envisages a sham freedom of the press that ensures greater control over opinions. According to our rabbis, as many magazines as possible must be bought up, so that they express apparently different views, to give the impression of a free circulation of ideas, though in reality they will all reflect the ideas of the Jewish rulers. They observe that it won't be difficult to buy up journalists, as they are all of the same Masonic brotherhood, and no publisher will have the courage to reveal what they all have in common because no one is allowed into the world of journalism who hasn't been involved in some shady activity in their private life. 'All newspapers will, of course, be prevented from reporting on crime, because the people will believe that the new regime has stamped out criminal behavior. But there is hardly any need to worry about press restrictions, since the people, weighed down as they are by work and poverty, won't notice whether or not the press is free. Why should the proletarian worker be concerned about whether the gossipmongers have the right to gossip?'"

"This is good," exclaimed Golovinsky. "Our troublemakers are always complaining about supposed government censorship. They have to understand that a Jewish government would be worse."

"On this point it gets better: 'We have to beware of the pettiness, inconstancy and lack of common sense of the crowd. The crowd is blind and has no insight; it listens one moment to the Right, one moment to the Left. Is it possible for the masses to administer the affairs of state without confounding them with their own personal interests? Are they able to organize a defense against foreign enemies? That is absolutely impossible, because any plan, when divided into as many parts as the minds of the mass, loses its value and therefore becomes unintelligible and impracticable. Only an autocrat is capable of planning on a vast scale, assigning a role to each body in the mechanism of the state machine...Civilization cannot exist without absolute tyranny, because civilization can only be promoted under the protection of the ruler, whoever he is, and not by the mass.' There we are. And look at this other document: 'Since there has never been such a thing as a constitution that has emerged from the wishes of a population, the plan of command must spring from a single source.' And read this: 'We shall control everything, like a many-armed Vishnu. We will have no need of the police: one third of our subjects will control the other two thirds.'"

"Magnificent."

"And here's another: 'The crowd is barbaric, and behaves barbarically at every opportunity. Look at those terrible alcoholics, reduced to idiocy by drink, whose consumption is limitless and tolerated by liberty! Should we allow ourselves and our families to do the same? Christians are led astray by alcohol; their young people are rendered mad by premature excess at the instigation of our agents...In politics pure force is the only winner, violence must be the principle, cunning and hypocrisy have to be the rule. Evil is the only way of achieving good. We must not stop at corruption, deception and betrayal: the end justifies the means.'"

"There is much talk about communism in Russia. What do the rabbis of Prague think about it?"

"Read this: 'In politics we must be able to confiscate property without hesitation if, by doing so, we are able to bring down others and gain power for ourselves. For the worker we will appear to be liberators, feigning to love him according to the principles of brotherhood proclaimed by our Freemasonry. We will say we have come to free him from the oppressor, and will invite him to join the ranks of our armies of socialists, anarchists and communists. The aristocracy, who exploited the working classes, were nevertheless interested in ensuring they were well fed, healthy and strong. But our purpose is the opposite: we are interested in the degeneration of Gentiles. Our strength consists in keeping the worker in a state of penury and impotence, since by doing so we keep him subject to our will, and in his own surroundings he will never find the power and energy to rise up against us.' And then there's this: 'We shall bring about a universal economic crisis using all secret means possible, with the help of gold, which is all in our hands. We will reduce vast hordes of workers throughout Europe to ruin. These masses will then throw themselves with alacrity upon those who, in their ignorance, have been prudent since their childhood, and will plunder their possessions and spill their blood. They will not harm us, since we will be well informed as to the time of the attack and will take the necessary measures to protect our interests.'"

"Do you have anything on Jews and Freemasons?"

"Of course, here we are. It could hardly be clearer: 'Until we have achieved power, we shall establish and increase the number of Masonic lodges throughout the world. These lodges will provide our main source of information; they will also be our propaganda centers. In these lodges we will bring together all socialist and revolutionary classes of society. Almost all international secret police agents will be members of our lodges. Most of those who join secret societies are opportunists who seek to make their own way and have no worthy purposes. With such people it will be easy for us to reach our goal. We must, of course, have complete control over Masonic activities.'"

"Excellent!"

"Remember also that wealthy Jews look with interest at anti-Semitism that affects poor Jews, because it induces kinder-hearted Christians to feel compassion toward their entire race. Read this: 'Anti-Semitic demonstrations were also very useful for Jewish leaders, as they stirred compassion in the hearts of certain Gentiles toward a population that was apparently ill treated. This then served to secure much sympathy among Gentiles for the Zionist cause. Anti-Semitism, which took the form of persecution of low-class Jews, helped leaders to control them and keep them in servitude. They accepted this persecution because they intervened at the appropriate moment and saved their brethren. Note that during anti-Semitic unrest Jewish leaders never suffer, either in their ambitions or in their official positions as administrators. It was these same leaders who set the "Christian mastiffs" against the more lowly Jews. The mastiffs maintained order among their flocks and so helped to strengthen the stability of Zion.'"

I had also found a large number of overly technical pages that Joly had dedicated to loan and interest-rate mechanisms. I didn't understand much about it, nor was I sure whether taxation had changed since Joly's time, but I relied on my source and gave Golovinsky pages and pages that would probably have been of interest to an artisan trader who had fallen into debt, or indeed into the maw of usury.

Finally, I had been listening recently to discussions at La Libre Parole about the metropolitan railway that was to be built in Paris. It was an old story that had been going on for decades, but it was not until July of '97 that an official plan had been approved, and the first excavations had just begun for a line between Porte de Vincennes and Porte de Maillot. There was still little to be seen, but a Métro company had been established, and La Libre Parole had been waging a campaign for more than a year against the large number of Jewish shareholders involved. I thought it was useful, then, to link the Jewish conspiracy to the railway and had therefore written: "All cities will have metropolitan railways and tunnels. From there we will blow up all the world's cities, along with their institutions and all their documents."

"But if the meeting in Prague happened such a long time ago," asked Golovinsky, "how could the rabbis have known about metropolitan railways?"

"First of all, if you go and look at the last version of 'The Rabbi's Speech,' which had appeared about ten years ago in Le Contemporain, the meeting in the Prague cemetery took place in 1880, when I think there was already a metropolitan railway in London. Anyway, it's quite enough that the plan sounds like a prophecy."

Golovinsky was much taken by this passage, which he thought to be, in his words, most promising. Then he observed: "Don't you think that many of the ideas expressed in these documents contradict each other? For example, the Jews want to ban luxuries and superfluous pleasures and punish drunkenness, and then, in the next breath, to encourage sport and entertainment, and turn the workers into alcoholics."

"The Jews are always saying one thing and then the opposite—they are liars by nature. But if you produce a document many pages long, people won't read it all in one go. We have to try to obtain one wave of revulsion after another, and when someone is scandalized by a statement they have read today, they forget the one that had scandalized them yesterday. And if you read carefully, you will see that the rabbis of Prague want to use luxury, entertainment and alcohol to reduce the common people to slavery now, but once they have gained power, they will force the people to lead far more temperate lives."

"That's quite true, excuse me."

"You see," I concluded with legitimate pride, "I've pondered over these papers for decades and decades, since I was a boy, and know them inside out."

"You are right. But I'd like to end with a very powerful statement, something that will stick in the mind and symbolize the iniquity of the Jews. For example: 'Ours is an ambition that knows no limits, a voracious greed, a desire for ruthless revenge, an intense hatred.'"

"Not bad for a cheap novel. But do you think the Jews, who are anything but stupid, are likely to say something that would immediately condemn them?"

"I wouldn't be so worried about that. The rabbis are talking in their cemetery, sure that no one can hear them. They have no shame. The crowds must feel a sense of outrage."

 

 

"But I'd like to end with a very powerful statement, something that will stick in the mind and symbolize the iniquity of the Jews. For example: 'Ours is an ambition that knows no limits, a voracious greed, a desire for ruthless revenge, an intense hatred.'"

 

Golovinsky was a good collaborator. He took, or pretended to take, my papers as genuine, but did not hesitate to alter them when it suited him. Rachkovsky had chosen the right man.

"I think," said Golovinsky finally, "I have enough material for what we shall call 'The Protocols of the Assembly of Rabbis in the Prague Cemetery.'"

The Prague cemetery was slipping out of my control, but I was probably contributing to its success. With a feeling of relief I invited Golovinsky to dinner at Paillard, on the corner of rue de la Chaussée d'Antin and boulevard des Italiens. Expensive, but superb. Golovinsky clearly appreciated the poulet à l'archiduc and the canard à la presse. But someone who came from the Steppes may well have tucked into choucroute with the same enthusiasm. It would have cost me less, and I could have avoided the waiters' suspicious looks at a customer who masticated so noisily.

But he ate with relish, his eyes glinting with excitement, perhaps because of the wine or—I don't know—out of some real religious or political passion.

"It'll be a fine piece of writing," he said, "that reveals their deep hatred as a race and as a religion. Their hatred gushes forth from these pages, it seems to overflow from a vessel full of bile. Many will understand that we have reached the moment of the final solution."

"I've already heard this expression from Osman Bey—you know him?"

"By reputation. But it's obvious. This accursed race has to be rooted out at all costs."

"Rachkovsky doesn't seem to share that view. It's better, he says, to keep the Jews alive as a good enemy."

"A myth. It's always easy to find a good enemy. And don't imagine, just because I work for Rachkovsky, that I share all his views. He taught me himself that while you're working for one master today, you must prepare yourself to serve another one tomorrow. Rachkovsky won't last forever. In Holy Russia there are those with much more radical ideas than his. The governments of western Europe are too cowardly to decide upon a final solution. Russia, on the other hand, is a country full of energy and bright hope, thinking always of total revolution. It's from there that we must expect the decisive gesture, not from these Frenchmen who continue to ramble on about egalité and fraternité, not from those German boors who are incapable of grand gestures..."

 

I had already guessed as much after my nocturnal meeting with Osman Bey. Abbé Barruel had decided not to pursue my grandfather's allegations after reading his letter because he feared a general massacre. But what my grandfather had wanted was probably exactly what Osman Bey and Golovinsky were predicting. Perhaps my grandfather had condemned me to making his dream come true. Oh, God! Fortunately it wasn't up to me to eliminate an entire people, but I was making a contribution in my own modest way.

And it was, after all, a profitable business. The Jews would never pay me to exterminate all Christians, I thought, since there are too many Christians and if it were possible they would do it themselves. Wiping out the Jews, when all is said and done, would be possible. Despite their numbers, God Almighty succeeded in drowning all of humanity during the time of the Flood, and the Jews were a minuscule percentage of the earth's inhabitants in Noah's time.

I wouldn't have to destroy them myself—I am (as a rule) a man who recoils from physical violence—but I knew how it had to be done, since I lived through the days of the Commune. Take gangs of men who are well trained and indoctrinated, and drag anyone you meet with a hooked nose and curly hair straight up against the wall. You'd end up losing a few Christians but, in the words of the bishop who had to attack Béziers when it was occupied by the Cathars, it is better to be prudent and kill the lot. God will recognize his own.

As it is written in their Protocols, the end justifies the means.