8
I wake up, I am lying in bed, the windows are open, the curtains move gently in the breeze. Outside, the sun is shining. It must be rather late, the bed beside me is made already. There is no one in the bedroom but myself. I feel very sick. There is a burning dryness in my stomach. Only slowly can I bring myself to think. I become aware of pain in my feet. I turn back the covers and see the bandages. And like a thunderclap everything comes to me again: the way I watched the shadows on the glass from outside my office, all that vulgar boozing in the bar-room, the shameful scene in that common barmaid’s room, my drunken shoeless walk home, and worst of all, the scene in the kitchen with Magda! How I degraded myself, oh, how I degraded myself! A burning wave of remorse sweeps over me. The shame of it, the torturing shame of it! I hide my face in my hands, I shut my eyes tight.… I don’t want to see, I don’t want to hear, I don’t want to think any more. I set my jaw, I grind my teeth. I groan: “It can’t be true! It isn’t true! It can’t have been me! I’ve dreamed it all! I must forget all about it. Straight away, I must forget all about it. None of it must be true!”
I tremble as if with a cramp, and then come the tears, tears for all that I have so wantonly thrown away. Endless, bitter, and eventually comforting tears.
And when I have finished crying, the sun is still outside my window, the cool fragrant curtains sway in the gentle breeze. Life is still here, young and smiling. You can begin again at any time, it only depends on you. A little table is standing by my bed, with a breakfast tray upon it. The coffee is keeping warm under a cosy, and now I begin to have breakfast. I bite into a roll. Ineffectively I chew over and over on the first tough mouthful; but the coffee has been made extra strong, gradually my appetite returns, and I enjoy all the little delicacies which Magda has considerately laid out on the tray: sharp anchovies, lovely fat liver sausage, and wonderful Cheshire cheese. Rarely have I eaten with such relish. I feel like a convalescent. Thankfully I greet the neat familiar objects which surround me, greet them like faithful old friends whom I have missed for a long time. Now I find a note from Magda on the bedside table. She tells me that she has just gone to the office for a few hours, she asks me to stay in bed, or at least in the house, till her return; the bath-water has been heated for me.
Half an hour later I left the house. Although walking was very painful on account of my sore feet, I did not intend to remain inactive any longer. I had cleaned myself up from top to toe, put on fresh linen, my best suit—and now I was going to take my old place in the world again.
No hesitation this time; no peering out of door-ways after shadows; I went straight in. I gave a friendly greeting to my staff in the two outer offices, and entered my private office. Magda jumped up from my desk-chair. Formerly she had never sat at it; she had a place at a side table. It hurt me rather that she had already struck me off the list of active partners; she blushed deeply.
“Erwin!” she cried. “I thought.…” And she looked first at me, then at Herr Hinzpeter.
“Good morning, good morning, Herr Hinzpeter,” I said amiably, “Yes, you thought … but I found I felt much better this morning, except for my feet … of course, my feet … but never mind that. Now tell me what you’ve found out, and what you’ve already decided on. Can we make up for the loss of that prison contract?” I sat down in my desk-chair. I looked at them amiably, quite the boss, ready to listen to the suggestions of his staff before making his decision. Barely an hour ago I had been crying out that I wanted to forget, that I must forget.… And now here I sat. I couldn’t forget, for Magda’s pallor and my aching feet in their tight shoes reminded me: but I wanted them to forget. Another five minutes and it would seem like a bad dream to Magda, that not twelve hours before, she had seen me sitting at the kitchen table, three bottles in front of me, my dirty feet in a bowl, the tiled floor swimming with water—just a bad dream! She must forget! She must forget! (I quite realised that it was absolutely disgraceful of me, just to pass events over without a word, to wipe them off the slate, to allow no allusion to them: it was utterly and absolutely disgraceful!) Anyhow, it transpired that not for nothing had I counted on Magda’s energy.
Early in the morning she had already paid a visit to our friend the prison governor, to find out whether there wasn’t perhaps something to be salvaged. And lo and behold, the good fellow had in fact given her a tip, a very valuable tip.… One section of the prisoners, at the beginning of their sentence, were put on to picking oakum—old used or frayed rope was pulled to pieces, reduced to strands, and then, with the tow so gained, new rope was made. There was always a large demand for this old rope, and at the moment the prison administration’s supplies were almost at an end. The governor had suggested to Magda that she might go to Hamburg and buy up old cordage, two or maybe three truckloads. He said there was quite good business to be done in this way, provided one knew the right places to go to, and furthermore, he dropped a hint or two as to where those places were.
As I have said, I listened benevolently to all this. Of course it was only a small casual undertaking that, even with the most advantageous buying, could not nearly replace a three years’ grocery contract for almost fifteen hundred men, but it was something we could take in our stride, even if it didn’t really fit into the framework of my business.
“And who do you think should go, Magda?” I asked. “Perhaps you yourself …?”
“No, much as I’d like to,” she replied hesitatingly. “I don’t think I can go just now. Particularly now …” she broke off and looked at me rather helplessly, yet with meaning. This was one of those looks that I was not going to put up with in any circumstances. So I said, “You’re quite right, Magda. You can hardly be spared at the moment. And besides, there’s the household. Else is still rather young (dear comforting Else!) I think it’s best if I go. I feel quite well again, and as for my feet, well, I can arrange something about that … I can always take taxis …”
Magda hastily interrupted me. “You can’t go, in any case, Erwin. You know you’re not well.” She looked firmly at me, not maliciously, rather sadly and affectionately, but firmly. This time I lowered my glance.
“No,” she continued, “the best thing would be to send Herr Hinzpeter. He could leave this evening, already, and perhaps be back the morning after tomorrow …”
I interrupted her. “One moment, Magda, please. Thank you, Herr Hinzpeter, I’ll call you in again a little later.…”
I waited until the door had closed behind the book-keeper. Then I looked seriously at Magda.
“Magda,” I said, “we’ll let bygones be bygones. We won’t talk about this thing any more. We’ll forget it for good.”
She made a gesture as if she wanted to speak, to contradict this possibly all too-simple solution.
“No, no, Magda,” I said hastily, “let me finish—I beg you to let me go to Hamburg. It is most important to me, and as for my feet, well, I can manage.…”
She made an impatient gesture, as if my feet were entirely unimportant at the moment. This lack of interest in my well-being offended me very deeply, but without showing my feelings, I continued: “It will be very good for my state of mind if I got away for a day or two.” In a lower voice, I added: “Losing that prison contract has greatly upset me, I feel I’ve disgraced myself over it.”
She looked fixedly at me.
“Erwin,” she said, “you said yourself we should let bygones be bygones, and I’ll agree to that, although …” she broke off. “So don’t you start about it yourself. As far as that trip to Hamburg is concerned, I’m firmly convinced that it would not be good for you just now. It’s not distraction you need, but rest and concentration. Apart from that, I’ve made an appointment with Dr Mansfeld for both of us this afternoon.”
“That’s your wilfulness again, Magda,” I cried angrily. “What do I want with Dr Mansfeld? I’m perfectly healthy, apart from my feet, I …” “Oh, your feet!” she cried, now angry too, “that bit of sore skin will soon heal. No, you are really ill, Erwin, I’ve noticed for months past how you’ve changed. The doctor will have to examine you thoroughly.”
“Under your supervision,” I said ironically. “Thank you very much indeed.”
“Erwin,” she said pleadingly. “Just for this once, don’t let’s quarrel. Do come and see the doctor with me, just as a favour. Then he can decide whether it would be good for you to go to Hamburg.”
“Oh,” I said bitterly, “if he’s going to make decisions on your advice, we needn’t go at all. You can tell Hinzpeter straightaway that he’s got to go to Hamburg.”
We each stood at a window of the office, and stared into the street. For my part, I was not only staring, but drumming on the window-pane as well. Outside the spring sun was shining, and many women were passing by, dressed in flowered frocks. Only a short time before I had felt like a convalescent, and had greeted the familiar things around me with fresh interest, convinced that today a new life was beginning … and now the old creaking mill of our dissension was starting up again, grinding all my good resolutions to dust. And why? Because Magda was obstinate and wanted to decide everything on her own. No, this time I didn’t intend to give in. We had agreed that
