game.
“It hurts! Help me, for fuck’s sake!”
Finally one of the thugs managed to get to his feet and approached Jurgen.
“Don’t do it,” said Paul, horrified. “Get him to a hospital and have them remove it.”
The other boy glanced at Paul, his face expressionless. It was almost as though he weren’t there or weren’t in control of his actions. He approached Jurgen and placed his hand on the handle of the penknife. However, as he gripped it, Jurgen gave a sudden jerk in the opposite direction and the blade of the penknife gouged out much of his eyeball.
Jurgen was suddenly silent and brought his hand to the place where the penknife had been a moment earlier.
“I can’t see. Why can’t I see?”
Then he fainted.
The boy who had pulled out the penknife stood looking at him dumbly as the pinkish mass that had been the future baron’s right eye slid down the blade to the ground.
“You’ve got to take him to a hospital!” shouted Paul.
The rest of the gang were getting slowly to their feet, still not quite understanding what had happened to their leader. They had gone to the stable to obtain a simple, crushing victory; instead the unthinkable had happened.
Two of them took Jurgen by the hands and feet and carried him toward the door. The others joined them. Not one of them said a word.
Only the boy with the penknife stayed where he was, looking questioningly at Paul.
“Go on, then, if you dare,” Paul said, praying to heaven that he wouldn’t.
The boy opened his hand, dropped the penknife to the ground, and ran outside. Paul watched him leave; then, finally alone, he started to cry.
18
“I have no intention of doing that.”
“You’re my daughter, you’ll do as I say.”
“I’m not an object you can buy and sell.”
“This is the greatest opportunity of your life.”
“Of your life, you mean.”
“You’re the one who’ll be a baroness.”
“You don’t know him, Father. He’s a pig, a rude, arrogant…”
“Your mother described me in very similar terms when we first met.”
“Keep her out of this. She would never have…”
“Wanted the best for you? Tried to secure your happiness?”
“… forced her daughter to marry someone she detests. And a gentile, what’s more.”
“Would you have preferred someone nicer? A starving pauper like your friend the coal man? He’s not Jewish, either, Alys.”
“At least he’s not a bad person.”
“That’s what you think.”
“I matter to him.”
“You matter to him to the tune of exactly three thousand marks.”
“What?”
“The day your friend came to visit, I left a wad of banknotes on the washbasin. Three thousand marks for his troubles, on the condition he never show up here again.”
Alys was speechless.
“I know, my child. I know it’s hard…”
“You’re lying.”
“I swear to you, Alys, on your mother’s grave, that your friend the coal man took the money from the sink. You know I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”
“I…”
“People will always disappoint you, Alys. Come here, give me a hug
…”
“Don’t touch me!”
“You’ll get over it. And you’ll learn to love the son of Baron von Schroeder as your mother ended up loving me.”
“I hate you!”
“Alys! Alys, come back!”
She left home two days later, in the dim morning light, amid a blizzard that had already blanketed the streets in snow.
She took with her a large suitcase filled with clothes and all the money she was able to get together. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to keep her going for a few months until she could find a decent job. Her absurd, childish plan to return to Prescott, dreamt up at a time when it had seemed normal to travel in first-class compartments and eat her fill of lobster, was a thing of the past. Now she sensed that she was a different Alys, one who had to make her own way.
She also took a locket that had belonged to her mother. It contained a photo of Alys and another of Manfred. Her mother had worn it around her neck until the day she died.
Before leaving, Alys paused a moment at her brother’s door. She rested her hand on the doorknob but did not open it. She was afraid that seeing Manfred’s round, innocent face would diminish her resolve. Her willpower had already proved to be considerably weaker than she had anticipated.
Now it’s time to change all that, she thought, going out onto the street.
Her leather boots left dirty tracks in the snow, but the blizzard took care of that, wiping them out as it raged by.
19
On the day he was attacked, Paul and Hulbert showed up at their first delivery an hour late. Klaus Graf was white with rage. When he saw Paul’s battered face and heard his tale-corroborated with constant nodding from Hulbert, whom Paul had found tied to his bed, humiliation etched across his face-he sent him home.
The next morning Paul was surprised to find Graf at the stables, a place he almost never visited before the end of the day. Still confused by recent events, he didn’t notice the strange look the coal man was giving him.
“Hello, Herr Graf. What are you doing here?” he asked cautiously.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure that there wouldn’t be any more problems. Can you assure me those boys won’t be coming back, Paul?”
The young man hesitated a moment before replying.
“No, sir. I can’t.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Klaus rummaged in his coat and pulled out a couple of wrinkled, dirty banknotes. He handed them guiltily to Paul.
Paul took them, doing the sums in his head.
“A portion of my monthly salary, including today. Sir, are you dismissing me?”
“I’ve been thinking about what happened yesterday… I don’t want any problems, you understand?”
“Of course, sir.”
