There was smoking. Even Jappe and Do Escobar had cigarettes in the corners of their mouths, and as they sat there, blinking in the smoke and each closing one eye, it was clear to all that they had a certain appreciation of the grandeur of being able to sit there thus and smoke a cigarette with such nonchalance, just before the battle. Both were already dressed in adult fashion, but Do Escobar in a far more man-of-the-world fashion than Jappe. He wore tan shoes with very pointed toes to go with his light-grey summer suit, a rose-coloured shirt with attached cuffs, a gay-coloured silk tie, and a round, small-brimmed straw hat, pushed back upon his head, so that the thick, firm, shiny black, well-oiled hillock of hair—for he had brushed it up sideways across his forehead to make this eminence—showed under the hat. Now and then he lifted and shook his right hand, so that the silver bracelet he wore might slip back under his cuff. Jappe looked far less pretentious. His legs were enclosed in tight trousers, which were lighter than his coat and waistcoat and fastened under his black boots by means of straps. The checked sports-cap which covered his blond hair he had, in contrast to Do Escobar, drawn far down over his forehead. He squatted upon the ground and embraced his knees with his arms, and one could then observe, first, that he wore loose cuffs over the sleeves of his shirt, and, second, that the nails of his entwined fingers were cut far too short, or that he was addicted to the vice of gnawing them off. The mood that prevailed in the group was serious and, despite the jaunty and independent pose of smoking, embarrassed and in the main silent. The only one who rebelled against this was Do Escobar himself, who kept on speaking to his entourage, in a loud, hoarse voice with rolling R’s whirling off his tongue, and blowing the smoke through his nostrils. His rattling manner revolted me, and I felt inclined to side with Jappe in spite of his all too short fingernails. Jappe merely passed a word now and then over his shoulder with his neighbours, and seemed apparently quite composed, as he followed the smoke of his cigarette with his eyes.
And then Herr Knaak arrived. I still see him advance with elastic steps from the direction of the Kurhaus, clad in his morning suit of blue striped flannel, and, raising his straw hat, remain standing just beyond our circle. I do not believe that he came very willingly; rather, I am convinced that he made the best of a bad job, by lending his presence to a fistfight; but his position, his difficult relation to the belligerent and pronouncedly masculine youth of the place, no doubt forced him to accede. Brown-skinned, handsome, and fat (fat especially in the region of the hips), he gave lessons in dancing and deportment during the winter, not only privately in families, but also publicly in the Casino, and during the summer he fulfilled the functions of an arranger of festivals and a commissioner of baths at the Kurhaus at Travemünde. What with his vain eyes, his elastic, rhythmical walk—he would always carefully set the out-turned toes of his boots first upon the ground and then let the ball of the foot follow—with his self-satisfied and studied manner of speech, the theatrical self-assurance of his address, the impossible, demonstrative finickiness of his manners, he proved the delight of the female sex, whereas the masculine world, especially the critical juvenile section, regarded him sceptically.
I have often thought of the position in life occupied by François Knaak and have always found it strange and fantastic. The son of simple parents, such as he was, he stood poised, as it were, in midair by his very cultivation of the highest forms of human intercourse, and though he did not belong to society, he was appointed the guardian and teacher of its moral ideals, and paid accordingly. Jappe and Do Escobar were also pupils of his, not private pupils like Johnny, Brattström, and me, but in his public classes at the Casino; and it was there that the ways and character of Herr Knaak suffered the most rigorous criticism at the hands of the young people—for we of the private lessons were more mildly disposed. A fellow who taught how one was to behave nicely to little girls, a fellow concerning whom there were unconsidered rumours that he wore a corset, who seized the edge of his frock-coat with his fingertips, bent the knee, cut caprioles, and then leaped suddenly into the air, where he twinkled with his feet and then plumped back elastically upon the parquetry—well, was such a fellow a man at all? Such was the suspicion that burdened Herr Knaak’s person and destiny, and this was aggravated precisely by his excessive assurance and superiority. His advantage in years was great and it was said (a most amusing idea!) that he had a wife and children in Hamburg. This attribute of his as an adult and the circumstance that one met him only in the dance-hall saved him from being caught and unmasked. Could he do athletics? Had he ever been able to do them? Had he courage? Had he strength? In short, was he to
