Iron Gustav (42 page)

It's the sweetness of a voice, the as yet unknown lightness of being, magic and seduction …

What had the professor given him for homework? It is not a shame to get into chaos, it is only a shame to stay in it.

The bell rang outside.

‘Your comrades,' said the professor quite peaceably. ‘Your comrades. You stay here, Hackendahl, where you belong.'

They entered, some in a hurry, some leisurely, others pale and a few glowing with the cold, but all excited and happy.

‘Hello, Hackendahl.'

‘Evening, Professor.'

‘Would you believe it? Heinz has found his way here!'

‘Behold, Timotheus!'

‘That's fine!'

Heinz shook his hand. He felt as if he were in a dream. The familiar faces – not seen for a week, ten days, a fortnight – had become strange, or was it he who had become strange? Some of the lads hurried into the kitchen to make the tea – Professor Degener, of course, was a bachelor – others reported that they were on the scent of such-and-such weapons, and had collected this and that.

‘What about hand grenades, Herr Professor? D'you understand anything about 'em? How do you know if they're ready for use?'

‘Ready for use, you oaf! I'll tell you all right!'

‘Herr Professor, in the Artilleriestrasse you can buy revolvers …'

‘So you can at the Schlesische Station.'

‘Everywhere,
you ass!'

‘Let me finish – five to fifteen marks each, Brownings, Mausers, army revolvers, Verey-light pistols … I find pistols especially dangerous because anyone can hide them in their pocket. Other weapons can be seen.'

The professor sighed. ‘How much do you want, you young rascals? It's costing me my entire fortune.'

‘Perhaps five hundred marks to start with.'

‘Five hundred marks! The bank clerks already look at me as if I were bankrupt. But all right, Hoffmann, drop in tomorrow morning at eleven.'

‘Herr Professor, I've made the acquaintance of a roof sniper. He wants to retire – it's got a little too hot for him. A light machine-gun, fifty to a hundred marks. What about it?'

‘Certainly, Bertuleit. Roof sniper – the devil! Tomorrow morning at eleven.'

It was a strange world, an enchanted world, a world gone mad. Heinz Hackendahl listened with astonishment and a certain indignation at being excluded from these activities. Moreover, he had the feeling that Degener was watching him unobtrusively and his wrath increased. What was the sense of it all? A mere game. Why didn't they worry about food for the starving instead? And he thought of the weary queues of women outside the food shops, of women who had struggled for the lives of their children four years and more – and now, when peace was at hand, these people were thinking about machine-guns.

Peace for slaves? There was an old saying – ‘rather slavery than death'! Oh, no, no, oh, God! Erich must have reversed this – ‘rather dead than slavery'. He didn't want a slave peace … But what are we supposed to do? Collect weapons? But we've no longer the hands who want even to hold such weapons. We can fight no longer! Mad, obsessive thoughts! Madness, disorder – rather do nothing than do something wrong. Rather do something wrong than do nothing at all?

And now a shrill voice was heard, naturally the voice of dear Porzig, who had just entered the room. ‘Herr Professor, I would like to point out that a room exists in the Reichstag with the following
nameplate: Erich Hackendahl. I happen to have been in the Reichstag today and had a look at what's going on there. He's got a brand new cardboard nameplate!'

For a moment there was a deathly silence. Everyone looked at Heinz Hackendahl. He moved and tried to laugh scornfully, but he angrily felt that he'd gone blood-red. However, his blushes faded in extreme bitterness. Hatred rose up in him. As fast as lightning, it occurred forcibly to him: yes, that's what they were like – these idealists! He who is not with me is against me. They suspect anyone who doesn't collect weapons like they do. And just because Erich's got a room there, they suspect him. Erich can really achieve something there, something useful, something decent. That's what he's called. Is he not in Security? Oh, that's all nonsense! I know he's not doing anything decent at all. He's cold-heartedly ambitious, a pleasure seeker … But what's it got to do with me? Why does he suspect me? If Porzig shouts like that, doesn't it mean that I'm also suspect?

Then the professor spoke into the silence. ‘I don't understand what you want, Porzig? Our schoolfriend's name is Heinz Hackendahl, not Erich!'

Immediately all the faces, which had looked so strangely at Heinz, changed. They were friendly. Conversation continued, Hoffmann slapped Heinz on the shoulder and said, ‘What an idiot Porzig is!'

Kunze muttered merrily, ‘Am I my brother's keeper?'

Finally Porzig appeared, drew himself up self-importantly next to Heinz, and explained long-windedly, though rather embarrassed, in the following words: ‘Don't misunderstand me, Hackendahl, will you? You must understand that we're all playing dangerously with fire here and must be terribly careful. Is that clear? These people here are not all lawyers, but my old dad's a regional councillor, and I know my Criminal Code! Of course, Professor Degener is a mere child … Well, you understand all right! All in order, Hackendahl?'

And Heinz assured him that all was in order. But he didn't have the feeling it was; he sat a while a little worried, laughing among all the camaraderie and trust, repeatedly thinking: it's not at all true what Degener said. That was Erich, and I'm Heinz. But we're both Hackendahls and have an iron father. That's why we're too soft. And
even if everyone looks at me in such a friendly way and behaves as if I belong to them … I don't, and will not. I only want one thing – to be at the railway station as quickly as possible and go to Dahlem! That's what I want, and I'm just bored with all this hunting for weapons.

After a while, he stood up and said goodbye to everyone. Only when he stood in front of Degener did he suddenly feel guilty about him, and he said what he in no way had wanted to: ‘I won't forget all that with the chaos, Herr Professor!'

The professor unwillingly shook his lion's head with the red beard and said: ‘
Kalos kathagos
– student Hackendahl – you still know that: only what is good is beautiful, isn't that so?'

And that was the most puzzling and wonderful thing about this Professor Degener. Because he couldn't possibly have heard of Tinette, yet his last words sounded exactly as though he had just written her a testimonial.

Heinz had hardly rung the bell when the maid was at the door, saying reproachfully: ‘Madame has already asked for you four times.' And hardly had he taken off his overcoat and glanced in the mirror – his damned tie would drag into a knot of course – when Tinette entered the hall. ‘But, Henri, where have you been all this time? You were supposed to come at three. And now it's four! I thought you reliable and Erich unreliable – now it looks as if it's the other way round after all.'

Heinz was furious – she hadn't said a word about three o'clock. But what was the use of contradicting her? And the maid hadn't gone away yet; she ought to know better than to stand and stare at him as if he were some strange animal from India or Baluchistan. She should be ashamed of herself!

Tinette crossed her hands behind her back, looked closely into his angry face and laughed softly. ‘What a face you're pulling, Henri. Exactly the same as when you were outside the door; I watched you for five minutes. Didn't you want to come? Why are you so angry?
Look at me, Henri – you're just like Erich when he's in a rage. Neither of you will look at me then. But I – I keep my best smiles for people.' And she laughed again. That horrible maid was still there, too, holding his shabby overcoat. Tinette was terrible. She kept nothing to herself, whoever was present. Yes, she was utterly shameless. She hadn't the least idea of shame, like Nature; and like Nature she was just as unconstrained.

‘Madame, shall I take the coat to the gentleman?'

‘Yes, Erna, do. You don't mind, Henri, I hope? To tell the truth there is a gentleman here who's interested in it.'

Heinz made an angry gesture. He watched the maid go away. ‘What is she going to do with my coat?'

‘Silly Henri, silly, silly Henri! Does Erna embarrass you? All she thinks is – here's the young gentleman who has fallen in love with Madame. You have fallen in love with me, haven't you?'

‘No! No! No!' he shouted furiously.

She laughed. ‘You see! But there's no harm in it, you can love me, Henri. You don't want anything, you're a German, so you don't want to take me from Erich. I'm your German Gretchen – no, not Gretchen. Gretchen had a child.' She laughed.

Shameless! As shameless as Nature! She threw him into chaos and stopped at nothing. She stopped at nothing. But suppose she were not shameless, suppose she were simply coarse? What then? And as if she had guessed his thoughts she suddenly released his shoulders. ‘All right, go, Henri. You want to leave me alone, too. I'm alone all day … So go, if you want to.'

Acting, of course! But where was his coat? Should he go without it? Was she so upset by this little disagreement with her seventeen-year-old brother-in-law that she wanted to let him go out in the miserable damp without a coat? Just acting! But there was the merest chance that she didn't really mean it. Or did she?

All of a sudden her hand was quite close to his mouth … She was looking so strangely at him … Yes, there was a faint chance that she did like him – not with the passion so tormenting and wonderful that he felt for her, but a genuine liking perhaps … And his lips fastened on her hand, breathing its fragrance, his mouth devouring the soft flesh … insatiable.

‘Oh,'
she said, her eyes quite serious now. ‘You're learning, Henri! It wouldn't do for Erich to see this.'

And then they joined the gentleman to whom the overcoat had been taken, a very dapper man with a pointed blond beard, who turned out to be a tailor called in by Madame; and he, in accordance with Madame's instructions, had brought a suit with him. ‘For you can't go about like that any longer, Henri.'

The new suit was, strangely, a perfect fit.

‘Madame has certainly the French eye for style.'

But the real suits were yet to come, made to measure, of course, and from English materials … Together with a winter overcoat, an ulster.

Pale and without a word Heinz stood there and raised his arms as requested, so that the gentleman in the cutaway coat could take his measurements … This is the depth of ignominy, he thought, to let myself be clothed by Erich's mistress, with Erich's money.

But it was only the beginning of ignominy.

And more tormenting even than this dishonour was the sense of his own cowardice in not daring to quarrel with Tinette in front of the tailor. Or he could quite simply have refused to be measured by the man. Instead, he submissively made his choice between wide or narrow lapels, between single or double-breasted … After which the tailor took his leave. He really did have a pearl in his tie, and he really did kiss the lady's hand, but only shook his, promising delivery as soon as possible.

For a moment the two of them looked at him going without saying a word. Then Tinette in her sweetest voice said that Henri should pick up his suit and come with her. They were sure to find a suitable shirt in Erich's room …

Whereupon Heinz suddenly shouted that he wouldn't dream of it, and she as suddenly screamed that she didn't want some scrubby, dowdy-looking fellow near her. And there was an outcry about my money and his money and her money and about personal tidiness and idealism and materialism and daintiness, and about the justifiable right of beautiful women to be accompanied by young, well-dressed gentlemen … It seemed as if the quarrel would never come to an end, but end it did when Tinette called out in a voice of
intense surprise: ‘Henri, oh dear! I believe my shoe's come undone! Do help me!' And, looking helplessly at him, she put a foot clad in grey suede on a chair.

In the midst of all the shouting, he suddenly broke off and stared, stunned, at her little foot. She looked at him helplessly and he took it in his hand. However, the strap wouldn't reach, and he couldn't get the hole over the button. The foot, which seemed more naked than naked in its thin, blue-grey silk stocking, was so close to him! Its shoe was styled so that he could just see the beginnings of her toes. He liked that … A fragrance came from this foot, a fragrance of perfume and leather, which came also from her and from all women, from eternity …

And he brought the foot to his mouth, and thought, as he heard her laughing softly over him, what profound shame, and he kissed it and kissed it …

He heard her still laughing softly and went on kissing … And he thought, I mustn't, and went on kissing. And he thought, she's just making you do what she wants you to, and he carried on kissing…

And the wave rose higher and higher.

Suddenly he thought: if I don't stop now I'll be lost for ever. And she is not worth that. For a fraction he thought of freedom, and tore his mouth from her foot, looked not at her but at the door, and stormed out of the room and out of the house, without either coat or hat.

But even in the street, he thought he could hear her laughter . .

And of course he returned, he always returned. Sometimes he stormed in, full of reproaches. At other times, covered with embarrassment, he hovered round her like some reprieved criminal, accepting gratefully every kind word she threw to him. He was quarrelsome or tender, and occasionally was overcome by a mood to tell her everything in his mind; once he sat there for many hours reading to her from his favourite poets. On another occasion he helped her to arrange some underclothing in a wardrobe, and the sight of these
utterly unfamiliar garments, with their delicate tints and texture, so confused him that he could hardly talk.