‘Don’t forget to go and register with the police on Monday. Otherwise I shall have trouble.’
THE VEIL OF MYSTERY IS RAISED: BERGMANN AND KLEINHOLZ AND WHY PINNEBERG MUST NOT BE MARRIED
They didn’t rightly know how they got back to their own place, through the dark overstuffed rooms, clutching each other’s hands like frightened children.
The room looked ghostly enough itself as they stood close to each other in the dark. Even the light seemed to have a grudging quality as though it was vying with the dimness at the old woman’s next door.
‘That was awful,’ said Lammchen, drawing a deep breath.
‘Yes,’ he said. And then, after a while he repeated, ‘Yes. She’s mad, Lammchen. Pining about her money has turned her brain.’
‘She is mad. And I …’ The couple continued to clutch each other in the dark. ‘I’ve got to be here all day on my own and she can come in whenever she likes! No! No!’
‘Calm down, Lammchen. The other day she was quite different. Perhaps this was just the once.’
‘Young people …’ repeated Lammchen. ‘It was so ugly the way she said it, as if she had some secret we couldn’t know about. Oh, Sonny, Sonny, I don’t want to end up like her! I couldn’t be like her, could I?! I’m frightened.’
‘You’re Lammchen,’ he said, and took her in his arms. She was so helpless; so tall and yet so helpless, and coming to him for protection. ‘You’re Lammchen and you’ll stay Lammchen. How couldyou ever be like old Mrs Scharrenhofer?’
‘You’re right. And it wouldn’t be good for the Shrimp for me to live here. He shouldn’t have anything to be frightened of; he needs a happy mother to be happy himself.’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said, and stroked her and rocked her. ‘Things will look after themselves; it’ll turn out all right.’
‘You say that. But you haven’t promised me that we’re going to move out. At once!’
‘But how can we? Have we got the money to pay for two flats for a month and a half?’
‘Oh, money!’ said she. ‘So I have to be frightened and the Shrimp stunted, all because of a bit of money!’
‘Money,’ he said. ‘Wicked money, lovely money.’
He rocked her back and forth in his arms. He suddenly felt old and clever, and things that mattered once didn’t matter any more. He could afford to be honest with her. ‘I’m not particularly gifted at anything, Lammchen,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to rise very far. We’re always going to have to struggle for money.’
‘Oh you,’ she said, in a sing-song voice, ‘You.’
The white curtains moved gently against the windows in the wind. A soft light radiated through the room. An enchantment drew them towards the open window, arm in arm, and they leaned out.
The countryside was bathed in moonlight. Far to the right there was a tiny flickering dot of light; the last gas-lamp on Feldstrasse. But before them lay the countryside, beautifully divided up into patches of friendly brightness, and deep soft shade where the trees stood. It was so quiet that even up here they could hear the Strela rippling over the stones. And the night wind blew very gently on their foreheads.
‘How beautiful it is,’ she said. ‘How peaceful!’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It does you good. Just breathe in the air, it’s not like your air in Platz.’
‘My air in Platz! I’m not in Platz any more. I don’t belong there any more. I’m in Green End, with Widow Scharrenhofer.’
‘With her? No one else?’
‘No one else …’
‘Shall we go downstairs again?’
‘Not now, Sonny, let’s lie here a bit longer. I’ve got something to ask you.’
‘Here it comes,’ he thought.
But she didn’t ask. She lay there in the window, the wind moving the fair hair on her forehead, laying it now this way, now that. He watched it.
‘So peaceful …’ said Lammchen.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Come to bed, Lammchen.’
‘Shan’t we stay up a little longer? We can lie in tomorrow as it’s
THE VEIL OF MYSTERY IS RAISED: BERGMANN AND KLEINHOLZ AND WHY PINNEBERG MUST NOT BE MARRIED
They didn’t rightly know how they got back to their own place, through the dark overstuffed rooms, clutching each other’s hands like frightened children.
The room looked ghostly enough itself as they stood close to each other in the dark. Even the light seemed to have a grudging quality as though it was vying with the dimness at the old woman’s next door.
‘That was awful,’ said Lammchen, drawing a deep breath.
‘Yes,’ he said. And then, after a while he repeated, ‘Yes. She’s mad, Lammchen. Pining about her money has turned her brain.’
‘She is mad. And I …’ The couple continued to clutch each other in the dark. ‘I’ve got to be here all day on my own and she can come in whenever she likes! No! No!’
‘Calm down, Lammchen. The other day she was quite different. Perhaps this was just the once.’
‘Young people …’ repeated Lammchen. ‘It was so ugly the way she said it, as if she had some secret we couldn’t know about. Oh, Sonny, Sonny, I don’t want to end up like her! I couldn’t be like her, could I?! I’m frightened.’
‘You’re Lammchen,’ he said, and took her in his arms. She was so helpless; so tall and yet so helpless, and coming to him for protection. ‘You’re Lammchen and you’ll stay Lammchen. How couldyou ever be like old Mrs Scharrenhofer?’
‘You’re right. And it wouldn’t be good for the Shrimp for me to live here. He shouldn’t have anything to be frightened of; he needs a happy mother to be happy himself.’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said, and stroked her and rocked her. ‘Things will look after themselves; it’ll turn out all right.’
‘You say that. But you haven’t promised me that we’re going to move out. At once!’
‘But how can we? Have we got the money to pay for two flats for a month and a half?’
‘Oh, money!’ said she. ‘So I have to be frightened and the Shrimp stunted, all because of a bit of money!’
‘Money,’ he said. ‘Wicked money, lovely money.’
He rocked her back and forth in his arms. He suddenly felt old and clever, and things that mattered once didn’t matter any more. He could afford to be honest with her. ‘I’m not particularly gifted at anything, Lammchen,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to rise very far. We’re always going to have to struggle for money.’
‘Oh you,’ she said, in a sing-song voice, ‘You.’
The white curtains moved gently against the windows in the wind. A soft light radiated through the room. An enchantment drew them towards the open window, arm in arm, and they leaned out.
The countryside was bathed in moonlight. Far to the right there was a tiny flickering dot of light; the last gas-lamp on Feldstrasse. But before them lay the countryside, beautifully divided up into patches of friendly brightness, and deep soft shade where the trees stood. It was so quiet that even up here they could hear the Strela rippling over the stones. And the night wind blew very gently on their foreheads.
‘How beautiful it is,’ she said. ‘How peaceful!’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It does you good. Just breathe in the air, it’s not like your air in Platz.’
‘My air in Platz! I’m not in Platz any more. I don’t belong there any more. I’m in Green End, with Widow Scharrenhofer.’
‘With her? No one else?’
‘No one else …’
‘Shall we go downstairs again?’
‘Not now, Sonny, let’s lie here a bit longer. I’ve got something to ask you.’
‘Here it comes,’ he thought.
But she didn’t ask. She lay there in the window, the wind moving the fair hair on her forehead, laying it now this way, now that. He watched it.
‘So peaceful …’ said Lammchen.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Come to bed, Lammchen.’
‘Shan’t we stay up a little longer? We can lie in tomorrow as it’s
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