works of various other distinguished authors,” said Papa, “such as Einstein, Freud, H. G. Wells...”
Onkel Julius shook his head at the madness of it all.
“Thank heavens you didn’t take my advice,” he said. “Thank heavens you left when you did. But of course,” he added, “this situation in Germany can’t go on much longer!”
Over lunch in the garden he told them the news. Heimpi had found a job with another family. It had been difficult because when people heard that she had worked for Papa they did not want to employ her. But it was not a bad job considering. Their house was still empty. Nobody had bought it yet.
It was strange, thought Anna, that Onkel Julius could go and look at it any time he liked. He could walk down the street from the paper shop at the corner and stand outside the white painted gate. The shutters would be closed but if he had a key Onkel Julius would be able to go through the front door into the dark hall, up the stairs to the nursery, or across into the drawing room, or along the passage to Heimpi’s pantry ... Anna remembered it all so dearly, and in her mind she walked right through the house from top to bottom while Onkel Julius went on talking to Mama and Papa.
“How are things with you?” he asked. “Are you able to write here?”
Papa raised an eyebrow. “I have no difficulty in writing,” he said, “only in getting my work published.”
“Impossible!” said Onkel Julius.
“Unfortunately not,” said Papa. “It seems the Swiss are so anxious to protect their neutrality that they are frightened of publishing anything by an avowed anti-Nazi like myself.”
Onkel Julius looked shocked.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “I mean—financially?”
“We manage,” said Papa. “Anyway, I’m trying to make them change their mind.”
Then they began to talk about mutual friends. It sounded as though they were going through a long list of names. Somebody had been arrested by the Nazis. Somebody else had escaped and was going to America. Another person had compromised (what was “compromised” wondered Anna) and had written an article in praise of the new regime. The list went on and on. All grown-up conversations were like this nowadays, thought Anna, while little waves lapped against the edge of the lake and bees buzzed in the chestnut trees.
In the afternoon they showed Onkel Julius round. Anna and Max took him up into the woods and he was very interested to discover a special kind of toad that he had never seen before. Later they all went for a row on the lake in a hired boat. Then they had supper together, and at last it was time for Onkel Julius to leave.
“I miss our outings to the Zoo,” he said as he kissed Anna.
“So do I!” said Anna. “I liked the monkeys best.”
“I’ll send you a picture of one,” said Onkel Julius.
They walked down to the landing stage together.
While they were waiting for the steamer Papa suddenly said, “Julius—don’t go back. Stay here with us. You won’t be safe in Germany.”
“What—me?” said Onkel Julius in his high voice. “Who’s going to bother about me? I’m only interested in animals. I’m not political. I’m not even Jewish unless you count my poor old grandmother!”
“Julius, you don’t understand ...” said Papa.
“The situation is bound to change,” said Onkel Julius, and there was the steamer puffing towards them. “Good-bye old friend!” He embraced Papa and Mama and both children.
As he walked across the gangplank he turned back for a moment.
“Anyway,” he said, “the monkeys at the Zoo would miss me!”
Chapter Seven
As Anna went on attending the village school she liked it more and more. She made friends with other girls apart from Vreneli, and especially with Roesli who sat next to her in class and was a little less sedate than the rest. The lessons were so easy that she was able to shine without any effort, and though Herr Graupe was not a very good
Onkel Julius shook his head at the madness of it all.
“Thank heavens you didn’t take my advice,” he said. “Thank heavens you left when you did. But of course,” he added, “this situation in Germany can’t go on much longer!”
Over lunch in the garden he told them the news. Heimpi had found a job with another family. It had been difficult because when people heard that she had worked for Papa they did not want to employ her. But it was not a bad job considering. Their house was still empty. Nobody had bought it yet.
It was strange, thought Anna, that Onkel Julius could go and look at it any time he liked. He could walk down the street from the paper shop at the corner and stand outside the white painted gate. The shutters would be closed but if he had a key Onkel Julius would be able to go through the front door into the dark hall, up the stairs to the nursery, or across into the drawing room, or along the passage to Heimpi’s pantry ... Anna remembered it all so dearly, and in her mind she walked right through the house from top to bottom while Onkel Julius went on talking to Mama and Papa.
“How are things with you?” he asked. “Are you able to write here?”
Papa raised an eyebrow. “I have no difficulty in writing,” he said, “only in getting my work published.”
“Impossible!” said Onkel Julius.
“Unfortunately not,” said Papa. “It seems the Swiss are so anxious to protect their neutrality that they are frightened of publishing anything by an avowed anti-Nazi like myself.”
Onkel Julius looked shocked.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “I mean—financially?”
“We manage,” said Papa. “Anyway, I’m trying to make them change their mind.”
Then they began to talk about mutual friends. It sounded as though they were going through a long list of names. Somebody had been arrested by the Nazis. Somebody else had escaped and was going to America. Another person had compromised (what was “compromised” wondered Anna) and had written an article in praise of the new regime. The list went on and on. All grown-up conversations were like this nowadays, thought Anna, while little waves lapped against the edge of the lake and bees buzzed in the chestnut trees.
In the afternoon they showed Onkel Julius round. Anna and Max took him up into the woods and he was very interested to discover a special kind of toad that he had never seen before. Later they all went for a row on the lake in a hired boat. Then they had supper together, and at last it was time for Onkel Julius to leave.
“I miss our outings to the Zoo,” he said as he kissed Anna.
“So do I!” said Anna. “I liked the monkeys best.”
“I’ll send you a picture of one,” said Onkel Julius.
They walked down to the landing stage together.
While they were waiting for the steamer Papa suddenly said, “Julius—don’t go back. Stay here with us. You won’t be safe in Germany.”
“What—me?” said Onkel Julius in his high voice. “Who’s going to bother about me? I’m only interested in animals. I’m not political. I’m not even Jewish unless you count my poor old grandmother!”
“Julius, you don’t understand ...” said Papa.
“The situation is bound to change,” said Onkel Julius, and there was the steamer puffing towards them. “Good-bye old friend!” He embraced Papa and Mama and both children.
As he walked across the gangplank he turned back for a moment.
“Anyway,” he said, “the monkeys at the Zoo would miss me!”
Chapter Seven
As Anna went on attending the village school she liked it more and more. She made friends with other girls apart from Vreneli, and especially with Roesli who sat next to her in class and was a little less sedate than the rest. The lessons were so easy that she was able to shine without any effort, and though Herr Graupe was not a very good
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