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Authors: Wolfgang Koeppen
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be careful not to offend her. He replied [and once more his heart was in the grip of another's hand] : "I hardly know him." And then, as the silence thickened in the room, and to take a little of the importance out of the subject (which irked him), he added: "I'm sorry, I'm not really interested in Fedor. I assume you've become friends, which I can understand in the situation you're both in, but I'm sure it'll pass."
To which she nodded, and said: "It's so stupid, you know he's like a child."
Friedrich was aghast when he heard that. An abyss opened at his feet. It was what he'd been terrified of. But he didn't want to jump into it. Not yet. He struggled for the self-mastery of the indifferent traveler, the man merely passing through. He said: "Well, never mind, that's not what's important," which was pretty stupid of him; and then came another question, in a voice that tried to mask the fact that it was shaking and slightly deranged: "And who do you love?"
"Who do I love? How can you ask?" She looked earnest and sure of herself and perhaps a little indignant: "I only love Bosporus, you know that!"
Friedrich made a feeble gesture of agreement and recognition. Bosporus was an officer who had been with the German troops in Turkey, and following the armistice, as they were returning through the Ukraine, had had his knee shattered by a bullet while he was perched on front of the locomotive, his rifle ready. "What about Doctor Magnus?" This question wasn't from Friedrich, it was just his voice, which had made itself independent of him, and to his own horror, put such a question.
"Magnus? I'm fond of him."
At that moment, there was a knock, and Fedor walked in. Friedrich had difficulty concealing his astonishment. So there was a Doctor Magnus, he must be alive for Sibylle to be fond of him, the plaque in the dining room over the buffet was more than just some dusty relic, this foundation for refugees from all countries, and this house, there was something in it, it was alchemy, and he, as if he hadn't sensed it already, had blundered into it! Fedor too was unchanged from the previous evening. He was in his sweater, as though determined he would greet the world always just like that. He kissed Sibylle's hand and shook Friedrich's firmly, like a friend. "How did you sleep?"
The question was directed at Friedrich, and Friedrich nodded: "Fine." What else was he supposed to say? Fedor simply expected that Friedrich would have slept well, that was a given, it was really the least you could expect if someone was staying at the Grand Hotel on the lake. Fedor was doing turns. He climbed onto the bedframe and balanced on top of it. Quite agile, but Friedrich thought: What do I do if he falls on to the bed? He wondered whether he would be able to endure that. But Fedor didn't fall, he vaulted back on the floor, and opened a little box of chocolates on the bedside table.
"They're from Magnus," said Sibylle. It was a request to him not to touch them. But Fedor was unable to hear that. He was insouciant [Sibylle called him naive] and he stuffed his mouth full of chocolates, and then he offered the box to Friedrich. Friedrich didn't feel like chocolate, but he didn't want to admit to himself that he was furious with Fedor for having failed to understand Sibylle's unspoken request; he helped himself to some of the chocolates, to make himself Fedor's accomplice. "You're behaving like swine," she screamed.
Fedor looked amazed: "What do you mean?"
Friedrich knew, and he felt sorry for Sibylle. It wasn't the chocolates, it was the breach of her prerogative that offended her. She always lived ringed by invisible pastures where no one was allowed to set foot. Why not do her the kindness, and agree to respect her boundaries? And, for the second time that morning, Friedrich felt like saying: "Little Sibylle."
But she had had enough of being at a physical disadvantage, the person lying in bed among others upright and dressed, and brusquely she
To which she nodded, and said: "It's so stupid, you know he's like a child."
Friedrich was aghast when he heard that. An abyss opened at his feet. It was what he'd been terrified of. But he didn't want to jump into it. Not yet. He struggled for the self-mastery of the indifferent traveler, the man merely passing through. He said: "Well, never mind, that's not what's important," which was pretty stupid of him; and then came another question, in a voice that tried to mask the fact that it was shaking and slightly deranged: "And who do you love?"
"Who do I love? How can you ask?" She looked earnest and sure of herself and perhaps a little indignant: "I only love Bosporus, you know that!"
Friedrich made a feeble gesture of agreement and recognition. Bosporus was an officer who had been with the German troops in Turkey, and following the armistice, as they were returning through the Ukraine, had had his knee shattered by a bullet while he was perched on front of the locomotive, his rifle ready. "What about Doctor Magnus?" This question wasn't from Friedrich, it was just his voice, which had made itself independent of him, and to his own horror, put such a question.
"Magnus? I'm fond of him."
At that moment, there was a knock, and Fedor walked in. Friedrich had difficulty concealing his astonishment. So there was a Doctor Magnus, he must be alive for Sibylle to be fond of him, the plaque in the dining room over the buffet was more than just some dusty relic, this foundation for refugees from all countries, and this house, there was something in it, it was alchemy, and he, as if he hadn't sensed it already, had blundered into it! Fedor too was unchanged from the previous evening. He was in his sweater, as though determined he would greet the world always just like that. He kissed Sibylle's hand and shook Friedrich's firmly, like a friend. "How did you sleep?"
The question was directed at Friedrich, and Friedrich nodded: "Fine." What else was he supposed to say? Fedor simply expected that Friedrich would have slept well, that was a given, it was really the least you could expect if someone was staying at the Grand Hotel on the lake. Fedor was doing turns. He climbed onto the bedframe and balanced on top of it. Quite agile, but Friedrich thought: What do I do if he falls on to the bed? He wondered whether he would be able to endure that. But Fedor didn't fall, he vaulted back on the floor, and opened a little box of chocolates on the bedside table.
"They're from Magnus," said Sibylle. It was a request to him not to touch them. But Fedor was unable to hear that. He was insouciant [Sibylle called him naive] and he stuffed his mouth full of chocolates, and then he offered the box to Friedrich. Friedrich didn't feel like chocolate, but he didn't want to admit to himself that he was furious with Fedor for having failed to understand Sibylle's unspoken request; he helped himself to some of the chocolates, to make himself Fedor's accomplice. "You're behaving like swine," she screamed.
Fedor looked amazed: "What do you mean?"
Friedrich knew, and he felt sorry for Sibylle. It wasn't the chocolates, it was the breach of her prerogative that offended her. She always lived ringed by invisible pastures where no one was allowed to set foot. Why not do her the kindness, and agree to respect her boundaries? And, for the second time that morning, Friedrich felt like saying: "Little Sibylle."
But she had had enough of being at a physical disadvantage, the person lying in bed among others upright and dressed, and brusquely she
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