Read Online Iron Gustav by Hans Fallada - Free Book Online Page A

conscious. She didn’t even hear what she cried out. But her martyred heart suffered, and she danced a kind of grotesque dance of pain. And when Otto and Rabause in alarm rushed down the stairs, demanding anxiously: ‘What’s the matter?’ she pointed and screamed: ‘He’s hanging himself, he’s hanging himself!’
    Oh, but life is so complicated! If Frau Auguste had been a little more aware of what she was doing, more alert and intelligent, one might have thought she was acting like this so that the men should break open the cellar door and allow her to reach her goal and not founder on a mere lock. For her weeping and panic prevented all questioning. Without a word the men worked away at the lock while she stood beside them moaning and imploring: ‘Be quick, he’s doing it now!’
    But Frau Auguste Hackendahl was not clever enough to contrive and carry out such a plan. She was genuinely terrified, genuinely in fear, and she herself was the most surprised of all when she saw, after the second door had been prised open, Erich sitting calmly on his box eating his hunk of bread.
    ‘I thought …’ she stammered, and said no more.
    No. No more hanging. But because she had inadvertently achieved her aim, she was overcome by a feeling of happiness. She leaned against the door, looked at her son through half-closed eyes and murmured, ‘It’s all right, Erich.’
    The three liberators looked at the prisoner. Seeing him so calm, they felt almost ashamed of their agitation.
    ‘You’re marvellously brave, you three,’ said Erich, rising and stretching. ‘You, Otto, the model son! Father’ll be very upset indeed. And old honest Rabause! Well, Father will sack you at once. And Mother – well, Mother …’ But at this even he, so cold-blooded, felt a little ashamed.
    All were silent. (It is curious. This seventeen-year-old wretch behaves as if he’s had far more experience of life than any of you – as
if he’s the eldest and not the youngest. And they all accept it!) ‘Well, and what have you got for the prodigal son?’ began Erich again. ‘Or has Father already gone to fetch the fatted calf for the merry feast?’
    Rabause was the first to have enough of it. ‘There’s no time to lose, Erich; the chief will be back any minute. And I know who’ll come down a peg or two then,’ and he went.
    Erich gave a forced laugh. ‘Well, Mother, what’s to be done? You haven’t been so silly, surely, as to get me out without having something ready – money, clothes?’
    They were both silent. Yes, they had been so silly. They had completely disregarded their brother Erich’s cold-bloodedness.
    ‘Mother thought you were doing yourself in,’ muttered Otto.
    Erich was dumbfounded. ‘Doing myself in? But why? Because of this nonsense? Because of a few minutes in a cellar and eighty marks? You’re loony!’
    ‘Not because of the eighty marks,’ said Otto.
    ‘Oh, you mean the dishonour and disgrace and so on. What does Father’s honour and disgrace matter to me? Nothing! I have my own views about honour; what I mean is, I don’t acknowledge dishonour. If one’s a progressive …’
    Nevertheless he became a little confused in spite of his youthful self-assurance and therefore looked angrily at them. ‘So you’ve got hold of nothing for me? All right, I’ll have to look after myself – as usual.’ And he passed them by without another word and went upstairs.
    Mother and son glanced at each other, then looked away like conspirators plagued by guilt. Sitting down on the box, she picked up the rest of the bread and, as if to console herself for her defeat, remarked: ‘Now he won’t have to eat dry bread.’ But as she said it another and very distressing thought occurred to her, extinguishing every spark of consolation. ‘And what will he do now?’ she faltered.
    Otto shrugged, perhaps entertaining the same thought as his mother. He looked at the ceiling, as if he could see through it, up into the