"One more?" I asked.
"I won't say no."
She got another big glassful, then she said good-bye.
"All the best in Bunzlau," said I.
"Yes, thanks very much.
But it's funny, isn't it, nobody knows it, eh?"
She waddled out.
We stood around a while longer in the workshop,
"We might as well go too, I suppose," said Koster.
"Yes," I replied. "There's nothing more to do here."
We locked the door and went out. Then we fetched Karl.
He was in a garage near by and had not been sold with the rest.
We drove to the bank and Koster paid in the money to the Receivers.
"I'm going to have a sleep now," said he. "Will you be free after?"
"I've taken the whole evening off to-day."
"Good, then I'll be along at eight."
We ate in a little pub in the country and then drove in again.
As we arrived at the first streets one of the front tyres punctured.
We changed the wheel.
Karl hadn't been washed for a long time and I got pretty dirty.
"I must just have a wash, Otto," said I.
Near by was a rather large Cafe.
We went in and sat at a table by the entrance.
To our surprise the place was almost completely full.
A woman's band was playing and there was great activity; the orchestra had coloured paper caps, some of the guests were in fancy dress, paper stream^ ers flew from table to table, balloons ascended, waiters ran to and fro with trays piled high and the entire place was filled with movement, laughter and noise.
"What's on here, then?" asked Koster.
A fair girl alongside us showered us with a cloud of confetti.
"Where do you come from?" she laughed. "Don't you know it's Shrove Tuesday?"
"Ach, so," said I. "In that case I guess I'll wash my hands."
I had to cross the entire room to get to the lavatory.
For a while I was held up by some people who were drunk and trying to hoist a woman on to a table to make her sing.
The woman resisted, shrieking; the table fell over, and with the table the whole party.
I was waiting for the gangway to clear, when suddenly it was as if I had received an electric shock.
I stood there stiff and rigid; the restaurant sank; the noise, the music, nothing remained, only indistinct moving shadows were there; but distinct, monstrously sharp and clear, remained one table, and at the table a young fellow with a fool's cap awry on his head, one arm about a half-tipsy girl, glassy stupid eyes, very thin lips, and under the table bright yellow, loud, highly polished leather leggings.
A waiter bumped into me.
Drunkenly I moved on and stopped again.
I was burning hot, yet my whole body trembled. My hands were dripping wet.
And now I saw the others at the table.
I heard them singing in chorus with defiant faces some song or other and beating time on the table with their beer glasses.
Again someone bumped into me.
"Don't block, up the passage," he growled.
I walked on mechanically, I found the lavatory, I washed my hands and only realised it when I had almost boiled the skin off.
Then I went back.
"What's the matter?" asked Koster.
I could not answer.
"Are you ill?" he asked.
I shook my head and looked at the table alongside where the fair girl was still eyeing us.
Suddenly Koster turned pale.
His eyes narrowed.
He leaned forward.