"How do you mean, like a damned fool?"
"Well, as if one were half-tight.
Skite and blather and swindle."
Lenz burst out laughing.
"My dear baby!
The whole thing is a swindle.
A wonderful swindle by Mama Nature.
Look at the plum tree, for instance.
Making herself more beautiful than she will be afterwards.
It would be just terrible if love had any truck with truth.
Thank God the damned moralists can't get everything under their thumbs."
I sat up.
"You mean, without some swindle it just wouldn't go at all."
"Absolutely not, my child."
"A man' can make himself damned ridiculous though," said I.
Lenz grinned.
"Mark this one thing, my boy: never, never, never can a man make himself ridiculous in the eyes of a woman by anything he may do on her account.
Not even by the most childish performances.
Do anything you like—stand on your head, talk the most utter twaddle, swank like a peacock, sing under her window—anything at all but one thing: don't be matter-of-fact.
Don't be sensible."
I began to brighten.
"What do you think, Otto?"
Koster laughed.
"He's probably right."
He got up, went over to Karl and put up the bonnet.
I .fetched the rum bottle and a glass and put them on the table.
Otto switched on the car.
The engine purred, deep and strong.
Lenz had his feet up on the window ledge and was staring out into the night.
I drew up beside him.
"Were you ever drunk when you were with a woman?"
"Often," he replied without stirring.
"And?"
He looked at me sideways.
"You mean, and then mixed things up a bit?
Never apologise.
Never talk.
Send flowers.
No letter.
Only flowers.
They cover up everything.
Even graves."
I looked at him.
He did not stir.
His eyes glittered in the reflection of the white light outside.
The engine was still running, softly growling, as if the earth beneath us were quaking.
"Well, I guess I might as well have a drop," said I and opened the bottle.
Koster switched off the engine.
Then he turned to Lenz.
"The moon's bright enough now to be able to find a glass, Gottfried.