Now I did begin to perceive that it really was a remarkable child; its lungs must reach down to its knees, otherwise this shattering voice was not to be explained.
I was in a difficult situation; while with my eyes I. was shooting angry glances at the mother complex before me, with my lips I was endeavouring to speak friendly words into the mouthpiece; from the crown of my head to the tip of my nose I was a thunderstorm incarnate, from the nose to the chin a sunny spring landscape; it is a mystery to me that in spite of everything I did contrive to fix an appointment for the next evening.
"You ought to install a soundproof telephone box," said I to Frau Zalewski.
But she was ready for me.
"Why so?" she flashed back. "Have you so much to conceal?"
I said no more and made off.
It is no use quarrelling with excited maternal instincts.
They have the moral support of the entire world behind them.
We were to forgather that evening at Gottfried's.
I had supper at a small pub and then went along.
En route, by way of celebration, I bought myself a magnificent new tie at a smart outfitter's.
I could not get over my susprise about how smoothly it had all gone, and I warned myself that to-morrow I must be as serious as the managing director of a burial club.
Gottfried's digs were a sight worth seeing.
They were hung with souvenirs that he had brought back from South America.
Gay raffia mats on the walls, several masks, a dried human head, grotesque pots, spears and, as piece de resistance, an enormous collection of photographs that occupied one entire wall: Indian girls and Creoles—lovely, brown, lithe creatures of incredible grace and nonchalance.
Besides Lenz and Koster there were Braumuller and Grau.
Oscar Braumuller, with sunburnt, copper head, was squatting on the arm of the sofa enthusiastically examining Gottfried's photographs.
He was racer for a firm of car manufacturers, and had long been friends with Koster.
He was driving in the race on the sixth, for which Otto had entered Karl.
Massive, bloated and already fairly drunk, Ferdinand Grau was sitting at the table.
As he caught sight of me he reached out his great paw.
"Bob," said he in a thick voice, "what do you want here among the damned?
There is nothing here for you.
Go away.
Save yourself.
While there is time."
I glanced across at Lenz.
He winked at me.
"Ferdinand is in high form.
For two days now he has been drinking to the beloved dead.
He has sold a portrait and got the money."
Ferdinand was a painter.
And he would have starved long since, had he not had a specialty.
He painted after photographs marvellously lifelike portraits of deceased persons, for pious relatives.
He lived by it—quite well, in fact.
His landscapes, which were excellent, nobody bought.
This gave to his conversation a somewhat pessimistic tone.
"A licensed victualler this time, Bob," said he; "a pub keeper with a rich deceased aunt in vinegar and oil." He shuddered. "Horrible."
"Look here, Ferdinand," protested Lenz, "you oughtn't to use those harsh expressions.
You live off one of the most beautiful of human traits, off piety."
"Nonsense," declared Ferdinand, "I live off the sense of guilt.
What's piety but the sense of guilt?
People want to square off all the things they have wished and done to the beloved dead while they were alive." He passed his hand slowly over his burning brow. "Just think how often my licensed victualler has wished his aunt in her grave! To make up, he now has her painted in the finest colours and hung above his sofa.
He likes her better that way.
Piety I Mankind remembers its few meagre good qualities only when it is too late.
And then he comforts himself by thinking how very nasty he could have been, and counts it for righteousness.
Virtue, kindliness, generosity—he desires that in others so that he can impose on them."
Lenz grinned.
"You are attacking the pillars of human society, Ferdinand."
"The pillars of human society are covetousness, fear, and corruption," retorted Grau. "Man is evil, but loves the good—when others do it." He held out his glass to Lenz. "So, and now pour me one and don't talk the whole evening. Let someone else get a word in."