It’s eight o’clock. He pulls out his flashlight, they are on their way back to the hotel, we’ve left the woods behind, the little birds, the little birds, ah, how sweetly they were singing. He begins to tremble. That was a strangely silent road. He’s got good eyes. He walks peacefully beside her. The tinner’s waiting, all alone on the terrace. “Got the rooms?” Reinhold looks around for Mieze; she’s gone. “Where’s the lady?” “Gone to her room.” He knocks. “The lady has given orders, she’s gone to bed.”
He’s trembling now. How lovely that was. The dark wood, the birds. What’m I after with that girl? Franz certainly has a fine girl. I’d like to have her. Reinhold is sitting on the terrace with Karl. They are smoking thick cigars. They smile at each other. Why should we stay here, anyway? We might as well sleep at home. Reinhold is breathing deeply, slowly, slowly drawing at his fragrant weed, the dark wood, we walk around in a circle, she leads me back again. “If you wanta, Karl. I’ll stay here tonight.”
And then they tramp together to the edge of the wood, and sit there, watching the autos pass. There are lots of trees in this wood, the ground is soft to walk on, lots of people are wandering arm-in-arm, I certainly am a dirty bastard.
Saturday, September 1st
That was Wednesday, August 29, 1928.
Three days later everything repeats itself. The tinner comes with a car, Mieze - didn’t Mieze just say yes right away when he asked her if she wanted to go out to Freienwalde again, and Reinhold would like to come along, too. I’ll be stronger this time, she thinks, as she takes her seat in the car, I won’t go into the woods with him. She said yes right away, for Franz has been very sad these last few days, but he don’t say why, and I must know why, I must get at the bottom of that. He has plenty of money from me, he has everything in fact, he lacks for nothing, I wonder what is worrying him.
Reinhold is sitting in the car beside her, and right away puts his arm around her waist. Everything has been well thought out. Today you’re gonna ride away from your beloved Franz for the last time, today you’re gonna stay with me, as long as I want you to. You’re the five-hundredth or the thousandth woman I’ve had, everything went fine and in apple-pie order up till now, it’ll all go well again. She sits there and doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but I know it, and that’s all right.
At Freienwalde they leave the car in front of the inn, Karl Matter goes walking alone with Mieze through Freienwalde, it is Saturday, September 1st, and four o’clock. Reinhold would like to sleep another hour in the inn. After six Reinhold comes creeping out, tinkers a bit with the auto, then swills a coupla drinks and goes off.
Mieze feels happy in the woods. Karl is so nice and has heaps to talk about, he has taken out a patent, but the firm where he works pinched it from him, that’s the way employees get cheated, they have to agree to that in advance, in writing; so thanks to the patent the firm became millionaires, he only works with Pums because he’s inventing a new model now, which will completely cut out the one the firm stole from him. A model like that costs a lot of money. He can’t give it away to Mieze, it’s a huge secret, but everything in the world will be changed if it comes off, all the street-cars, fire-engines, garbage disposal, everything, it can be adapted to everything, anything at all. They tell each other stories about their auto trip to the masked ball, how the oak trees whizzed by, along the road, I give you 128 days of the year, each with its morning, noon, and night.
“Yoo-hoo, yoo-hoo,” Reinhold calls across the wood. That’s Reinhold. They answer: “Yoo-hoo, yoo-hoo.” Karl goes and hides, but Mieze grows more serious when Reinhold comes up.
The two cops in blue got up from the stone. And they said that their investigation had been futile and without results, there’s nothing to be done, only unimportant things happen here, all we can do is to give a written report to the authorities. And if something should happen, well, we’ll read about it anyway, it’ll be on the poster column.
But in the woods Mieze and Reinhold are walking alone, a few little birds chirp and twitter softly. Overhead the tree-tops begin to sing. First one tree sang, and then another tree, then they sang together, then they were silent again, and then they sang above the heads of the two. There is a mower, death yclept, has power which the Lord has kept. When he ‘gins his knife to whet, keener it grows and keener yet.
“Oh, I’m glad, really glad, to be back again in Freienwalde, Reinhold. You know, day before yesterday, it was pretty wasn’t it, really pretty.” “Only a bit too short, Fraulein. You musta been tired, I knocked at your door, but ye didn’t open it.” “The air stings my skin, and then that ride and everything.” “Well, wasn’t it just a bit nice, though?” “Certainly, what do you mean?” “I just mean, when you go for a walk like that, and with such a pretty little young lady.” “Pretty young lady, now stop your joshin’. Do I say pretty gentleman?” “Well, the fact that you go walkin’ with me-” “What about it?” “Well, I imagine there ain’t much in a fellow like me. That you should go walking with me, Fraulein, you can believe me, it gives me really a lotta pleasure.” He’s a lamb. “Haven’t you got a girlfriend?” “Girl-friend, what’s a girl-friend nowadays?” “Oh, well.” “Yep. There’s all kinds of ‘em. You don’t know anything about that, Fraulein. You got a friend there who’s straight, and he does something for you. But a girl, she just wants to amuse herself, and as for her heart-why, she ain’t got any.” “You certainly must be outa lucie” “You see, Fraulein, that’s how all that-well, that business of exchanging dames came up. But you don’t want to hear nothin’ about that, do you?” “Oh, go on, what was that, anyway?” “I can tell you exactly what it was, and you’ll understand it then. Can a fellow keep a dame longer than a coupla months or a coupla weeks when she ain’t worth nothin’? Well, supposin’ she flops around, or she ain’t worth nothin’, don’t understand nothin’, gets mixed up in everything, or boozes, maybe?” “Why, that’s rotten.” “Y’see, Mieze, that’s what happened to me. That’s the way things happen to a feller. Just a lotta trash, rubbish, filth. It all come outa the garbage-can. Would you like to be married to somethin’ like that? Well, not me, not for a single hour. And so a fellow stands it for a little while, a coupla weeks, maybe, and then it simply don’t go any more, she’s just got to get out, and there I am again, ‘taint nice. But it’s nice here.” “I suppose there’s a little variety in it too, ain’t there?” Reinhold laughs: “Whatcha mean, Mieze?” “Well, well, you probably like a change, too, once in a while, eh?” “Well, why not we’re all human beings after all, ain’t we?” Laughing, they walk along arm-in-arm, it’s September 1st. The trees keep on singing. It’s one long sermon.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven; to everything its hour, to everything its year, a time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted; to everything its season, a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down and a time to build up; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep and a time to cast away; a time to rend and a time to sew, a time to keep silence, and a time to speak. To everything there is a season. Therefore I say there is nothing better than to laugh and to be happy. Better than to be happy. Happy, let us be happy. There is nothing better beneath the sun than to laugh and to be happy.
Reinhold holds Mieze’s hand, he is walking on her right what a strong arm he has! “You know Mieze, as a matter of fact I didn’t have the courage to invite you, that time, y’know when I mean.” And then we walk for half an hour and talk very little. It’s dangerous to walk so long without saying anything. But you can feel the pressure of his right arm.
Where shall I take the sweet little minx, gosh, she certainly is a very special line, I believe I’ll save that girl up for later on, a fellow’s got to enjoy life, maybe I’ll drag her into the hotel, and in the night in the night, when the moon shines bright. “Why, you’ve got your hand all covered with scars and you’re tattooed on your chest, too?” “Yep
, d’ye want to see it?” “Why did you have yourself tattooed?” “It depends where, Fraulein.” Mieze sways on his arm, sniggering: “I can guess it the feller I had before Franz, the way he had himself painted up, you wouldn’t believe it!” “It hurts, but it’s nice. You want to see it Fraulein?” He lets go her arm, quickly bares his chest shows his chest here we are. It’s an anvil with a laurel-wreath around it. “Now just you button yourself up, Reinhold.” “Have a good look at it.” There’s fire in him, blind hunger, he grabs her head and crushes her to his breast: “Kiss it you, kiss it you must kiss it.” But she does not kiss it. Her head remains there crushed beneath his hands: “Lemme go.” He releases her: “Say, don’t put on like that.” “I’ll be goin’.” The little bitch, I’ll get you yet the way that bitch talks to me. He fastens his shirt, I’ll get her yet, she’s putting on airs, hold your horses, old boy, quiet now: “Have I done anything to you, look, I’m buttoning myself up. There. Welt I suppose you’ve seen a man before, ain’t you?”
Why am I hanging around with this here fellow, he’s mussed up my hair, a regular rowdy, I guess I’ll beat it. To everything there is a season, to everything, to everything.
“Now don’t get sore, Fraulein, it just came over me, all of a sudden. Just on the spur of the moment. Y’know, there are moments like that in a man’s life.” “Y’needn’t grab my head for that.” “Don’t get sore, Mieze.” I’ll grab ye somewhere else. That wild passion sweeps over him again. All I need is to touch her. “Mieze, let’s be friends again. “ “All right, but you must behave.” “O.K.” Arm-in-arm. He smiles at her and she smiles down into the grass. “Wasn’t so bad, Mieze, now was it? We only bark, we don’t bite.” “I’m wondering what that anvil’s for, some men have a woman there, or a heart or somethin’ like that, but an anvil!” “Well, what do you think it is, Mieze?” “Nothin’. How should I know?” “That’s my coat of arms.” “An anvil?” “Yep. It’s to lay somebody on.” He grins at her. “You certainly are a pig. Mighta been better if you’d had ‘em put a bed on it.” “Nope, an anvil’s better. The anvil’s better.” “Are you a blacksmith?” “Kinda. A guy like me is everything. But you don’t quite understand about that anvil, Mieze. Nobody can come too near me, Fraulein, without there bein’ trouble right away. But you mustn’t believe I bite right away, certainly I wouldn’t bite you. We’re takin’ such a nice walk and I’d like to sit down, too, if there’s a hollow around anywhere.” “You’re all about the same, you Pums fellers, ain’t you?” “All depends, Mieze, it’s not so easy to get along with us.” “Well, and what are you guys up to, anyway?” How am I gonna get her to sit down in the hollow, there ain’t a soul about. “Gee, Mieze, you’d better ask Franz about that, he knows just as much as I do.” “But he don’t say nothin’.” “That’s fine. He’s clever. Better not say nothin’.” “He could to me!” “What do you want to know?” “What you’re up to.” “Will I get a kiss for it?” “If you tell me.”
Then he has her in his arms. That boy has a strong pair of arms. And how he can hug! To everything there is a season; a time to plant and a time to pluck up; a time to get and a time to lose. I can’t breathe. He won’t let go. It’s hot all right. Lemme go. If he does that again a couple of times, I’m done for. Gee, he’s got to tell me first, what’s the matter with Franz, what Franz really wants, and everything that’s happened and what those fellows think about it. “Now, lemme go, Reinhold.”
“All right.” He lets her go, stands there, then he falls down on the ground before her, kisses her shoes, he must be crazy, kisses her stockings, farther up, her dress, her hands, to everything a season, all the way up to her throat. She laughs, and moves her arms about excitedly: “Go away, go a way, you must be crazy.” He is on fire; they ought to give you a showerbath. He pants and coughs, he tries to bite her throat, he stammers something, but she can’t understand him. of his own accord he releases her throat, why, he’s just like a bull. His arm lies on hers, and while they walk, I he trees keep singing. “Look here, Mieze. here’s a nice little hollow place, just built for us-just look. A week-end love-nest. Somebody’s been cookin’ here. Let’s clear it up. Might get my pants dirty.” Shall I sit down now? Maybe he’ll talk better then. “Well, I don’t care. It’d be nicer 10 sit on a coat.” “Wait a minute, Mieze, I’ll take my coat off.” “That’s sweet of you.”
They are lying on a slope in a grassy hollow. She pushes a tin can away with her foot, then turns on to her belly and quickly slips her arm across his breast. So here we are. She smiles at him. When he pushes his vest off his chest and the anvil appears, she does not take her head away. “Now you’re gonna tell me something, Reinhold.” He crushes her to his breast, so here we are, fine, here’s the girl, everything’s jake, a fine kid, a humdinger. I’ll keep her a long time, and Franz can beef as much as he likes, he won’t get her back so soon as all that. Reinhold slides downwards, pulling Mieze along, presses her in his arms and kisses her mouth. He sucks himself in, not a thought in his head, only an ecstasy, a wild desire, pure savagery and that’s all there is to it, every gesture is prescribed, let none come near to impede him now! A rending, a tearing which no hurricane. no avalanche of rocks can hinder, it is the shell from a cannon, a mine exploding. All that rushes against it is shattered, thrust aside and on and on it goes, on and on.
“Oh, not so tight, Reinhold!” He makes me weak; if I don’t look out, he’ll get me. “Mieze.” He looks up blinking, but does not release her. “Well, Miezeken?” “Well, Reinhold?” “Whatcha studyin’ about me?” “Say, it’s really wicked what you’re doing to me. How long have you known Franz?” “Your Franz?” “Yes.” “Your Franz, well, is he still yours?” “Well, whose, then?” “Well, who am I?” “How d’you mean?” She wants to hide her head on his breast, but he forces it up. “Well, who am I?” She throws herself at him, presses her lips against his mouth, and he flames up again, I love him a bit too, the way he twists and burns. No flood of water, no giant firehose could extinguish that; flames are streaming out of the house, they grow from within. “So now you better let me go again.” “What do you want, girlie?” “Nothin’. To be with you.” “All right then, I’m yours too, ain’t I? Did you break with Franz?” “No.” “Did you break with him, Mieze?” “No, I’d rather you’d tell me somethin’ about him. You’ve known him for a long time.” “Can’t tell you anything about him.” “Aw, go on!” “I won’t tell you nothin’, Mieze.” He seizes her and throws her down by his side, but she wrestles with him: “No, I don’t want to.” “Don’t be such a mule, girlie.” “I wanta get up, I’m gettin’ all dirty here.” “And suppose I was to tell you somethin’ now.” “That’d be fine.” “What’ll I get for it, Mieze?” “Whatever you want.” “Everything?” “Well-we’ll see.” “Everything?” Their faces are close together, aflame. She doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure myself what I’ll do, something flashes through him, all thought gone, no thoughts, unconsciousness.
He sits up, must wipe my face off, pugh, the woods, you sure get dirty here. “I’ll tell you somethin’ about your Franz. I’ve known him a long time. You know, he’s a special kind of a bozo. We met in the Prenzlauer Allee saloon. Last winter. He was peddlin’ papers. And then he knew somebody there, Meck, that’s right. That’s where I got to know him. Then we used to meet there, and I told you somethin’ about the girls before, didn’t I?” “Is that true?” “And how! But he’s a boob, Biberkopf, that dumbbell, he can’t brag about it, it all comes from me, maybe you think it’s him that got me all them women? My God, his women! No, if he’d had his way, we’da gone to the Salvation Army, so as to mend my ways.” “But you ain’t mendin’ ‘em, are you, Reinhold?” “No, you can see that. Nothin’ doin’ with me. You got to take me the way I am. That’s as sure as you’re alive, and you can’t do nothin’ about it. But that guy, Mieze, that pimp o’ yours, that’s the guy you can change. You certainly are a pretty baby. Listen, sweetie, how can you pick up a bozo like that, with one ann, a pretty
kid like you; you can get ten on each finger if you want to.” “Ah, cut that out.” “Well, yes, love’s blind in both eyes, but that’s the limit. You know what that pimp o’ yours wants with us now? He wants to play the big guy with us. Us, of all people! First he wanted to send me to the sinners’ bench at the Salvation Army, but it didn’t work. And now!” “Say, don’t knock him like that, I can’t listen to it.” “Tickle-tickle! I know, he’s your darlin’ little Franz, he’s still your dear little Franzeken, ain’t he?” “He don’t do nothin’ against you, Reinhold.”
To everything its season, to everything, everything. A terrible man, wish he’d let me go, I don’t want to bother with him, he needn’t tell me anything. “No, he don’t hurt us, he’d have a hard time doin’ it, Mieze. But you certainly caught a fine specimen in him, Mieze. Did he ever tell you anything about his arm? What? Ain’t you his girl, or wasn’t you? Come here, Miezeken, you’re my sweet little darling, don’t put on.” What’ll I do? I don’t want him. To everything its season, a time to plant, to pluck up, to rend, and to sew; to weep, and to dance; to lament, and to laugh. “Come on, Mieze, whatcha want with a nut like that? You’re my sweet little girl. Now don’t pretend. You’re not a countess yet, just because you’re with that feller. You oughta be glad to be rid of him.” You oughta be glad; why should I be? “Let ‘im beef now, he ain’t got his Mieze any more.” “Just stop that, and don’t push me like that. I’m not made of iron.” “No of flesh, of nice flesh, say Mieze, let’s have your little beak!” “What’s the matter with you, you fool. I told you not to push me. You’re on the wrong track. Since when am I your Mieze?”
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