Mr Pogge had a sudden inspiration. He took Dot aside, whispered to her and then said, ‘I’ll be right back.’ Then he disappeared.
The others ate without talking much. After lunch, the two children went to Dot’s room, where Piefke was eagerly waiting for them.
Anton had to sit on a chair while the others acted the story of Little Red Riding Hood for him. Piefke knew his part very well by now, but he still didn’t want to eat Dot up. ‘Maybe he’ll learn how when he’s a couple of years older,’ she said. Anton thought it had been an excellent performance all the same, and clapped as if he were in a theatre. Dot took a bow ten times and blew kisses, and Piefke barked until he got a sugar lump.
‘What shall we play next?’ asked Dot. ‘I could do The Hunchbacked Tailor and his Son. Or we could play mother and child, with Piefke as the baby? No, let’s play burglars! You be Robert the Devil, I’ll be fat Berta, and when you come through the door I’ll hit you over the head with the club.’
‘And who’s going to play the three policemen?’ he asked.
‘I’ll be Berta and the three policemen,’ said Dot.
‘You can’t dance with yourself,’ Anton objected. So that was no good either. ‘I know what,’ he said. ‘We’ll play the discovery of America and I’ll be Columbus.’
‘Good,’ cried Dot. ‘I’ll be America and Piefke is the egg.’
‘The what?’
‘He’s the egg,’ she said. ‘Columbus’s egg.’ But Anton didn’t know about that; he hadn’t reached it yet at his school.
‘Here’s another idea,’ he said. ‘We can play crossing the ocean in a folding boat.’ They cleared the table and turned it upside down so that its legs were sticking up in the air. That was the boat. And while Anton was making the tablecloth into a sail, Dot went to the larder to fetch ship’s provisions: a pot of jam, the butter dish, several knives and forks, two pounds of potatoes, a dish of pear compote and half a salami sausage. ‘Salami is a good idea,’ she said. ‘It keeps for months.’ So they packed the provisions into the boat, and then there was just room for the children and the dog. They put a bowl of water beside the table. Dot splashed about in it from time to time as they sailed over the ocean, and said, ‘The sea is terribly cold.’ In the middle of the ocean Anton got out, fetched some salt and sprinkled it into the bowl. He said that seawater had to be salty.
Then there was a dead calm. It lasted for three weeks. Anton rowed with walking sticks, but they hardly moved from the spot. Dot and he and Piefke ate the salami, and Dot wailed, ‘Cap’n, we’ve nearly finished the provisions.’
‘We must hold out,’ said Anton. ‘I see Rio de Janeiro over there.’ And he pointed to the bed.
‘Thank God,’ said Dot. ‘Otherwise I’d have starved to death.’ Although in fact she was so full, what with lunch and the salami sausage, that she felt quite queasy.
‘Here comes a terrible storm,’ said Anton. He got out and rocked the table. ‘Help!’ shouted Dot in despair. ‘We’re sinking!’ Then she threw the two pounds of potatoes overboard to lighten the cargo. But Anton and the storm kept raging. Dot clutched her tummy and said, ‘I feel seasick.’ And because waves as high as houses were breaking over them, Piefke fell into the bowl, along with the pear compote, sending water splashing up.
At last the storm died down, the boy pushed the table over to the bed, and they came ashore in Rio de Janeiro. The local population gave the mariners a hearty welcome, and all three of them were photographed. Piefke had curled up and was enthusiastically licking his sticky coat. It tasted of pear sauce.
‘Thank you for your friendly reception,’ said Dot. ‘We have endured a voyage of great deprivations, but we will look back on it happily. I’m afraid my dress is done for, so I’m going home on the railway. Better safe than sorry.’
‘I am Antonio Gastiglione, Lord Mayor of Rio de Janeiro,’ said the boy. ‘I welcome you to our city, and I name you and your dog world champions at ocean crossing.’
‘Thank you, kind sir,’ said Dot. ‘We will always treasure your cup.’ So saying, she picked up the butter dish and said, with the air of an expert, ‘Genuine silver, at least ten thousand carats.’
Then the door opened and Anton’s mother came in. That was a very happy moment. ‘Mr Pogge fetched me in his car,’ she said. ‘But my goodness, what do you think it looks like in here?’
‘We’ve just been crossing the ocean,’ Dot told her, and then they tidied up the room. Piefke wanted to get into the water and pear compote again of his own accord, but Anton’s mother wouldn’t let him.
Meanwhile, Mr Pogge had a serious conversation with his wife. ‘I want Dot to grow up to be a good sort of girl,’ he said. ‘I can do without another Miss Andacht in this place. I’m not having my child turn into a stuck-up goose. She must learn that life is serious. Dot has chosen her own friends, and I approve of her choice. If you looked after the child more, that would be different, but now I’ve made my decision. Not a word against it, please! I’ve said yes to whatever you wanted long enough. It’s going to be different from now on.’
Mrs Pogge had tears in her eyes. ‘Yes, Fritz, whatever you say,’ she said, mopping her face with her handkerchief. ‘That’s fine, but you mustn’t be cross with me any more.’ He gave her a kiss, and then he asked Anton’s mother to come into the room and asked what she thought about his plan. Mrs Gast was touched, and said that if his wife was happy about it she would gladly agree. She was very happy herself.
‘Now, pay attention, children!’ said Mr Pogge. ‘Listen to me. Anton’s mother is moving into Miss Andacht’s old room today. We’ll get the bedroom with the green wallpaper ready for Anton, and from now on we’ll all live together. All right?’
Anton couldn’t say a word. He shook hands with Mr Pogge and his wife. Then he hugged his mother and whispered, ‘We won’t have so much to worry about now, will we?’
‘No, my dear boy,’ she said.
Then Anton sat down beside Dot again, and she was so pleased that she pulled his ears. Piefke trotted comfortably round the room. It looked as if he were smiling.
‘Well, is that all right, dear daughter?’ asked Dot’s father, stroking her hair. ‘And in the long summer holidays we’ll go to the Baltic Sea with Mrs Gast and Anton.’
Then Dot went out of the room, and when she came back she was carrying a box of cigars in one hand and matches in the other. ‘As a reward,’ she said. Her father lit a cigar, gave a little grunt of pleasure as the first cloud of smoke rose, and said, ‘I’ve earned this.’
ABOUT A HAPPY ENDING
So now we have come to the end of this book, and it is a proper happy ending. All the characters have arrived in the places that are right for them, and we can leave them to live out the rest of their stories, trusting to the future. Miss Andacht’s fiancé is in prison, Anton and his mother are in luck, Dot is happy in the company of her friend Anton and Miss Andacht is in the soup. They are all where they ought to be. Fate has made a story to measure.
Now that might lead you to think that life always works out fairly and comes to a happy ending, like the story in this book. But if you do, you would be making a bad mistake. It ought to be like that, and all sensible people try hard to make it turn out as it should. However, it doesn’t. Not yet.
I was once at school with a boy who regularly copied from his neighbour in class. Do you think he was punished for it? No, it was the neighbour he copied from who got punished. Don’t be too surprised if life punishes you sometime for what wasn’t your fault. When you grow up, make sure that things turn out better! We haven’t quite managed it yet. Try to be better, more honest, fairer and more sensible than most of us grown-ups have been!
They say that the earth was a paradise once upon a time. Anything is possible.
The earth could be a paradise again one day. Everything is possible.
A Little Postscript
Although the story of Dot, Anton and Piefke is over now, I still have something on my mind.
It’s this: children who know my other book, Emil and the Detectives, could say, ‘Dear Mr Kästner, your Anton is a boy just like your Emil. Why didn’t you write about a boy who was entirely different in your new book?’
And as that is not an entirely unjustified question, I would like to tell you the answer before I put the last full stop to this story. I wrote about Anton, although he really is like Emil Tischbein, because I believe that we can’t tell too many stories about boys like that, and we can’t have too many Emils and Antons.
Perhaps you will decide to be like them? Perhaps, if you have come to like them and think they are good examples, you will be as hard-working, right-minded, brave and honourable as they are?
That would be the best reward I could have. Because Emil, Anton and all who are like them will grow up to be very good men. The kind of men we can always do with.
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Copyright
Pushkin Children’s Books
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Dot and Anton was first published in German as Pünktchen und Anton in 1931 by Williams & Co. Verlag, Berlin
Text and illustrations © 1935 Atrium Verlag AG, Zürich
English language translation © Anthea Bell 2015
This translation first published by Pushkin Press in 2015
The translation of this work was supported by a grant from the Goethe-Institut which is funded by the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs
ISBN 978 1 782690 74 0
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, storedin a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing from Pushkin Press
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