Matilda took Emil and Karl, and together they set out on the road leading to the woods. The boys turned, and they could still see the open door of the dark house. Matilda stopped for a moment and she, too, looked back at the door, which seemed to be calling them back reproachfully.
All at once there was a strong gust of wind. The door slammed shut, and the house stood there, a part of the silent darkness all around.
chapter twenty-three
“I wonder what time it is,” Matilda said.
The boys held onto her firmly. They wanted to start running fast, but Matilda held them back.
“Don’t be afraid, these woods are small and not very dense. It looks a lot thicker at night than it does during the day. During the day you can even see right through the trees to the houses on the other side.”
“It must be after ten by now,” said Emil. “The signalman ran to meet the ten o’clock train.”
“Yes,” said Matilda, stroking his head in the dark. “I forgot all about that. Still, I should have taken the clock with us. A clock can come in handy.”
Karl felt in his pocket and was glad to discover that he hadn’t forgotten the penknife that Matilda had given him.
“Do you have your knife?” he asked Emil.
“Of course I have it. I never take it out of my pocket. I’m afraid I might lose it.”
“Are there any animals in the woods?” Karl wanted to know.
“Maybe some stray cats,” Matilda said, laughing. “In the daylight you could see that there’s not much to these woods. But at night it looks like a real forest. There used to be some big, thick trees here, but they were cut down long ago.”
“And the Erlking*?” asked Emil. “Can the Erlking come into the forest?”
“The Erlking is just a foolish bit of make-believe. Somebody made it up just to scare children. You don’t have to be afraid of anything. We’ll be on the other side soon.
“But when we reach the other side,” Matilda continued, “You must walk slowly, as if you’re out taking a stroll. You mustn’t run. If you start running, then they’ll start to chase after us.”
“What if we see a wolf with fiery eyes?” Karl said, more to himself than to Matilda.
“A wolf wouldn’t come so close to the city. The trains passing by would frighten it so much that it would run away. Anyway, if some animal does come near us, I’ll fire at it. I have two guns with me, and they’re both loaded.”
Karl was silent. Emil said nothing, either. He remembered how Matilda pointed the revolver at the signalman, and he felt a pang in his heart for the old man.
“It’s too bad!” he said out loud. “We should have taken the signalman along with us. He’s so lonely.”
Karl sighed. Suddenly something moved and landed at Karl’s feet. It flapped its wings, and then they heard it fly away.
Emil and Karl stood still, petrified with fear.
“Silly boys, you’re just as scared as that owl was. It was sleeping in that tree.”
“Where are we going?” Emil asked, still somewhat afraid.
“Look, here we are, out of the woods already,” Matilda said happily.
After walking the entire way with their heads lowered and eyes half shut, Emil and Karl looked around.
In the distance they saw several little fires burning. It was hard for them to get used to seeing in such low light after walking blindly through the woods. Now they could clearly see a few small houses below them in a valley. Emil and Karl started to race happily down the hill.
“Didn’t we agree not to run?” Matilda scolded them.
Emil and Karl slowed down. The sky grew a little brighter. Here and there tiny stars twinkled and then disappeared, like bright spangles.
“We’re heading back into the city now, but by another route,” Matilda said. “In about fifteen minutes we’ll reach the place where you’ll spend the night.”
“Will you stay there with us?” Karl asked.
“No, tonight it won’t be safe for me there,” Matilda said. “I’ll have to go somewhere else, but you’ll have a nice place to sleep.”
Emil didn’t even want to ask what sort of place it was. He no longer cared. It was all the same to him wherever he was being taken. Even if it was a dark cellar, he thought, like the one where he and Karl wound up spending the night. He remembered the kitten that curled up with him then.
If only he could be a kitten that didn’t need a home, didn’t need a mother and father. But soon he would no longer need a home, either. He’d already become used to the idea that when he’d find a new home, something would happen and he’d have to move on once more.
Tomorrow morning he’d try to learn where his mother was. He had to know what had happened to her. He knew what had become of his father. He’d been at the funeral, with his mother and uncle. But his mother had been taken away, and that was all he knew.
“It must be very late by now,” Emil said, sighing.
A clock responded to his question with eleven strokes, sounding as though someone was pounding with a hammer eleven times.
“Silly, did you hear that? It’s just eleven o’clock. We’ve been on the road for less than an hour,” Matilda said. “At night everything seems bigger and longer.
“We have three more blocks to go,” she continued. “We’re going to my sister-in-law’s house. Her husband was my brother. Thank God, he died a year ago and didn’t live to see all of this turmoil. My sister-in-law is Jewish,” she said, bending over to Emil. “She works at an emigration center. She helps people escape from here. After the present government persecutes them and takes away everything they have, it kicks them out of the country. The lucky ones can find a new country that will open its gates to them.
“Each week,” Matilda said very quietly, “They send off several hundred boys and girls just like you, who have no parents, no friends. Tomorrow they’re sending away another very large group. Emil, Karl, you’re among the lucky ones. It’s easier to save children. There are many sympathetic countries: England, France, Holland, Belgium, America. You have to escape, while there’s still time.”
This made Karl feel happy. His heart was warmed by the list of countries that Matilda had named. England, France, Holland, Belgium, America—they were like stars, little spangles that glistened for a moment and then disappeared into the darkness.
“And will you be going with us?” Karl asked.
“No, I can’t. And—” Matilda paused for a while—“I mustn’t. I have to stay here. I have to stay here, along with hundreds, thousands of others. Now we live like mice, hiding in holes, but one day, somewhere, you’ll hear the good news that Vienna is Vienna again, and Berlin is Berlin again, and people are living like human beings once more. Meanwhile, we have to save you. If you stay here, you won’t survive.”
Emil listened closely, but he felt numb. It was a sensation that often came over him, ever since that day when his mother sat on the footstool and didn’t move, didn’t even speak.
Matilda stopped in front of a small house. She took out a key, walked up a few steps, and unlocked the door.
The face of a frightened young woman appeared at the entrance. She herded Matilda and the two boys inside.
Once inside, they all felt at home. The house was cozy and tidy. The woman’s eyes, warm and dark, were brimming with tears. They looked as though they were about to burst. The young woman embraced Matilda and began sobbing quietly.
chapter twenty-four
The next morning it was raining heavily. Emil, Karl, and Matilda’s sister-in-law walked under a large umbrella. The umbrella had a few holes in it, and raindrops kept landing on the back of Emil’s neck. No matter where he moved, a drop managed to find him.
Karl began to shiver. He still had no coat to wear. Matilda’s sister-in-law had wrapped a white scarf around his throat, but he still felt cold. The woman said nothing, and neither did Emil or Karl.
Everything had happened so quickly since the night before. Emil
was unable to tie it all together. He couldn’t remember when he’d gone to sleep, or even when he’d undressed. Nor could he recall when he’d awoken. He felt as if he were still dreaming, and only the drops of rain falling on his neck every now and then kept him awake.
Quietly he asked Karl if he remembered when Matilda had left, but Karl could only remember that he’d heard her talking to her sister-in-law at night, when he was already in bed. He’d heard her talking about Hans’s arrest. He’d even heard Matilda’s sister-in-law say that they would execute Hans for sure. That was all Karl remembered. He’d been so tired that when the woman woke him he thought he hadn’t been asleep for more than a minute.
Matilda’s sister-in-law bent over, still holding the umbrella, and warned them that it would be better if they didn’t talk, so as not to attract any attention.
Emil and Karl walked along unfamiliar streets. The houses were drenched with the rain, the horses were soaking wet, people looked angry and tense.
Cars raced by and splashed through streams of water. Policemen, their raincoats soaking wet, stood impatiently, directing traffic. Everywhere children who were late hurried off to school.
When Emil saw these children, he let out a deep sigh. Karl knew at once what his friend was feeling. Those children were happy. They tramped through puddles of dirty water with their galoshes.
Matilda’s sister-in-law turned down a small alley. It seemed as though the little street had no space in the middle. The walls on either side almost touched each other. The woman walked up a short flight of iron steps. When she opened the door, Emil and Karl were amazed at what they saw.
There, in a large, dark hall, sat more children than they could count. They sat on long benches and held little bowls on their laps, eating silently. The boys sat separately from the girls.
Immediately Matilda’s sister-in-law turned Emil and Karl over to one of the women who supervised the children. She squeezed the two of them onto a crowded bench and served them hot soup and pieces of bread.
“Do we have milk today?” Matilda’s sister-in-law asked, in a dry voice.
“Maybe we’ll get some later,” the supervisor answered. “There isn’t any just now.” Matilda’s sister-in-law took off her coat, put on a pair of glasses, and sat down at a small table.
The windows were covered with rags and old blankets. Only a few small lamps burned in the large hall. This gave it an inhospitable feeling and caused everyone in there to shiver, as if they were outside in the rain. The silence was broken occasionally by sobbing. The younger children cried loudly, and the women who distributed the soup could barely comfort them.
Four or five women opened the door quietly, but Matilda’s sister-in-law jumped up right away and stopped them at the entrance.
“Ladies, please, you must leave, we can’t make any exceptions. You know our situation.”
The women asked if they could at least have one last look at their children.
“We can’t, it’s not permitted, we mustn’t have any scenes. You can see your children at exactly twelve-thirty, at the train.” And with that she forced them out of the room.
“I’ve told you a thousand times that we can’t allow any mothers inside,” she said sternly to the supervisors. “Our entire office could be shut down. You know the rules just as well as I do.”
When the children finished eating, Matilda’s sister-in-law told them all to remain sitting in their places. She stationed herself in the middle of the room and explained to the children that in a few hours they would be leaving Vienna for good. Calmly she explained that before the train would leave, those children who have parents would probably be able to see their mothers and fathers at the station. The children leaving today would be going to England.
Emil felt cold and then warm at the thought that he was leaving Vienna. He wished he were already at the train. He thought that perhaps his mother might somehow come to say good-bye to him at the station.
Karl wanted to say something, but he felt that Matilda’s sister-in-law was looking at him from behind her glasses.
“You mustn’t cry. Those who feel like crying can remain here. In an hour you’ll go by bus to the train station. If you have any friends here, we advise you to write notes to each other. It often happens that good friends get sent to different cities, even different countries. So it wouldn’t be a bad idea if you wrote each other a few words now.”
Once more it seemed to Karl that the woman was looking at him and Emil. The supervisors gave out pencils and pieces of paper, and many of the children started writing notes.
“But there’s no way that they’ll separate us,” said Emil.
“No way at all,” Karl responded firmly. “I’ll hold onto your sleeve, and I won’t let go. We’ll stick together.”
“Should we write each other a letter?”
“I guess so,” said Karl, and he picked up a pencil.
As soon as he held the pencil in his hand, Karl was overcome with happiness, and he started writing:
Dear Emil,
We’ll never let anyone separate us. We’ll be friends forever.
Your dear friend,
Karl
He held the letter for a while and then turned to give it to Emil. But Emil was still bent over his piece of paper. Tears ran down from his eyes—such big tears that the brittle piece of paper was stained with spots.
“I can’t write any more, I can’t,” he said to Karl, and he gave him the letter, in which he had written only the first few words:
To my only friend, Karl.
I
But the words were spotted with tears, and after the word “I” there were so many stains that the piece of paper was wet.
Now Karl didn’t feel ready to hand over his letter. He wanted to cover it with tears, too, but his eyes felt dry and hard.
Matilda’s sister-in-law raised an old blanket that hung over the window and called out, “We’re leaving!”
chapter twenty-five
Emil and Karl jumped up from their places. Right away they grabbed each other by the hand, as if even then someone was about to separate them.
Five buses were waiting outside the building. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still dark gray and looked ready to start pouring again.
On both sides of the buses stood several dozen men and women, both young and old, who were shouting in unison.
“Jews, go to Palestine! Dirty Jews to Palestine!”
Some of the teenagers in the crowd began pelting the buses with stones. The youngest of the children started crying, but the women quietly helped them onto the buses.
A small stone hit Matilda’s sister-in-law in the head. She started, but she didn’t even turn around and she continued with her work.
Shouts of “Jews, go to Palestine!” could be heard even from the rooftops, where dozens of boys and girls were standing. The children getting on the buses looked up out of curiosity. Paper bags filled with water crashed down from the roofs. The bags burst open and hit a few of the children on the head.
Someone in the middle of the crowd turned on a hose and aimed the water at the children and the drivers. The crowd roared and went crazy. Some became so wild that they went right up to the children and pulled them by the hair, kicked them, and slapped them.
Suddenly Karl felt a shove. A woman, staggering like a drunkard, stood next to him. In the commotion she pressed something in his hand.
He looked closely at her, and he cried out, “Mat—”
But he stopped. He saw her put her hand over her mouth and look at him, smiling through tear-filled eyes.
He tugged on Emil’s arm. Emil also looked around.
“Karl, that’s—”
“Yes,” Karl said, cutting him off, as though he were Emil’s older brother.
Emil also caught a glimpse of Matilda’s smile, but in an instant he watched her twist up her face to look like a drunkard, and she shouted, “Jews, go to Palestine!”
When the buses we
re loaded and on their way, Emil said quietly to Karl, “She risked her life to come see us.”
“Yes, she’s so brave! She gave me a piece of paper. I have it here.”
Karl opened his hand.
“Two pieces of paper!” he whispered. “On one it says ‘Emil’ and on the other is ‘Karl.’”
Karl gave Emil one of the folded pieces of paper. Quickly he opened up his.
I will die so that Emil and Karl might be able to live together in peace.
Hans
Karl shivered with cold.
“What does your note say, Emil?” Karl asked impatiently.
Emil hastily opened his piece of paper with trembling hands.
I will die so that Emil and Karl might be able to live together in peace.
Hans
Emil and Karl looked at each other in silence and, without saying a word, buried the notes deep in their pockets.
Karl began to wonder how Hans had sent these notes to them, and how they came just as he and Emil were about to go away. Emil also seemed to be thinking about the same thing, because he quietly answered Karl.
“Matilda’s very brave.”
“Oh,” said Karl with a burst of happiness, “she’s braver than brave.”
The buses bounced hurriedly over cobblestone streets. It felt as if they were still being pelted with stones and were trying to run away from the city as fast as they could.
It seemed to Karl that the buses’ rushing over the pavement sounded like “Vienna! Vienna! Vienna!”
He thought about his mother. She must already be dead. She, too, died so that Emil and he might live together in peace.
Mama!
Karl was sure that she would have written a note like that to him and to Emil before she died.
He thought about his father’s picture that had hung in their house. Who knew where that picture was now?
“Vienna! Vienna! Vienna!” the buses growled. His mother had lived in Vienna, his father had lived in Vienna, but soon he would no longer live there. He had to escape.
* * *
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