After that they slunk to school, and suddenly they stood there like lethargic buffaloes with their horns lowered; the first written tests in class. German, soon after that Latin and French. It became very difficult to copy from someone else. The professors paid closer attention than ever. And other students who always used to be ready to help seemed to have to force themselves to do it now, making their unwillingness obvious. In break, several eager beavers got together, talked with muted excitement, and made no secret of the fact that they were disinclined to pass on what they knew. With expressions of self-satisfaction, they saw the brief, anxious glances cast at them by those in need of help, and stout, self-confident Scholz, whose fat face was embedded in a triple chin and whose neck was almost non-existent, Scholz whose nickname was Hippo, was the first to refuse his aid outright. During a Latin test, Mertens asked him for a word. He got no answer. Scholz ignored him, didn’t even turn round. Martens asked a second and then a third time, raising his voice, until Professor Niesset warned him, and thereafter kept a sharp eye on him. Others did the same in their own ways. When Severin asked him a question, Altmann, for instance, gave him the information he wanted in such a loud voice that the whole class could hear it, and so, of course, could Niesset; Nowak, on the other hand, mumbled an answer so indistinctly that it was impossible to make out what he was saying, and then turned away in pretended regret. Schleich and Pollak acted as if they were too busy with their own work to have time for anyone else, and Schönthal even let out a curse through his prominent teeth. “For God’s sake! You should have done more preparation!”
Some of the students openly declared war. It was a struggle for existence, they said in self-defence when a few genuinely helpful students—Kaulich, Benda, Weinberg—showed their disapproval. “Tunica proprior palliost!” quoted Klemm. Among the general murmuring, Hippo’s unctuous voice was heard: “Say it in German so that Mertens can understand.”
Kurt Gerber kept quiet. So far, in the rather isolated position intentionally allotted to him in the classroom, he had not had much chance to help anyone, and almost had to offer his support. Even then the offer wasn’t always accepted. The others were afraid of having to reciprocate, and because Kurt needed help in maths, where everyone wanted to do as well for himself as possible, they were very reserved. Kurt didn’t want to force himself on anyone. He knew who his friends were; there were not so many of them, but they were true friends. Weinberg, Kaulich, Gerald, Hobbelmann, maybe Benda too, strong, calm Benda, would have done anything for him. That was enough. He didn’t want all and sundry helping him, oh no! He didn’t want everyone to be able to say: Kurt Gerber is grateful to me for helping him. They all had a right to receive help, only a very few the right to help others.
The year before, Lisa Berwald had offered to let him copy an answer in the maths test from her. (He had been sitting behind her; Professor Rothbart was not a stickler for the same order of seating every time.) Kurt had shaken his head, saying, “Thanks, but no,” as if she had offered him a sweet. Then an odd thing had happened: Lisa, quietly angry, had simply pushed it his way on a piece of paper, saying in a forceful whisper, “You don’t want to come a cropper, do you, idiot?”
Later Kurt had decided to see that incident as the beginning of his love. That was when what was different about Lisa first dawned on him in a clear light. None of the other girls in the class would have been able to salvage a touch of femininity from that silly little scene…
Now he had had no news of Lisa for weeks. She had not answered his letter; he had heard that she was abroad. Kurt refrained from trying to find out for certain. He was satisfied. He didn’t believe the rumours of Lisa’s engagement to a rich manufacturer. Even when they grew more numerous, even when some people claimed to know the man’s name, others his age, even though they were all agreed in saying it was no more than they’d expected. After all, said Kaulich, Lisa was definitely nubile. Which couldn’t be said of all her girlfriends in the class, added Weinberg, in a tone of unsparing clarity. Six girls contemptuously turned down the corners of their mouths, hoping to show that they, untouched by any rumours as they were, were better off.
And one day, in ten o’clock break, there was Lisa, suddenly standing in their classroom. Young, beautiful, light-hearted, wearing a trench coat and a pale beret from which a lock of her brown hair emerged, she stood there, composed, as if she just happened to have arrived late by chance; yes, here I am, what’s so surprising about that? Oh, because I was away so long? There must have been a mistake, that’s not so, look, I’m here now!
Kaulich, the first to see her, shouted, “Lisa!” and started running towards her with a broad smile on his face. He would probably have flung his arms round her, but he didn’t get as far as that. Lisa was surrounded by the girls already. They knew how to behave; with surprising ease they took the situation as if it were routine. They could hardly contain their delight at seeing her again. They made Lisa go forward to the front of the classroom, sat her down on a bench; Well, what are you doing these days, that’s a pretty coat, how brown you are—their chatter swelled louder and louder, the circle around her grew denser, and Lisa, enjoying all the fuss, although she ought to feel well able to deal with being the centre of attention, had to keep her bright smile ready on her lips and renew it whenever she offered her hand to anyone. And she offered it to everyone. To stout little Hobbelmann who came up, panting and pushing, just as affectionately as to simple-minded Zasche, who stared at her as if she were a funfair attraction.
The whole class was gathered around Lisa.
Kurt was the only one who stayed sitting in his place. He didn’t like such crowd scenes, and since he could hardly have welcomed Lisa as he would have wished anyway, he waited.
A few people moved away from the group. Nowak passed him.
“Lisa’s here, Scheri.”
“So?”
“Why don’t you go and say hello? That’s the thing to do when a former classmate turns up.”
“I can wait.”
Kurt looked at the front of the room. Now he could see Lisa clearly. Then she turned her head to him and waved, with a happy light in her lovely, lovely face, and said nothing but waited for him to come over. A warm current ran from his head into all his limbs—mine, she’s mine! My love! But then all the glances that he thought were turned his way dispelled his joy. And as, with some hesitation, he walked over to her, he was annoyed to see Lisa behaving like this.
“At last, Scheri! How are you?”
I don’t want her calling me Scheri, for God’s sake. I’m not just a classmate of hers.
“Thanks, Berwald, I’m fine. How about you?”
Lisa presses his hand. Presses it down. She doesn’t want him to kiss her.
“Why so formal, Herr Gerber?” asks Ditta Reinhard with a sharp smile.
“I can talk dirty if you’d rather, Fräulein Reinhard.”
“Oh, Scheri!” Lisa gave him a little tap. “Can’t you control your tongue a bit better?”
“In front of a lady!” adds Lotte Hergeth caustically.
“You want to show some respect to a distinguished visitor!” snaps Else Rieps. Green-eyed jealousy couldn’t be kept permanently down.
“Oh, please, don’t all laugh at me!” What superiority Lisa’s words convey, ordinary as they are; what else could she have said? And now she’s talking to the others again.
Kurt waits. Why doesn’t she take me aside? After she waved to me… One moment, I have to speak to Kurt Gerber, I know you’ll excuse me. And she can speak to me, too. Saying what? Well, whatever she has to speak to me about.
Maybe she’ll say that in a minute.
But no. She doesn’t.
“I have to catch up with some physics,” says Kurt suddenly, going back to his desk. He will intercept Lisa before she leaves and discuss the most urgent point with her. On the way to the physics lab, where the corridor is dimly lit.
The bell rings. The class sets out with exercise books, textbook
s and drawing instruments. Lisa is at the centre of the students, and Kurt, walking on one side of the procession, is looking for a way to detach her from it, since it seems she can’t detach herself… or doesn’t want to?
The physics lab is on the next floor up. The corridor bends twice, getting darker all the time.
There’s no holding them now. One after another, they press eagerly forward, all of them making it look as accidental as possible. Kurt sees that Lisa is soon hemmed in by the whole horde. He is overcome by fury. No longer because now he won’t be able to speak to her. No, it’s his old hatred for their undignified, brazenly lecherous advances to her, they’re all driven on. They want to be there, gain access to the delicious Lisa, be excitingly close to her. Trumping each other with familiarities that are nothing but a confession of their dismal inability to do anything about it. And it’s done with a certain indifference at that: well, we might as well go along with the others, all in the spirit of the thing. Now Sittig’s hand brushes her breast, as if by chance. Now Körner is putting his arm around her shoulders. Then they both retreat, they’ve done their part, others come up… Kurt’s fury knows no bounds. It’s jealousy, yes, jealousy a thousand times over, but he’s not ashamed of it now, he knows how superior he is to these wretched youths, pressing close to Lisa like randy farm labourers around a milkmaid. And it makes him indignant to think they’re making Lisa no better than a milkmaid with their clumsy little advances; there’s nothing to be done about those because they’re disguised as harmless friendship, and no one is supposed to notice them on pain of appearing ridiculous.
Cowards! Rip her dress off, someone, why don’t you? Push her into a corner. Throw yourselves on her! At least then you’ll have done something. Your behaviour is no less than disgustingly slimy.
The class begins to fill the physics lab. Lisa is still outside with the girls.
Suddenly Anny Kohl has an idea.
“I tell you what, Lisa, come in and stay with us for the lesson! I’m sure Birdie wouldn’t mind.”
This proposal meets with great approval. Lisa doesn’t hesitate for long, she goes in with them.
Professor Hussak is surrounded. “Guess who we’ve brought with us!” He’s glad of the distraction, and readily allows Lisa to stay for the lesson. “But you must keep quiet and pay attention, Student Lisbeth Berwald!” he says.
After twenty minutes full of experiments, Lisa gets restless and asks Hussak for permission to go. Some of the students stand up to wish her goodbye; Lisa nods gravely and says, “Sit down, please!” and then goes quickly out of the door. The class laughs.
Kurt sees and hears this, unable to grasp it, cheated of his new hope. In desperation (he must speak to Lisa, nothing else matters) he puts up his hand. There’s no going back now.
“Professor Hussak, sir!”
“Yes?”
“Please can I leave the room? I’m not feeling well.”
“I see, birdie.” Hussak makes a face; he doesn’t mean ill, why would he, but some of students nudge each other and chuckle. Kurt turns pale. This is the end! He veers off course, believing in his own excuse now.
“Yes, sir. You don’t think I’m a liar, do you?”
That was stupid. But Hussak is far too sensible to exploit the situation with silly jokes. He looks up briefly in surprise, his smile gives way to what is almost concern (of course you don’t feel well, anyone can see that) and lets Kurt go with a magnanimous wave of his hand. Kurt leaves the physics lab slowly, feverish with shame and triumph.
There is still chuckling behind him—now he can’t hear it, the door is closed. He breaks into a run—they can chuckle all they like now—two steps, and Hussak into the bargain—three steps, Lisa was acting so strangely—what’s happened?—faster, faster, Lisa is waiting for me—four steps… Kurt stumbles, falls, catches himself up, forward, no time to waste, if only the gate is open, yes, thank God it is, with one bound he is outside, almost knocking a fat woman down, Lisa isn’t in sight, he runs on along the road, a car brakes, tyres screeching, and turns abruptly aside, the driver calls something angry after him, but Kurt has left it all far behind, he has seen Lisa turning the corner… and gasping for air, knees weak, smudged with dirt, hesitant, there he stands before her like—well, like a schoolboy. He wishes he hadn’t done it, he feels limp suddenly, almost uninterested. What was all that in aid of? Well, here is Lisa staring at him. Now what?
“Why, Kurt! What does this mean?”
“Mean? That I—that you…” Kurt doesn’t say those words except in his head; he alone hears them, and they sound to him ridiculous. He can’t say that.
“I came after you.”
“Yes, so I see. And you got dirty too.” She brushes him down and strokes his hair, which is wet with sweat, back from his forehead. Simply like that, without making much fuss about it. That’s her way. Not bothering with why, she goes straight to the fact that it happened. There is something curiously self-assured about her attitude.
“Well, come on, Kurt. We can’t stand here like this.”
Of course not. Come on. Where to? That’s of no importance. Anywhere.
Kurt walks beside her. As she doesn’t ask any questions, as she doesn’t find it odd that a student is walking in the street during a lesson because of her, it suddenly doesn’t strike him as important to talk to her about it. Or about what happened at school. That’s over now. Over and done with.
“Did you get my letter, Lisa?”
“Yes, of course. Don’t be cross because I haven’t answered it yet.”
“I’m not cross. You probably didn’t have the time.”
“No, I really didn’t. You know—” And the letter, which was so important, is already dismissed, she is already talking about her recent return and a hundred other little things, as if there were nothing else to discuss…
“That’s very interesting—but wouldn’t you rather tell me when we have more time?” He stops. Lisa remembers.
“Oh yes, you have to go back to school. Am I holding you up? I wouldn’t want to make things awkward for you, Kurt.”
How good that sounds, how affectionate, how full of love. Now Kurt is perfectly happy again and relaxed.
“Don’t worry, Lisa.” He raises his hand and strokes the air around her head—touches her, and takes fright. “When will you have time for me?”
“Well—that’s a very difficult—”
“It will be all right, just think when.”
“Wait a minute, this is Wednesday.”
“And tomorrow will be Thursday.”
“Amazing! Then the day after tomorrow will probably be Friday?”
“If nothing happens to prevent it.”
Lisa laughs. She has wonderful teeth, and her bright peal of laughter, so merry, is nothing but that, happy laughter that will suit any occasion. Kurt adores that laugh. It is not for him in particular.
“I don’t have much time, Lisa. When, then?”
“I probably can’t make it this week. But you can always call me at work. I’m working in an arts and crafts studio.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.” Kurt is surprised; Lisa has a career, she is out in the world. He feels a little ashamed of himself.
“Yes, the Dremon Studio. You’ll find it in the phone book. It would be best to call me about the middle of the day. But you must say you’re Dr Berwald, that’s my brother, you see. My boss doesn’t like me to have phone calls. Do it just this once, all the same, because I honestly don’t know when I can be free. And I would like to see you.”
“Would you really, Lisa?”
“Of course. Why ask such a silly question?”
“I’ll call on Monday, then. Is that all right?”
“Fine, Monday. Certainly. I’ll keep it in mind.” She gives him her hand. He pushes her glove back and kisses the lightly tanned skin, a hot, long kiss, and Lisa doesn’t mind. Suddenly she gently strokes his hair. She doesn’t do that often. Kurt trembles. His chest feels constricted, he t
urns and walks quickly away…
The streets are not busy at this hour of the morning. Not that this is the first time Kurt has seen them in the morning. He has often been out of the school building during lessons, has often played truant, he knows the tingling delights of forbidden mornings when you are a school student.
But now he was here for a reason that had nothing to do with school. He was one of those going down the street on his own lawful business. The pavement, the noise belonged to him like the rest of the passers-by.
He took out a cigarette and asked one of them for a light. The man obligingly knocked the ash off the end of his own cigarette, fitted its glowing tip neatly into the cigarette reached out to him, turned it around this way and that, and replied to Kurt’s “Thanks” with a civil, “You’re welcome”, even lifting his hat slightly, and Kurt felt very remiss in having no hat on his own head. But what did that matter, by comparison with the delightful freedom of his gait, making him a rightful part of the general public around him. Good day to you, my dear fellow! You’re in a hurry. So am I. We have urgent business to see to. You have to go to the bank to withdraw a sum of money, I have a little meeting with one Professor Hussak. What, you haven’t heard of him? Oh, he’s a great physicist, a scholar. He’s expecting me, I have to discuss certain matters with him, confidential matters, man to man. I wouldn’t like to keep him waiting, he’s a nice fellow, did me a favour recently, rendered me a great service in an affair close to my heart. Yes, that’s right, there’s a woman in the case. Do I love her? Oh God, yes, I do feel what they call love, don’t they? Well, we’re past the age when—
“Gerber! Can’t you be civil enough to give me the time of day?”
A figure bars his way, standing right in front of him, an unfamiliar male odour rises to his nostrils, but he knows that voice. Horror paralyses him, he raises his head, stares stupidly into a face that, for a second, is twisted with malice, and next moment is merely stern, stern as iron, and cold.
Kurt is bewildered. He is still standing motionless; he stands there for a good minute. Kupfer narrows his lips.
Young Gerber Page 7