Amerika. Part 5

'What kind of argument?' asked the man, and, as Karl didn't answer immediately he added, 'It's all right, you can tell me everything you have against those people. I hate all three of them, and especially your Senora. I would be surprised if they hadn't already tried to poison you against me. My name's Josef Mendel, and I'm a student.'

'Yes,' said Karl, 'they did talk about you, but nothing bad. It was you who treated Miss Brunelda once, isn't that so?'

'That's right,' said the student, with a laugh, 'does the sofa still smell of it?'

'Oh yes,' said Karl.

'I'm glad to hear it,' said the student, and ran his hand through his hair. 'And why are they taking lumps out of you?'

'There was an argument,' said Karl, thinking about how he could explain it to the student. But then he interrupted himself, and said: 'Are you sure I'm not bothering you?'

'In the first place,' said the student, 'you've already bothered me, and unfortunately I'm so nervous that it takes me a long time to get back into it. I haven't done a stroke of work since you've started strolling about on your balcony. Secondly, I always have a break at about three o'clock. So go on, tell me about it. I'm interested.'

'It's very straightforward,' said Karl, 'Delamarche wants me to be his servant. But I don't want to. I wanted to leave right away last night. But he didn't want to let me go, and locked the door, I tried to break it open, and then we had our fight. I'm sorry I'm still here.'

'Have you another job to go to?' asked the student.

'No,' said Karl, 'but I don't care about that, so long as I can get away from here.'

'Well now,' said the student, 'you don't care about that?' And they were both silent for a while.

'Why don't you want to stay with those people?' the student finally asked.

'Delamarche is a bad lot,' said Karl, 'I've had dealings with him before. Once I walked with him for a day, and I was glad when we parted company. And now I'm to be his servant?'

'If all servants were as pernickety as you are when it comes to choosing a master!' said the student, seemingly amused. 'You see, in the daytime, I'm a salesman, the lowest grade of salesman, more of an errand-boy really, in Monthly's department store. That Monthly is most certainly a crook, but I'm not bothered about that, I'm just furious I'm paid so badly. So take an example from me.'

'What?' said Karl, 'you're a salesman in the daytime, and you study at night?'

'Yes,' said the student, 'it's the only way. I've tried everything, but this way is still the best. Years ago I was only a student, day and night you know, and I almost starved doing it, I slept in a pigsty, and I didn't dare enter the lecture halls in the suit I was wearing. But that's over.'

'So when do you sleep?' asked Karl, and looked at the student in astonishment.

'Aye, aye, sleep!' said the student, 'I'll sleep when I've finished my studies. For now I drink black coffee.' And he turned round, pulled out a large flask from under his studying table, poured some black coffee from it into a little cup, and knocked it back, as you swallow medicine as quickly as possible, to get the least taste of it.

'Wonderful stuff, black coffee,' said the student, 'I'm sorry you're so far away that I can't give you some to try.'

'I don't like black coffee,' said Karl.

'Nor do I,' said the student and laughed. 'But where would I be without it. Without black coffee, I wouldn't last five minutes with Monthly. I keep saying Monthly, even though he wouldn't know me from Adam. I can't positively say how I would fare at work if I didn't keep a flask of coffee just as big as this one ready prepared at my desk, because I've never yet dared to stop drinking coffee, but believe me, I'd soon be curled up on my desk, asleep. Unfortunately they half suspect that anyway, they call me "Black coffee", which is a stupid joke, and has I'm sure already damaged my career prospects there.'

'And when will you be finished with studying?' asked Karl.

'It's going very slowly,' said the student with lowered head. He left the railing and sat down at the table again; with his elbows resting on his open book, running his hands through his hair he said: 'It could take another year or two.'

'I wanted to study too,' said Karl, as though that fact ent.i.tled him to more confidence than the now more taciturn student had already shown him.

'I see,' said the student, and it wasn't quite clear whether he'd started reading his book again, or was merely staring at it absent-mindedly, 'you should be glad you've given it up. For some years now I've only been studying out of b.l.o.o.d.y-mindedness. It brings me little satisfaction, and even less in the way of future prospects. What prospects am I supposed to have! America is full of quack doctors.'

'I wanted to be an engineer,' said Karl quickly to the student who now seemed wholly indifferent.

'And now you're going to be a servant for those people,' said the student looking up quickly, 'that must hurt.'

This conclusion on the part of the student was a misunderstanding, but Karl thought it might help him with the student. And so he asked: 'Is there any chance I might get a job at the department store?'

The question tore the student away from his book; it didn't even occur to him that he might help Karl to apply for a job. 'Try it,' he said, 'or rather don't. Getting my job at Montly's has been the greatest success of my life to date. If I had to choose between my studies and my job, I would choose my job every time. Although of course I'm doing my best to see that I never have to make the choice.'

'So that's how hard it is to get a job there,' said Karl, musingly.

'You have no idea,' said the student, 'it's easier to become the district judge here than the doorman at Montly's.'

Karl didn't say anything. That student, who was so much more experienced than himself, and who hated Delamarche for reasons Karl had yet to learn, and who certainly wished no ill upon Karl, didn't offer so much as a word of encouragement to Karl to walk out on Delamarche. And he didn't even know about the threat that was posed by the police, and from which Delamarche offered the only possible source of protection.

'You watched the demonstration down there earlier in the evening, didn't you? If you didn't know the circ.u.mstances, you might think that candidate, Lobter's his name, might have some prospects, or at least was a possibility, no?'

'I don't know anything about politics,' said Karl.

'You're making a mistake,' said the student. But be that as it may, you've still got eyes and ears in your head. The man certainly had his friends and his enemies, that can't have escaped your attention. Well, in my opinion the man hasn't the faintest chance of being returned. I happen to know all about him, someone who lives here with us knows him. He's not an untalented man, and his political opinions and his political career to date would seem to qualify him as a suitable judge for this district. But no one gives him the slightest chance, he'll fail just as comprehensively as it's possible to fail, he'll have blown his few dollars on his election campaign, and that's all.'

Karl and the student looked at one another in silence for a while. The student nodded with a smile, and rubbed his tired eyes with one hand.

'Well, aren't you going to bed yet?' he asked, 'I have to get back to my studies. You see how much I still have to do.' And he riffled through half a volume, to give Karl some idea of how much work was still waiting for him.

'Well, good night then,' said Karl, and bowed.

'Come over and see us some time,' said the student, seated at his table again by now, 'of course only if you'd like to. There are always a lot of people here. Between nine and ten in the evening I'd have some time for you myself.'

'So you advise me to stay with Delamarche?' asked Karl.

'Definitely,' said the student, and already his head was bent over his books. It was as though he hadn't said the word at all; it echoed in Karl's ears, as though it had come from a far deeper voice than the student's. Slowly he made his way to the curtain, took a final look at the student, now sitting immobile in his pool of light, surrounded by all the darkness, and slipped into the room. The combined breathing of the three sleepers met him. He felt along the wall for the sofa, and when he had found it, he stretched out on it quietly, as though it was his regular bed. As the student, who knew Delamarche and circ.u.mstances here well, and was moreover a cultivated man, had counselled him to stay, he had no qualms for the moment. He didn't have such lofty aims as the student, who could say if he would have managed to complete his studies if he'd stayed at home, and what barely seemed possible at home no one could demand that he did in a foreign land. But the hope of finding a job where he could do something and find recognition for it was certainly greater if he took the servant's job with Delamarche, and from the security that offered, waited for a favourable opening. This street seemed to contain many small and medium-sized offices that might not be all that choosy when it came to filling a vacancy. He was happy to be a porter, if need be, but really it wasn't out of the question that he might be chosen for actual office work and might one day sit as an office worker at his desk and look out of his open window with no worries for a while, just like that official he had seen in the morning while walking through the courtyards. It comforted him, even as he shut his eyes that he was still young, and that Delamarche would at some stage let him go: this household really didn't give the impression of being made to last. But once Karl had got a job in an office, then he would occupy himself with nothing but his office work, and not fritter away his strength the way the student did. If need be, he would do night work at the office too, which would be asked of him anyway, in view of his limited business experience. He would think exclusively of the interest of the business where he was employed, and accept all manner of work, even what other employees saw as demeaning to them. Good resolutions crowded into his mind, as though his future boss were standing by his sofa, and could read them in his face.

Thinking such thoughts, Karl fell asleep and as he was drifting off, he was disturbed once more by a vast sigh from Brunelda who, evidently plagued by troubling dreams, tossed and turned on her bed.

'Up! Up!' cried Robinson, the moment Karl opened his eyes in the morning. The curtain in the doorway had not yet been drawn, but you could see from the even way the sun poured through the cracks that the morning was already well advanced. Robinson was bustling about here and there, with a worried expression on his face, now he was carrying a towel, now a bucket of water, now sundry items of clothing and underwear, and every time he pa.s.sed Karl, he would nod in his direction to induce him to get up, and show him, by holding up whatever he happened to be carrying, how he was exerting himself on Karl's behalf, today and for the last time, seeing as he couldn't of course grasp the intricacies of serving on his very first morning.

After a time Karl saw whom Robinson was in the process of waiting on. In an alcove which Karl had failed to notice before, separated from the rest of the room by a couple of chests of drawers, great ablutions were in progress. You could see Brunelda's head, her bare throat the hair had just been pushed into her face and the nape of her neck, over the chests of drawers, and Delamarche's raised hand waving in and out of view, holding a liberally dripping bath sponge, with which Brunelda was being scrubbed and washed. You could hear the short commands Delamarche gave Robinson, who didn't pa.s.s things through the now blocked-off entrance to the alcove, but was restricted to a little gap between one of the chests of drawers and a screen, and was made to hold out each new item with extended arms and averted face. 'The towel! The towel,' shouted Delamarche. And just as Robinson, who had been looking for something else under the table, started at this call and withdrew his head from under the table, there was already a different command: 'Water, I want the water G.o.ddammit,' and the enraged face of Delamarche loomed over the chest of drawers. All those things that Karl thought were needed only once in the course of was.h.i.+ng and dressing were here called for and brought repeatedly, and in every possible order. A large pan full of water was always kept to heat up on a little electric stove, and time and again, with legs wide apart, Robinson lugged it into the washroom. In view of the amount of work it was understandable that he didn't always follow his orders to the letter, and once, when another towel was called for, he simply pulled a s.h.i.+rt off the great sleeping platform in the middle of the room, and tossed it in a tangled ma.s.s over the chest of drawers.

But Delamarche had his hands full as well, and perhaps was only so irritated with Robinson and far too irritated even to notice Karl because he was unable to satisfy Brunelda himself. 'Oh!' she cried, and even the otherwise uninvolved Karl shrank at that. 'You're hurting me! Go away! I'd sooner wash myself than go on suffering like this! I won't be able to lift my arm again because of you. You're squeezing me so hard, it's making me ill. I just know my back is covered with bruises. Of course, you'll never tell me if it is. Just you wait, I'll get Robinson to look at me, or the little new chap. All right, I won't but just be a bit more careful. Just show a little sensitivity, Delamarche, but that's what I say every morning, and it makes no difference. Robinson,' she cried suddenly, waving some frilly knickers in the air, 'come to my rescue, see how I'm suffering, he calls this torment was.h.i.+ng, that Delamarche. Robinson, Robinson, what's keeping you, have you no pity either?' Karl silently motioned to Robinson with one finger to go to her, but Robinson lowered his eyes and shook his head in a superior fas.h.i.+on, he knew better than that. 'Are you crazy?' he whispered into Karl's ear. 'She doesn't mean it literally. One time I did go in, and never again. Both of them grabbed hold of me and held me down in the bath, I almost drowned. And for days afterwards Brunelda taunted me for being dirty-minded, she kept saying: "You haven't been to see me in my bath for a while now," or "When will you come and inspect me in my bath?" I had to get down on my knees and beg before she agreed to stop. I'll never forget that.' And all the time Robinson was talking, Brunelda kept calling: 'Robinson! Robinson! What's keeping that Robinson!'

In spite of the fact that no one came to her a.s.sistance, and there wasn't even a reply Robinson had sat down next to Karl, and the two of them looked silently across at the chests of drawers, above which the heads of Brunelda and Delamarche were visible from time to time in spite of that, Brunelda didn't stop her loud complaining about Delamarche. 'Come on, Delamarche,' she cried, 'you're not was.h.i.+ng me at all. What have you done with the sponge? Get a grip! If only I could bend down, if only I could move! I'd soon show you what was.h.i.+ng is. Where are the days of my girlhood when I used to swim in the Colorado every morning on my parents' estate, the supplest of all my girlfriends. And now! When will you learn to wash me, Delamarche, you're just waving the sponge around, you're trying as hard as you can, but still I can't feel anything at all. When I told you not to scrub me raw, I didn't mean to say that I just wanted to stand around and catch cold. I feel like hopping out of the bath and running off, just as I am.'

But then she didn't carry out her threat which she wasn't actually in a position to do anyway because Delamarche, worried that she might catch cold, seemed to have seized her and pushed her down into the tub, because there was an almighty splash.

'That's typical of you, Delamarche,' said Brunelda, a little more quietly, 'you make a bad job of something, and then try and get out of it by flattering me unmercifully.' Then there was silence for a while. 'They're kissing now,' said Robinson, and raised his eyebrows.

'What work is there to do now?' asked Karl. Now that he had decided to stay here, he wanted to get to work. He left Robinson, who didn't reply, behind on the sofa, and started to pull apart the great bed, still compacted by the weight of the sleepers who had lain on it all night, in order to fold each single item of it neatly, as probably hadn't been done for weeks.

'Do go and see what's happening, Delamarche,' said Brunelda, 'I think they're attacking our bed. You need to be on your guard the whole time, there's never a moment's peace. You'll have to be stricter with those two, or they'll just do as they please.' 'It's bound to be the little fellow with his b.l.o.o.d.y industriousness,' said Delamarche, and it sounded as though he was about to erupt out of the washroom, Karl hurriedly dropped everything, but fortunately Brunelda said: 'Don't leave me, Delamarche, don't leave me. Oh, the water's so hot, it's making me so tired. Stay here with me, Delamarche.' Only then did Karl really notice how there were swathes of steam rising incessantly behind the dressers.

Robinson's hand flew to his cheek, as though Karl had done something terrible. 'I want everything left just exactly as it was before,' came Delamarche's voice, 'don't you know Brunelda likes to lie down for an hour after her bath? What a wretched household! You wait, you'll catch it from me. Robinson, are you daydreaming again. I'm making you responsible for everything that happens. It's up to you to keep that boy in check, we're not going to change the way we do things here to suit him. Whenever we want anything done, you're useless, and if nothing needs doing, you're as busy as bees. Go and skulk in a corner somewhere and wait until you're needed.'

But all that was straightaway forgotten, because Brunelda whispered very feebly, as though overcome by the hot water'My perfume! I want my perfume!' 'Her perfume!' shouted Delamarche. 'Get to it.' Yes, but where was the perfume? Karl looked at Robinson, Robinson looked at Karl. Karl saw that he would have to take the responsibility on his own shoulders, Robinson evidently had no idea where the perfume was, he just lay down on the floor and kept waving both his arms about under the sofa, bringing to light nothing more than tangles of dust and woman's hair. Karl first hurried to the washstand that was right by the door, but its drawers contained nothing but old English novels, journals and sheet music, and all of them so crammed full that it was impossible to shut them again, once they'd been opened. 'The perfume!' groaned Brunelda in the meantime. 'How long it's taking! I wonder if I'll get my perfume today!' In view of her impatience, Karl of course couldn't possibly look thoroughly anywhere, he had to rely on cursory impressions. The bottle wasn't in the washstand, and on top of it were only old jars of medicine and ointments, everything else must have already been taken into the washroom. Maybe the bottle was in the drawer of the dining-table. But, on the way to the table Karl had only the perfume in his thoughts, nothing else he collided violently with Robinson, who had finally given up looking under the sofa, and following some dim notion where the perfume might be, had walked blindly into Karl. The clash of heads was clearly audible. Karl remained mute, Robinson carried on on his way, but to relieve his pain, let out a long and exaggeratedly loud howl.

'Instead of trying to find my perfume, they're ragging,' said Brunelda. 'This household is making me ill, Delamarche, I can just tell I'm going to die in your arms. I must have the perfume,' she then cried, pulling herself together, 'I simply must have it. I'm not leaving the bath until they bring it, even if I have to stay here all day.' And she petulantly brought her fist down into the water, so that it splashed.

But the perfume wasn't in the dining-table drawer either, though that was full of Brunelda's toiletries, such things as old powder puffs, jars of cream, hairbrushes, curls and lots of tangled and stuck-together things, but not the perfume. And Robinson, still wailing, in a corner where there were about a hundred stacked-up boxes and cartons, opening and rummaging through them all one after another, each time causing half the contents, sewing things and letters for the most part, to fall to the floor where they remained, could find nothing either as he occasionally signified to Karl by shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.

Then Delamarche in his underwear leapt out of the washroom, while Brunelda could be heard crying hysterically. Karl and Robinson stopped their search and looked at Delamarche, who, soaked to the skin, and with water pouring off his face and hair as well, exclaimed: 'Now will you kindly start looking.' 'Here!' he commanded Karl, and 'You there!' Robinson. Karl really did look, and even checked places that had already been a.s.signed to Robinson, but he was no more able to find the perfume than Robinson, who devoted most of his energy to keeping an eye out for Delamarche, who was stamping up and down the room as far as it went, undoubtedly longing to give both Karl and Robinson a good thras.h.i.+ng.

'Delamarche!' cried Brunelda, 'come and dry me at least. Those two won't manage to find the perfume, and will only make a mess. Tell them to stop looking. Right away! And put everything down! And not touch anything! They'll turn our apartment into a pigsty. Grab hold of them Delamarche, if they don't stop! But they're still at it, I heard a box falling. They're not to pick it up, leave everything where it is, and just get out of the room! Bolt the door behind them, and come back to me. I've been lying in the water far too long already, my legs are getting quite cold.'

'All right, Brunelda, all right,' cried Delamarche, and hurried to the door with Karl and Robinson. Before he let them go, though, he instructed them to get some breakfast and if possible to borrow a good perfume for Brunelda.

'It's so dirty and messy in your flat,' said Karl once they were in the corridor, 'as soon as we're back with the breakfast, we'll have to start tidying up.'

'If only I wasn't in such pain,' said Robinson. 'The way I'm treated!' Robinson was certainly offended that Brunelda didn't draw the slightest distinction between himself, who had been serving her for months, and Karl, who had only been recruited yesterday. But that was really all he deserved, and Karl said: 'You must pull yourself together.' But in order not to consign him to complete despair, he said: 'It's a job that just needs doing once, and then it'll be done. I'll make a bed for you behind the chests, and once everything's a bit neater, you'll be able to lie there all day and not have to bother about anything, and then you'll have your health back soon enough.'

'So you've seen for yourself what my condition is like,' said Robinson, and turned away from Karl, to be alone with his suffering self. 'But will they ever let me lie in peace?'

'If you like, I'll mention it to Delamarche and Brunelda myself.'

'When has Brunelda ever shown any compa.s.sion?' cried Robinson, and with his fist for which Karl was quite unprepared he banged open the door they were just pa.s.sing.

They found themselves in a kitchen, from whose stove, which seemed in need of repair, little black clouds were rising. Kneeling by the oven door was one of the women Karl had seen in the corridor yesterday, putting large lumps of coal into the fire with her bare hands, while inspecting it from all angles. All the while she was groaning with the discomfort of having to kneel at her age.

'It had to be, didn't it, this pestilence,' she said, on seeing Robinson, got to her feet with some difficulty, resting her hand on the coal box, and shut the oven door, around whose handle she wrapped her ap.r.o.n. 'It's four in the afternoon' Karl looked in astonishment at the kitchen clock 'and you want your breakfast? What a bunch!'

'Sit down,' she said, 'and wait till I can see to you.'

Robinson made Karl sit down next to him on a little bench by the door, and whispered to him: 'We have to do whatever she says. We depend on her, you see. We rent our room from her, so she can evict us any time she likes. Whereas we can't possibly change apartments, we could never manage to move all our things out, and above all Brunelda isn't transportable.'

'And isn't there any other room to be had on the pa.s.sage?' Karl asked.

'No one would have us,' replied Robinson, 'no one will have us in the whole building.'

So they sat quietly and waited on their little bench. The woman kept running between a pair of tables, a washtub and the stove. From her exclamations it could be gleaned that her daughter was poorly, and that as a result she had to do all the work by herself, which meant the serving and catering for thirty tenants. As if that weren't enough on its own, the oven had something wrong with it, the food refused to cook, a thick soup was being prepared in two enormous saucepans, and however many times the woman inspected it with her ladles and poured it out from a height, the soup wasn't ready, it was certainly the fault of the poor fire, and so she almost squatted down on the floor by the door of the oven, and with a poker prodded around in the glowing coals. The smoke that filled the kitchen made her cough so much that sometimes she had to reach for a chair and for minutes on end, do nothing but cough. She quite regularly remarked that she would not supply any more breakfasts today, because she had neither the time nor the inclination. As Karl and Robinson had been detailed on the one hand to get the breakfast, and on the other had no possibility of compelling her, they simply ignored such remarks of hers, and just sat quietly as before.

All around on chairs and footstools and on and underneath the tables, yes, even stacked in a corner of the floor, were the dirty breakfast dishes of the tenants. There were jugs which probably still contained a little coffee or milk, some of the little plates had sc.r.a.ps of b.u.t.ter on them, there was a large tin can that had fallen over, and some biscuits had rolled a long way across the floor. It was quite feasible to make all that into a breakfast that even Brunelda, as long as she was kept ignorant of its origins, wouldn't have been able to turn her nose up at. When that occurred to Karl, and a glance at the clock told him that they had been waiting for half an hour already, and Brunelda might be raging and turning Delamarche against the servants, the woman was just calling out, in the midst of a fit of coughing in the course of which she stared at Karl 'You can sit here as long as you like, you're not getting any breakfast. But if you want, you can have supper in a couple of hours.'

'Come on, Robinson,' said Karl, 'we'll put our own breakfast together.' 'What?' cried the woman tilting her head. 'Be reasonable,' said Karl, 'why won't you give us our breakfast? We've been waiting for half an hour, that's long enough. It's all included in what we pay, and I'm sure we pay more than some of your other tenants. The fact that we breakfast so late may be burdensome for you, but we are your tenants, we're in the habit of breakfasting late, so you should cater for us a little bit as well. Of course it's particularly difficult for you today, what with your daughter's sickness, but then again we're prepared to make our own breakfast from the leftovers, if that's all there is and you won't make us any fresh.'

But the woman wouldn't let herself in for a friendly discussion with anyone, for these particular tenants even the general leftovers were too good; but on the other hand she was quite fed up with the intrusiveness of these two servants, so she grabbed a cup, thrust it at Robinson's midriff, who, after sitting for some time with an injured expression, realized that he was supposed to hold on to it, to collect whatever food the woman could get together. She then loaded the cup in a great hurry with an a.s.sortment of things, but the overall appearance was that of a lot of dirty crockery, not like a presentable breakfast. Even as the woman pushed them outside, and they hurried towards the door, shoulders hunched as though expecting blows or abuse, Karl took the cup out of Robinson's hands, because it didn't seem to him that Robinson would look after it well enough.

Once they were in the corridor, sufficiently far away from the landlady's door, Karl sat down on the floor with the cup, first of all to give it a good clean, then to gather together what belonged together, to pour all the milk into one container, to sc.r.a.pe the various pats of b.u.t.ter on to one plate, and then to remove every appearance of use, thus cleaning the knives and spoons, tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the half-eaten bread rolls, and so put a better complexion on the whole thing. To Robinson this work seemed superfluous, and he insisted that breakfast had often looked much worse, but Karl wouldn't be talked out of it, and was even glad that Robinson with his dirty fingers wasn't interested in helping. To keep him quiet, Karl had right away, but, as he told him, in final settlement, given him a few biscuits and the thick sediment of a jug once containing cocoa.

When they reached their apartment, and Robinson casually grasped the door handle, Karl held him back, since he wasn't yet sure whether it was all right to go in. 'Oh yes,' said Robinson, 'he's just doing her hair.' And indeed, in the still unaired and darkened room there sat Brunelda in the armchair with her legs apart, while Delamarche stood behind her, bending low over her, combing her short and probably very tangled hair. Brunelda was wearing another of her very loose dresses, this time a pale pink one, if anything it was a little shorter than yesterday's, at any rate you could see the coa.r.s.e woven white stockings up to the knee. Impatient with the time it was taking to comb her hair, Brunelda pushed her thick red tongue between her lips this way and that, sometimes, with the exclamation 'Oh Delamarche!', she even completely broke away from Delamarche, who waited with raised comb for her to lay her head back again.

'That took a long time,' said Brunelda in a general way, and to Karl in particular she said: 'You'll have to speed up a bit if you want to give satisfaction. That lazy guzzling Robinson is not a good example for you. I expect you've already breakfasted on the way somewhere, well, I tell you, I won't stand for that on another occasion.'

This was most unfair, and Robinson too shook his head and his lips moved although they didn't make any sound, but Karl for his part could see that the only way of impressing his masters was by showing clear evidence of work. He therefore pulled a low j.a.panese table out of a corner, laid a cloth over it, and put out the things he had brought. Anyone who had seen the origins of this breakfast could not fail to be impressed with it, but for those others who hadn't, as Karl had to admit, there were some grounds for criticism.

Luckily, Brunelda was hungry. She nodded graciously at Karl, as he set everything out, and often got in his way by filching little morsels for herself before he was ready, with her soft, fat, potentially all-flattening hand. 'He's done well,' she said, smacking her lips, and pulled Delamarche, who left the comb in her hair for a later resumption, down next to her on a chair. Delamarche too was mollified by the sight of the meal, both of them were very hungry, their hands hurried this way and that across the little table. Karl saw that to give satisfaction he should be sure to bring as much as possible, and, remembering he had left various eatables on the floor of the kitchen, he said: 'For this first time, I wasn't sure how to go about it, next time I'll do better.' But even as he spoke, he remembered whom he was addressing, he had concentrated too much on the thing itself. Brunelda nodded contentedly at Delamarche, and fed Karl a handful of crumbs by way of reward.

FRAGMENTS.

(1) BRUNELDA'S DEPARTURE BRUNELDA'S DEPARTURE One morning Karl pushed the Bath chair in which Brunelda sat out of the gate. It was rather later than he had planned. They had agreed to arrange the exodus for night-time, to attract none of the attention in the street which would have been inevitable by day, however demurely Brunelda offered to cover herself with a large grey cloth. But getting her down the steps had taken too long, in spite of the eager cooperation of the student, who, as it now transpired, was nothing like as strong as Karl. Brunelda comported herself very bravely, hardly groaning at all, and trying in every way to make it easier for her two bearers. But there was no other way of doing it than setting her down on every fifth step, to give themselves, and her too, time for a minimal rest. It was a chilly morning, a cold subterranean sort of breeze was blowing in the corridors, but Karl and the student were covered in sweat, and each time they stopped kept having to wipe their faces with a corner of Brunelda's cloth, which she kindly let them have. And so it was fully two hours till they reached the bottom, where the little handcart had been waiting since the previous evening. The lifting of Brunelda into it was again a laborious process, but then one could see the whole enterprise as crowned with success, because the pus.h.i.+ng of the wagon couldn't be that difficult, with its high wheels, although there was always the chance that the wagon might fall apart under Brunelda's weight. That was a risk that had to be taken, though, one could hardly travel with a spare conveyance, although the student had half jokingly volunteered to get hold of one and push it. Next they had to take leave of the student, which was actually very cordial. All the past disagreements between Brunelda and the student appeared forgotten, he even apologized for the old insult to Brunelda he had perpetrated during her illness, but Brunelda said that had been long forgotten and more than made up for. She ended up asking the student to be so good as to accept a dollar from her as a keepsake, which she had some trouble finding among her skirts. In the light of Brunelda's famous avarice, this gift was really very significant, and the student was quite delighted with it, and in his delight tossed the coin high up in the air. Then, though, he had to look for it on the ground, and Karl had to help him, and it was Karl in the end who found it under Brunelda's cart. The farewell between the student and Karl was of course much more straightforward, they simply shook hands, and said they were sure they would meet again, by which time at least one of them the student insisted it would be Karl, Karl that it would be the student would have achieved fame, as unfortunately hadn't happened yet. Then Karl, in good heart, picked up the wagon handle, and pushed it out of the gate. The student watched them as long as they were in sight, and waved his handkerchief. Karl frequently turned round and nodded goodbye, even Brunelda would have liked to turn round, but such a movement was too strenuous for her. At the end of the street, in order to make a last farewell possible for her, Karl described a circle with the wagon, so that Brunelda could see the student too, who used the opportunity to wave especially vigorously with his handkerchief.

But then Karl said they mustn't have any more stops, they had a long way ahead of them, and had set out much later than they'd meant to. And indeed, one could already see the occasional vehicle, and even the odd pedestrian too, on his way to work. Karl had meant nothing more by his remark than what he had said, but Brunelda with her sensitivity had a different interpretation and completely covered herself with her grey cloth. Karl made no objection; a handcart with a grey cloth draped over it was still a very arresting sight but incomparably less than a clearly visible Brunelda would have been. He navigated very carefully; before turning a corner, he would look down the street; if it seemed necessary, he even left the wagon and went on alone a few paces, if he could see some potentially disagreeable encounter looming, then he waited until it might be avoided, or even followed a different route down a new street. But even then, as he'd previously studied all possible routes in detail, he never risked making a long detour. Even so, there were obstacles that might have been antic.i.p.ated, but couldn't be foreseen individually. Suddenly, for instance, in a street that climbed gently, enjoyed good visibility, and was happily completely deserted, something that Karl sought to make the most of by especial haste, a policeman emerged from the dark corner of an entry way, and asked Karl what he was pus.h.i.+ng in his carefully covered cart. Though he had looked quite stern to begin with, he had to smile when he lifted the cloth and saw the hot and apprehensive form of Brunelda. 'h.e.l.lo!' he said. 'There I was thinking you had about ten sacks of potatoes, and it's just one female? Where are you headed for? Who are you?' Brunelda didn't even dare look at the policeman, but kept her eyes on Karl, evidently doubting that even he would be able to save her. But Karl had had enough dealings with policemen, the whole affair didn't seem so terribly threatening to him. 'Miss, why don't you show him', he said, 'the piece of paper you were given?' 'Oh yes,' said Brunelda, and started looking, but in such a hopeless fas.h.i.+on that she really would arouse suspicion. 'Miss', said the policeman with manifest irony, 'seems unable to find her paper.' 'Not at all,' said Karl calmly, 'she's got it all right, she's just mislaid it.' He began looking for it himself, and soon pulled it out from behind Brunelda's back. The policeman gave it a perfunctory glance. 'So that's you, is it,' said the policeman with a smile, 'Miss? And what about you, little fellow, in charge of transport and arrangements? Can't you find any better occupation?' Karl merely shrugged his shoulders, that was just typical police nosiness. 'Well, have a good trip then,' said the policeman, when he didn't get an answer. There was probably contempt in the policeman's tone, and so Karl went away without saying goodbye, the contempt of the police was still preferable to their interest.

Shortly afterwards he had a possibly even more disagreeable encounter. A man approached him, pus.h.i.+ng a handcart full of milk churns, and obviously burning to know what was under the grey cloth on Karl's cart. It was hardly possible that he had exactly the same route as Karl, but he stuck to his side, whatever surprising turns Karl made. At first he contented himself with exclamations, such as: 'That looks like a heavy load' or 'Your load looks badly balanced, something's about to fall off the top.' Then, later, he put direct questions: 'What have you got under that cloth?' Karl replied: 'What's it to you?' But as that only made the man still more curious, Karl finally said: 'Apples.' 'What a lot of apples,' said the man in amazement, and he repeated it a few times yet. 'That's a whole apple harvest,' he said. 'That's right,' said Karl. But, either because he didn't believe Karl, or because he wanted to annoy him, he went further, he started all the while they were moving reaching out playfully for the cloth, and finally went so far as to tug at it. How Brunelda must be suffering! Out of consideration for her, Karl wanted to avoid an argument with the man, and he turned abruptly into the next open gate, as though that were his destination. 'Here we are,' he said, 'thanks for your company.' The man stopped in amazement in front of the gate, and watched Karl calmly going in, prepared if need be, to cross the whole of the first courtyard. Surely the man could be in no more doubt, but to satisfy his wickedness one more time, he left his wagon standing, tiptoed after Karl and tugged so hard on the cloth that he almost bared Brunelda's face. 'Your apples need to breathe,' he said, and off he ran. Even that Karl put up with, since it finally rid him of the man. He pulled the cart into a corner of the courtyard, where there were some large empty crates, in the lee of which he wanted to say some comforting words to Brunelda under her cloth. But he had to talk to her a long time, because she was in tears, and quite seriously beseeched him to let her stay behind the crates all day, and only go on at night. He might not have been able to convince her how mistaken that would have been on his own, but when someone at the other end of the pile of crates hurled an empty crate on to the ground, so that it made a dreadful noise that echoed round the empty courtyard, she was so terrified that, without another word, she pulled the cloth back over her again, and was probably delighted when Karl quickly got moving again.

The streets were now getting more and more populous, but the wagon aroused rather less attention than Karl had feared. Perhaps it might even have been wiser to choose a different time for the move. If another journey like this should become necessary, Karl decided to try it at noon. Without any further serious incident, he finally turned into the dark narrow alleyway where Enterprise No. 25 was. In front of the door stood the squinting administrator with his watch in his hand. 'Are you always this late?' he asked. 'We had various obstacles,' explained Karl. 'You always get those,' said the administrator. 'In this firm, they're not an excuse. Kindly remember that!' Karl barely listened to talk like that any more, everyone used their own power and belaboured the next man. Once you'd gotten used to it, it wasn't really much more than the regular striking of a clock. But what did alarm him as he pulled the wagon into the corridor was the dirt there, although he'd been expecting it too. It wasn't, when he looked at it more closely, any tangible sort of dirt. The stone flags in the pa.s.sage had been swept almost clean, the whitewash on the walls wasn't old, the artificial palms only slightly dusty, and yet everything was greasy and repulsive, it was as though everything had been somehow misused, and no cleaning on earth could ever make it better. Whenever Karl came to a new place, he liked to think what improvements could be made to it, and how pleasant it must be to roll up his sleeves and get down to it, regardless of the almost infinite labour it would take. But here he didn't know where to start. Slowly he took the cloth off Brunelda. 'Welcome, Miss,' said the administrator affectedly, there was no question that Brunelda had made a good impression on him. No sooner had Brunelda sensed that than, as Karl observed with satisfaction, she began to exploit it. The fear of the last few hours vanished. She [text ends here]

(2).

On a street corner, Karl saw a poster with the following announcement: 'At the racecourse in Clayton, today from 6 a.m. till midnight, personnel is being hired for the Theatre in Oklahoma! The great Theatre of Oklahoma is calling you! It's calling you today only! If you miss this opportunity, there will never be another! Anyone thinking of his future, your place is with us! All welcome! Anyone who wants to be an artist, step forward! We are the theatre that has a place for everyone, everyone in his place! If you decide to join us, we congratulate you here and now! But hurry, be sure not to miss the midnight deadline! We shut down at midnight, never to reopen! Accursed be anyone who doesn't believe us! Clayton here we come!'

There were a lot of people standing in front of the poster, but it didn't seem to excite much enthusiasm. There were so many posters, no one believed posters any more. And this poster was still more incredible than posters usually are. Above all, it had one great drawback, there wasn't a single word in it about payment. If it had been at all worth mentioning, then surely the poster would have mentioned it; it wouldn't have left out the most alluring thing of all. No one wanted to be an artist, but everyone wanted to be paid for his work.

But for Karl there was a great lure in the poster. 'All welcome' it said. All, even Karl. Everything he had done up until now would be forgotten, no one would hold it against him. He could turn up for work that was not a disgrace, something for which people were openly invited to apply! And just as open was the promise that he would be taken on as well. He could ask for nothing better, he wanted to begin a proper career at last, and perhaps this was the way. Maybe all the grandiloquence of the poster was just a trick, maybe the great Theatre of Oklahoma was just a little touring circus, but it was taking people on, and that was enough. Karl didn't read the poster through again, he just looked out the sentence 'All welcome' once more.

At first he thought of going to Clayton on foot, but that would have meant a three-hour slog, and he might arrive just in time to hear that all the places had been filled. Admittedly, according to the poster, there was an unlimited number of vacancies to be filled, but vacant position ads always put it like that. Karl realized that he would either have to decide against it on the spot, or take public transport. He counted up his money, without the trip it was enough for eight days, he pushed the little coins around on the palm of his hand. A gentleman who had been watching him patted him on the back and said: 'All the best for the ride to Clayton.' Karl nodded silently, and went on calculating. But he decided soon enough, took out the money for the ride, and went to the subway.

When he got out in Clayton, the sound of many trumpets greeted his ears. It was a confused noise, the trumpets weren't playing in tune, there was just wild playing. But that didn't bother Karl, rather it confirmed to him what a great enterprise the Theatre of Oklahoma was. But when he left the station and saw the whole racecourse ahead of him, he saw that everything was much bigger than he could possibly have imagined, and he couldn't understand how an organization could go to such lengths merely for the recruitment of personnel. Outside the entrance to the racecourse was a long low stage, on which a hundred women dressed as angels in white cloths, with great wings on their backs were blowing into golden trumpets. They weren't standing directly on the stage though, each of them stood on an individual pedestal that couldn't be seen, because the long billowing robes of the angel costumes completely covered them. As the pedestals were very high, as much as six feet, the figures of the women looked gigantic, only their little heads looked somewhat out of scale, and their hair, which they wore loose, looked too short and almost laughable, hanging between the big wings and down the side of them. To avoid uniformity, pedestals of all different sizes had been used, there were some quite low women, not much above life size, but others next to them seemed to scale such heights that they were surely in danger from every breath of wind. And now all these women were blowing trumpets.

There weren't many listeners. Small by comparison to their great forms, about a dozen or so youths walked up and down in front of the stage, looking up at the women. They pointed at this one or that one, but didn't seem to have any intention of joining up or going inside. Only one slightly older man was to be seen, he stood a little to one side. He had brought along his wife and a baby in a pram. The woman held the pram with one hand, with the other she supported herself on the man's shoulder. They admired the performance, but you could see they were disappointed too. They were probably expecting to find a work opportunity, and were confused by the trumpeting.

It was the same with Karl. He went over to the man, listened to the trumpets a while and said: 'Is this not the reception point for the Theatre of Oklahoma?' 'I thought so too,' said the man, 'but we've been waiting here for an hour, and have heard nothing but trumpets. There's not a poster anywhere, no announcers, no one to get any information from.' Karl said: 'Perhaps they're waiting for more people to come. There really aren't very many here yet.' 'Could be,' said the man, and they were both silent again. It was difficult to conduct a conversation with all the noise of the trumpets. But then the woman whispered something to her husband, he nodded, and she promptly called out to Karl: 'Couldn't you go across to the racecourse and ask where the reception takes place?' 'Yes,' said Karl, 'but that would mean walking right across the stage, through the angels.' 'Is that so difficult?' asked the woman. She thought it was a simple matter for Karl, but was reluctant to let her husband go. 'Well, all right,' said Karl, 'I'll go.' 'That's very good of you,' said the woman, and she and her husband shook Karl's hand. The youths cl.u.s.tered together to watch Karl climbing on to the stage. It felt as though the women blew louder, to welcome the first job applicant. And yet the ones whose pedestals Karl pa.s.sed on his way actually took their trumpets from their lips, and leaned over to watch him. At the far end of the stage, Karl saw a man walking restlessly back and forth, obviously just waiting for people, to give them all the information they could possibly wish for. Karl was on the point of going over to him, when above him, he heard the sound of his name: 'Karl,' called one of the angels. Karl looked up, and was so pleasantly surprised he started to laugh: it was f.a.n.n.y. 'f.a.n.n.y,' he cried, and waved up at her. 'Come here!' called f.a.n.n.y. 'Don't just walk past me.' And she parted her robes, revealing her pedestal and a narrow flight of steps leading up it. 'Am I allowed to go up?' asked Karl. 'Who's going to tell me we can't shake hands with each other,' cried f.a.n.n.y, and looked around wrathfully, as if in fact someone with just such a message was coming. Karl ran up the stairs. 'Not so fast!' cried f.a.n.n.y. 'The pedestal and the pair of us will fall over.' But they didn't, Karl successfully reached the last step. 'Look,' said f.a.n.n.y, after they'd greeted one another, 'see what a good job I've got.' 'It's very nice,' said Karl, looking round. All the women nearby had noticed Karl, and were giggling. 'You're almost the tallest of them,' said Karl, and put out a hand to measure the height of the others. 'I saw you right away,' said f.a.n.n.y, 'as soon as you came out of the station, but unfortunately I'm in the back row, so you couldn't see me, and I wasn't able to call you either. I did try and blow especially loud, but you didn't spot me.' 'You do all play very badly,' said Karl. 'Let me have a go.' 'Sure,' said f.a.n.n.y, and gave him the trumpet, 'but don't spoil the chorus, or I'll lose my job.' Karl began to play, he had imagined it would be a crude version of a trumpet, really just for making a noise, but it turned out to be an instrument that was capable of almost infinite expression. If all the instruments were like that one, then they were being seriously misused. Undisturbed by the noise of the others all around, Karl played a tune he had heard once in a bar somewhere at the top of his lungs. He was glad to have run into an old friend, to be privileged to play the trumpet in front of everyone, and to be on the verge, possibly, of getting a good job. A lot of the women stopped playing and listened: when he suddenly stopped, barely half the trumpets were in use, and it took a while for the previous volume to return. 'You're an artist,' said f.a.n.n.y, as Karl handed the trumpet back to her. 'You should get a job as a trumpeter.' 'Do they take men too?' asked Karl. 'Yes,' said f.a.n.n.y, 'we play for two hours. Then we are relieved by the men, who are dressed as devils. Half of them are trumpeters, the other half drummers. It's very nice, just as the whole design is very beautiful. Don't you like our costumes? What about the wings?' She looked down her body. 'Do you think,' asked Karl, 'I'll manage to get a job here too?' 'Definitely,' said f.a.n.n.y, 'it's the greatest theatre in the world. How lucky that we're going to be together again. Although that depends on what sort of job you get too. Because it's quite possible that even if we both have jobs here, we might never see each other.' 'Is the whole thing really that big?' Karl asked. 'It's the greatest theatre in the world,' f.a.n.n.y said again, 'I have to admit I haven't seen it myself yet, but some of my colleagues who have been to Oklahoma, say it's almost boundless.' 'There aren't many people applying,' said Karl, pointing down at the youths and the little family. 'That's true,' said f.a.n.n.y. 'But bear in mind that we recruit in every major city, that our publicity team is continually on the move, and that we are only one of many such teams.' 'Has the theatre not opened yet?' asked Karl. 'Oh yes,' said f.a.n.n.y, 'it's an old theatre, but it's being extended all the time.' 'It surprises me,' Karl said, 'that there aren't more people coming in.' 'Yes,' said f.a.n.n.y, 'it is strange.' 'Could it be,' said Karl, 'that the lavish displays with angels and devils put off more people than they attract?' 'Hard to say,' said f.a.n.n.y. 'But it's a possibility. You should tell our leader about it, perhaps you can help him by doing that.' 'Where is he?' asked Karl. 'In the racecourse,' said f.a.n.n.y, 'in the stewards' box.' 'That's another thing,' said Karl, 'why is the recruiting taking place at a racecourse?' 'Well,' said f.a.n.n.y, 'wherever we go, we make the biggest preparations for the biggest demand. There's so much s.p.a.ce in a racecourse. We put our processing offices in the little booths where they usually take bets. There are said to be more than two hundred of them.' 'But,' Karl exclaimed, 'does the Theatre of Oklahoma have sufficient income to pay for such publicity teams?' 'What's it to us,' said f.a.n.n.y. 'But now, Karl, you'd better go, in case you miss out, and I need to start playing again. Try in any case to get a job on our team, and come back and tell me. Remember I'll be on tenterhooks.' She pressed his hand, told him to be careful going down the steps, put the trumpet to her lips again, but didn't start blowing until she saw that Karl was safely back on the ground. Karl arranged her robes round the steps as they had been before, f.a.n.n.y thanked him with a nod of her head, and Karl went, pondering all that he had heard in various ways, up to the man who had already seen Karl up with f.a.n.n.y, and had approached the pedestal to meet him.

'Do you want to join us?' asked the man. 'I'm the team's head of personnel, and would like to welcome you.' He stood leaning forward slightly, perhaps out of politeness, swaying on the spot, and playing with his watch chain. 'Thank you,' said Karl. 'I read your company's poster, and have reported here as asked.' 'Quite right,' said the man, approvingly, 'unfortunately not everyone behaves as correctly as you do.' Karl wondered if this might be the moment to let the man know that the inducements of the publicity team, by their very magnificence, might be counter-productive. But he didn't say anything, because this man wasn't the head of the team, and besides it wouldn't have made a good impression if, before he had even been taken on, he started suggesting what improvements might be made. And so he merely said: 'There's someone else waiting outside, who wants to report as well and sent me on ahead. Can I go back and get him?' 'Of course,' said the man, 'the more people the better.' 'He has his wife with him, and a baby in a pram. Should they come too?' 'Of course,' said the man, who seemed to be amused by Karl's doubts. 'We can use everyone.' 'I'll be back right away,' said Karl, and ran to the edge of the stage. He waved to the couple and called out that they could all come. He helped lift the pram on to the stage, and they went on together as a group. The youths, seeing that, held a discussion, then, hesitating until the very last moment, they slowly climbed the steps, hands in pockets, and finally followed Karl and the family. Just then more pa.s.sengers emerged from the underground station, and seeing the stage with the angels, threw up their arms in amazement. It did appear as though the rate of job applications might pick up somewhat. Karl was very glad to have come so early, perhaps the first of all, the couple were anxious and asked various questions about what would be expected of them. Karl said he knew nothing definite as yet, but he had really received the impression that everyone without exception would be taken. He thought one could have confidence.

The head of personnel came to meet them, he was very pleased so many people were coming, he rubbed his hands, greeted everyone individually with a little bow, and put them all in a line. Karl was first, then the couple, and only then everyone else. When they had all lined up, the youths at first barged and shoved each other, and it took a while for them to settle down, then the head of personnel said, as the trumpeters ceased: 'On behalf of the Theatre of Oklahoma, I'd like to welcome you. You've come early' actually, it was almost noon 'the crush isn't yet great, and so the formalities of your recruitment will soon be concluded. I trust you all have your legitimation papers on you.' The youths straightaway pulled some old papers out of their pockets and waved them at the head of personnel, the husband nudged his wife, who pulled a whole bundle of papers from underneath the baby's coverlet in the pram, only Karl had none. Would that get in the way of his recruitment? It was quite possible. But Karl knew from past experience that, with a little determination, such regulations could be circ.u.mvented. The head of personnel looked down the line, to check that everyone had their papers, and as Karl had raised his hand as well, even though it was an empty hand, he took it that he too was provided for. 'That's fine,' said the head of personnel, and waved the youths away, as they pressed to have their papers inspected immediately, 'the papers will be examined in the reception suites. As you've already seen from our posters, we can use everyone. But of course we need to know what an applicant's previous occupation was, so that we can put him somewhere where his experience will be of use to us.' But it's a theatre, Karl thought dubiously, and listened very closely. 'Therefore,' continued the head of personnel, 'we have set up reception suites in the bookmakers' booths, one office for each type of profession. So I want you all to tell me your previous occupations, families generally go to the office of the man, then I will lead you to your respective offices, where first your papers and then your qualifications will be tested by experts in the field just a very short test, nothing to be afraid of. Then you'll be taken on, and will receive further instructions from there. All right, let's begin. The first office, as the sign will tell you, is for engineers. Do there happen to be any engineers among you?' Karl stepped forward. It seemed to him, precisely because he had no papers, that he should aim to get through all the formalities as quickly as possible, and he did have a certain justification for stepping forward too, as he had wanted to become an engineer. But when the youths saw him step forward, they became envious, and stepped forward too, every one of them. The head of personnel drew himself up to his full height and said to the youths: 'You're all engineers?' Then they all slowly put their hands down again, while Karl stood his ground. The head of personnel looked at him with some incredulity, because Karl seemed to him both too badly dressed and too young to be an engineer, but he made no comment, perhaps out of grat.i.tude, because Karl, or so it must have seemed to him anyway, had brought along all these applicants. He merely pointed courteously to the office in question, and Karl went there while the head of personnel turned to the others.

In the office for engineers were two men seated at two sides of a right-angled desk, comparing two large inventories they had lying in front of them. One of them read from a list of names, the other ticked them off in his inventory. When Karl stepped in front of them and said h.e.l.lo, they immediately put aside their inventories, and both took out large ledgers, which they clapped open. One of them, obviously just a secretary, said: 'May I see your legitimation papers.' 'I'm afraid I don't have them with me,' said Karl. 'Doesn't have them,' said the secretary to the other man, and made a note of it in his ledger. 'Are you an engineer?' inquired the other, who seemed to be the head of the office. 'Not as such,' said Karl quickly, 'but ' 'All right,' said the gentleman, even more quickly, 'then you've come to the wrong place. I'd ask you to pay attention to the sign.' Karl gritted his teeth, the gentleman must have noticed it, because he said: 'No cause for disquiet. We can use everyone.' And he beckoned to one of the servants who were going around unoccupied between the barriers: 'Would you lead this gentleman to the office for people with technical qualifications.' The servant took the command literally, and took Karl by the hand. They went between many booths, in one of which Karl saw one of the lads, already taken on, thanking the gentleman there with a handshake. In the office where Karl was brought, as he had antic.i.p.ated, the same thing happened. Only from here, having heard that he'd been to a secondary school, he was taken to the office for former secondary schoolboys. But then, when Karl said he'd been to a secondary school in Europe, they declared this wasn't the right place either, and had him brought to the office for people who had attended secondary school in Europe. This was a booth on the very periphery, not merely smaller than all the others, but lower too. The servant who brought him there was livid about his long errand, and the many referrals, for which in his opinion Karl bore sole responsibility. He wouldn't wait for any questions here, but dashed off at once. This office seemed to be the end of the line anyway. When Karl saw the head of the office, he was alarmed by his close resemblance to one of his former teachers, who was probably still teaching at the secondary school back home. The resemblance, however, on closer inspection, turned out to be a matter of details only, but the spectacles perched on the broad nose, the beautifully trimmed blond beard, the gentle curve of the back, and the surprisingly loud voice all kept Karl in amazement for a while yet. Luckily, he didn't have to pay much attention, because the procedure here was much simpler than in the other offices. Here too, however, they noted that his legitimation papers were missing, and the head of the office referred to it as extraordinarily negligent of him, but the secretary, who had the whip hand here, glossed over it, and after a few short questions from the head, and while he was just gathering himself for a major question, he declared that Karl had been taken on. The head of the office turned to the secretary open-mouthed, but he merely made a dismissive gesture, said: 'Hired,' and immediately entered the decision in his ledger. Evidently the secretary was of the opinion that coming from a secondary school in Europe was something so lowly that anyone claiming to fall in that category could be taken at his word. Karl for his part was nothing loath, and went up to him to thank him. But there was one further delay, when he was asked for his name. He didn't reply right away, he was reluctant to give his real name and have that entered. If he got the smallest job, and was able to perform that satisfactorily, then he would happily divulge his name, but not now, he had kept it secret for too long to betray it now. Therefore, as nothing else came to mind just then, he gave what had been his nickname on his last jobs: 'Negro.' 'Negro?' asked the boss, turning his head and pulling a face, as though Karl had now reached the height of preposterousness. The secretary too looked at Karl a while, but then he repeated 'Negro' and wrote it down. 'You didn't write down Negro, did you,' the boss shouted at him. 'Yes, Negro,' said the secretary placidly, and gestured to the boss to conclude the formalities. The boss restrained himself, stood up and said: 'I hereby proclaim that the Theatre of Oklahoma ' But he got no further, he couldn't violate his conscience, sat down, and said: 'His name is not Negro.' The secretary raised his eyebrows,