Eva had to use compulsion in order to be present when Herbert Wischow settles things with Franz. Emil is also there, the affair has cost them a cool thousand.
“Well, Franz,” starts Herbert, “well. I guess you’re about fixed now. Now y’can get up, and then-whatcha goin’ to do? Been thinkin’ about that?” Franz turns his stubbly face towards him. “Say, lemme get on my pins first.” “Oh well, we won’t hurry you, don’t think that. With me you’re still in good hands. Why didn’cha come to see us any more? You been out of Tegel a year now.” “Not that long.” “Well, then half a year. Don’t want to see us, maybe?”
The house, the sliding roofs, a high, dark courtyard, there comes a call like thunder’s peal, tra-la-la-la-la-la-la, that’s how it all started. Franz lies down on his back and looks at the ceiling: “Been peddlin’ papers. What you drivin’ at?”
Emil joins in, shouting: “Listen, y’weren’t peddlin’ papers.” What a liar. Eva keeps trying to calm him. Franz notices there’s something in the wind, they know something, just what do they know? “I been peddlin’ papers. Ask Meck.” Wischow: “What Meck’ll say, I can imagine that right now. You peddled papers. Pums’s people peddle fruit, too, a little bit. They ,lisa deal in flounders; you know that yourself, doncha?” “But not me. I was peddlin’ papers. I earned my money. Ask Cilly who was with me the whole day, what I did.” “Two or three marks a day, go on!” “Oh, it’s more than that; it was enough for me anyway, Herbert.”
The others are uncertain. Eva sits down next to Franz. “Say, Franz, you knew Pums, didn’t you?” “Yes.” Franz no longer thinks, they’re questioning me, Franz remembers, he’s alive. “Well, and?” Eva strokes him: “Go ahead and tell us what you were doing with Pums.” Herbert, beside her, bursts out: “Go ahead and let’s hear it, ole boy. I know, anyway, what you were doin’ with Pums. Where you were that night. You think I don’t know it. Well, all right, you went along. It’s none of my business. It’s your affair. You go to see them folks, that’s the kind y’want La know, that ole sap, that ole fool, and us-you never come near us.” Emil shouts: “Y’see we’re only all right when-” Herbert gives him a signal. Franz is crying. It’s not as bad as in the hospital, but it’s terrible, too. He sobs and weeps and rocks his head to and fro. He got a blow on the head, they gave him a kick on the chest; then they threw him through the door in front of an auto that ran over him. His arm is gone. He’s a cripple. The two men leave. He keeps on sobbing. Eva wipes his face time and again with the towel. She watches him; be’s sleeping, she thinks. Then he opens his eyes, wide awake, and says: “Tell Herbert and Emil to come on in.”
They come in with abashed faces. Franz asks: “What d’ye know about Pums? Know anything about him?” The three others exchange glances and don’t understand. Eva taps his arm: “Why, Franz, you know him, too.” “Well, I want to know, what you know about him.” Emil: “That he is a real crook and he’s got only five years hard behind him in Sonnenburg, he should have had life or fifteen, anyhow. Him and his fruit wagons.” Franz: “Why, he don’t live off of fruit wagons.” “Nope, he eats meat, too, so he does, and a-plenty.” Herbert: “But my God, Franz, you’re not as dumb as all that, y’know that yourself, can’t you spot that in looking at the man?” Franz: “I thought he made his living offa the fruit-trade.” “Well, and what didja want to do then Sunday, when y’went with him?” “We went to fetch fruit for the market.” Franz lies quite still. Herbert bends over him La see his features: “And you believed that?”
Franz is crying again, very quietly now, with his mouth shut. He went down the stairs, a man was looking for addresses in his notebook, then he was at Pums’s house and Frau Pums was to send a note to Cilly. “Of course, I believed ‘em. But then I noticed, they got me to stand watch, and then-”
The three look at each other. What Franz says is true, but that’s incredible. Eva touches his arm: “And then?” Franz has his mouth open, say it now, it’s going to come out now, it’ll be over soon. And he says: “Then I didn’t want to, and then they kicked me out of the auto, because another car was coming right in back of us.”
Hush, don’t say any more, and I was run over, I might have been dead, too, they wanted to finish me. He doesn’t sob, but holds onto himself steadily, his teeth clenched and his legs stretched out.
The three hear it. Now he’s told it. It’s the naked truth. At this moment all three know it. There is a mower death yclept, has power which the Lord has kept.
Herbert asks: “But tell me, Franz, we’ll be going soon; y’didn’t come to see us because y’wanted to sell newspapers?”
He cannot speak but thinks to himself: Yes, I wanted to stay decent. I did stay decent till the end. So you mustn’t get offended that I didn’t come around. You remained my friends, I didn’t betray any of you. He lies mute; they go out.
Then, after Franz has taken another dose of his soporific, they sit downstairs in the cafe, speechless. They don’t look at each other. Eva is trembling like a leaf. The girlie would have liked to have Franz, while he was still going with Ida, but he didn’t leave Ida, despite the fact that she was already keen on the Breslau fellow. She gets on fine with her Herbert, and has everything she wants from him-but she’s still in love with Franz.
Wischow orders hot grogs in a hurry, all three of them pour it down at once. Then Wischow orders another round. Their throats are still tight. Eva has icy hands and feet. every minute a cold shiver runs down the back of her head and neck, even her thighs have grown cold, and she crosses her legs. Emil leans his head heavily on his arms, chews, sucks at his longue and swallows his saliva, but then he can’t help sniffing up his nose and spitting on the floor. Young Herbert Wischow sits erect on his chair, as if on horseback; he looks like a lieutenant in front of his platoon, his face motionless. None of them is sitting here in this place, they are not in their skins, Eva’s name is not Eva, Wischow’s not Wischow, Emil’s not Emil. A wall around them has tumbled, different air, darkness comes pouring in. They are still sitting beside Franz’s bed. A shudder goes from them to Franz’s bed.
There is a mower death yclept. Has power which the Lord hath kept. When he ‘gins his scythe to whet, keener it grows and keener yet.
Herbert turns around to the table and asks hoarsely: “Who was it, ,lnyway?” Emil: “Whaddya mean?” Herbert: “Who threw him out?” I:va: “Promise me one thing, Herbert, if you get that man.” “Don’t you worry! Imagine, a thing like that running around loose. But just wait.” Emil: “Say, my God, Herbert, can you imagine anything like that, now!”
Mustn’t hear anything about it, not think about it at all. Eva’s knees are trembling, she begs: “Herbert, go ahead and do something, or you, Emil. “ Let’s get some fresh air! There is a mower, death yclept. Herbert concludes: “What kin a guy do if he don’t know what’s up. First, we’ll find out what it’s all about. If worst comes to the worst, we’ll let Pums’s whole gang of crooks get theirs.” Eva: “And Franz along with them?” “If worst comes to the worst. I said, we’ll do that. Franz wasn’t with ‘em, not really, il blind man kin see that, any judge would believe him. It can be proved, 100; they threw him in front of the auto. Otherwise they wouldn’ta done it.” He starts back. The dirty dogs! Think of it. Eva: “Maybe he’ll tell me who it is.”
But he lies there like a log, Franz does, and they can’t get anything out of him. Let him rest, let him rest! His arm is gone, it won’t grow again. They kicked me out of that car, they did leave me my head, however. We gotta start going, we gotta see it through and get the wagon out of the mud. Gotta learn to crawl first.
With surprising speed, he comes to life again on these warm days. He is not supposed to get up yet, but he gets up, and it’s all right. Herbert and Eva, who are always flush, supply him with whatever he wants and what the doctor thinks is necessary for him. Franz wants to get on his feet, he eats and drinks everything they bring him, and doesn’t ask where they get the money from.
In the meantime, there are conve
rsations between him and the others, but nothing of importance, they don’t touch the Pums affair. They talk about Tegel and a great deal about Ida. They speak of her with esteem and regret that things should have gone the way they did with her, she was still so young, but Eva adds: The girl was on the down-grade. Things between them are now just as they were before Tegel, and nobody knows or mentions the fact that in the meantime the houses have wobbled and the roofs have nearly slid down, and Franz has sung in the courtyard and has sworn, as sure as his name is Franz Biberkopf, that he meant to stay decent, and that the old days were finished and over with.
Franz lies or sits quietly with them. A lot of old acquaintances come also, bringing their girls and wives along. They don’t mention anything, they talk with Franz as if he had just been discharged from Tegel and had had an accident. Where or how, the lads don’t ask. They know what an industrial accident is, can well imagine what it is. A fellow gets in a jam, and first thing he knows he’s got a grape in his arm or has his legs broken. Well, it’s better anyhow than the watery soup at Sonnenburg, or croaking from consumption. That’s clear enough.
Meantime Pums’s gang has smelled out where Franz is. Who fetched Franz’s bag? They quickly found that out, and don’t they know that guy! And before Wischow notices anything, they learn that Franz Biberkopf is staying with him; why, isn’t he his friend from the old days, he only lost an arm in the affair, damned lucky he was, too, there’s no two ways about it, so the fellow is on his feet again, and, who knows, he might squeal on them? In fact, they all but fell out with Reinhold, for being such a sap and bringing a fellow like Franz Biberkopf into the gang. But as for really doing anything to Reinhold, they didn’t before and surely won’t now, even old Pums won’t get at that one. That lad has a way of looking at you, it’s enough to frighten you, with his yellow fare and the wrinkles across his forehead. He’s not healthy, he won’t live to be fifty, but the fellows who have got something wrong with them, they’re the most dangerous of all. Some day he’d just as lief stick his hand in his pocket, smiling coldly the while, and pepper away at somebody.
That business about Franz, his not getting killed, however, remains dangerous. Only Reinhold shakes his head and says: Don’t get excited. Biberkopf’ll take good care not to show up here. It’ll only be if he can’t get along with his one arm, then he’ll turn up. Well, what do we care? Maybe he’s got a head to lose, too.
They needn’t be afraid of Franz. Once, to be sure, Eva and Emil together give Franz a talking-to, he has to say where it was and who it was, and, if he can’t act alone, there’ll be a few to help. A lot of people in Berlin would help in a case like that. Franz, however, grows tongue-tied when they come to him with that stuff, says No, just let it drop. Then he turns pale, breathes heavily, if only he doesn’t start to cry again, if I could, I’d like to go clean away from Berlin, but what can a cripple do? Eva: “It’s not on account of that, Franz, you’re not a cripple; but we can’t let that pass, the way they fixed you up, throwin’ you out of the car.” “That won’t make my arm grow, either.” “Well, then they oughta cough up.” “What?”
Emil starts explaining: “Either we bash that certain fellow’s skull in, Or the fellows in his club, if he’s got one, have all got to pay you. We’ll fix that up with the club. Either others jump in for him, or Pums and the dub can kick him out, and then let’s see where they can join up again and how they’ll get it in the neck. That arm’s gotta be paid for. It’s the right one, too. They gotta pay you a pension for it.” Franz shakes his head. “Whaddya mean shakin’ your head? We’ll knock the fellow’s brains out who did this; it’s a crime and if we can’t go to court with it, it’s up to us to settle it.” Eva: “Franz didn’t belong to any club, Emil. Did’ncha hear he didn’t want to go along at all, and that’s why they did it.” “That was his privilege, he didn’t have to go. Since when can people force a fellow to do anything? Are we civilized people or not? They’d better go live with the Indians.”
Franz shakes his head: “What you’ve paid out for me, you’ll get back, every pfennig of it.” “Oh, we don’t want it, don’t need it, we can get along without it. This thing’s got to be fixed up, what the devil! No, sir, we can’t let it go at that.”
Eva, too, is resolute: “No, Franz, we gotta do something about it, those fellows knocked your nerves to pieces, that’s why you don’t say anything. But you can depend on us: Pums didn’t knock our nerves to pieces. You oughta bear what Herbert says: There’s gonna be a carving up in Berlin some day that’ll make people sit up and take notice.” Emil nods: “Bet your life on thal.”
Franz Biberkopf looks straight ahead and thinks to himself: None of my business what they say. And if they do something, it isn’t my business either. That won’t make my arm grow again, and that’s true all right: my arm sure is gone. It had to come off, no use bellyaching. But that’s not the last of it.
And he reflects, and reflects, how everything happened: Reinhold had a spite against him, because he didn’t take that jane off his hands, and that’s why he kicked him out of the car. So there he lies in the clinic at Magdeburg. And he wanted to stay respectable, and that’s how it turned out. And he stretches out in his bed and clenches his fist on the covers: that’s how it came about, just so. Well, we’ll see about it. We certainly will.
And Franz doesn’t betray who it was threw him in front of the car. His friends are quiet. They think he’ll ten it yet some day.
Franz is not K.O. and they can’t get him K.O.
Pums’s gang, flush with money, have vanished from Berlin. Two of them are away on a jaunt in the Oranienburg district, at their summer quarters, while Pums is taking the cure at Altheide on account of his asthma, getting his machine oiled up. Reinhold tipples a bit, every day a few little nips of brandy, in fact, the man is enjoying things and getting used to it, a fellow has to get something out of life sometimes and he discovers he was quite silly to have lived so long without it, only on coffee and lemonade, that’s not living at all! Reinhold has a few thousand marks lying around, but nobody knows that. He would like to do something with the money, but at first he can’t decide what. Certainly not go to that summer dump like the others. He’s just picked up a fine dame who once saw better days, and he rents a swell house in Nurnberger Strasse for her, so he can dig himself in there when he wants to play the grand mogul or perhaps when things get hot. Everything’s in fine shape, he has his regal place in the West End and, of course, on the side, the old joint, too, with a jane in it, every few weeks another one. The boy can’t get along without his little game.
Then it so happens, at the end of May, that a couple of men from Pums’s gang meet again in Berlin and start chattering about Franz Biberkopf. They’ve heard there’s been some talk in the club about him. Herbert Wischow is getting people all het up against them, we’re a pack of swine, they say. Biberkopf didn’t want to help us in that affair at all, they say, and then we tried to use force, and afterwards we kicked him out of the car. So we let them know: he wanted to squeal on us, there was no question about using force, nobody grabbed him, but afterwards we couldn’t do anything else. There they sit, shaking their heads, none of them wants In have a row with the club. A fellow’s hands would be tied that way and then he’d be left out in the cold. And then they suggest this, we ought to show our good will and take up a collection for Franz, since he showed in I he end that he was a decent fellow all right, we ought to help him get a good rest, and put up the money it cost him in the hospital; we oughtn’t to act shabby about it.
Reinhold is adamant: We gotta kill that fellow dead. The others are not against the idea, really not at all, but there isn’t anyone of them ready to do a thing like that, moreover it won’t hurt to let the poor boob go around with his one arm, You can’t tell how it will end once you start anything with a fellow like that, the man’s got the luck of the devil himself. Well, they collect the money, a couple of hundred marks, only Reinhold doesn’t give a pfennig, and one of them is to
go to see Biberkopf, but not when Herbert Wischow is around.
Franz is quietly reading first the Mottenpost and then the Grüne Post, he likes it best because there’s no politics in it. He studies the number for November 27, 1927, it’s an old number, dating from before Christmas, that was the time of Polish Lina, wonder what she’s doing? It tells here in the paper about the ex-Kaiser’s new brother-in-law getting married, the princess is 61, the bridegroom 27, that’ll cost her a heap of gold, for he won’t become a prince. Bullet-proof armored vests for police officers, I’ll never believe that.
All of a sudden, there’s Eva squabbling outside with somebody, somebody, well, well, don’t I know that voice. She doesn’t want to let him in, better peep out and see. Franz opens the door, his Grune Post in his hand. It’s Schreiber, one of Pums’s men.
Well, well, what’s the matter? Eva shouts into the room: “Franz, he’s only come here because he knows Herbert isn’t around.’: “What do you want, Schreiber, something out of me, what do you want?” “Told Eva and she won’t let me in. Why nor. are you a prisoner here?” “No, I’m not” Eva: “You’re afraid he’ll squeal on you. Don’t let him in, Franz.” Franz: “Now what do you want, Schreiber? Come on in with him, Eva, let him in.”
They are sitting in Franz’s room. The Grüne Post is lying on the table, the new brother-in-law of the ex-Kaiser is getting married, two men behind him are holding the crown over his head. Lion-hunting, rabbit-hunting, to truth all honor. “Why do you want to give me any money? I wasn’t in with you on that job.” “Why, good Lord, you stood watch, didn’t you?” “Nope, Schreiber, I didn’t, I didn’t know a thing, you just stuck me there; I didn’t know what I was supposed to do there.” Ain’t I glad to be out of that, no need to stand in that dark courtyard any longer. I’d pay him something not to have to stand there any more. “Nope, that’s all bunk, and you needn’t be afraid of me, I never squealed on anybody in my life.” Eva shakes her fist at Schreiber: There are others watching, I tell you, you’re taking a risk to come up here. Herbert’ll show you a thing or two.
Berlin Alexanderplatz Page 25
