The Drinker

by Hans Fallada

  “Elinor!” I cried, “my queen!”

  Just for a moment she started, seeing me there with the landlady in that untidy room; and then this astonishing girl did exactly the right thing, as if she knew everything that had happened: she ran up to me, embraced me, gave me a kiss on the right cheek and a kiss on the left, and cried happily: “Why, it’s pop! Good old boozy pop! Now we can have fun, eh, Mother Schulze? Now we’ll have some champagne!”

  “Champagne,” I cried. “Of course we’ll have champagne. As much as you like. I’ve got lots of money. Elinor, you’re my best girl, you know I love you. You’re my queen, and now we’ll go off on our travels. Elinor, give me another kiss, but right in the middle of the mouth!”

  She did so. I felt her breast against mine, I was happy. At last alcohol had brought me complete happiness. I saw only Elinor, I felt only Elinor, I thought and spoke only Elinor. I did not notice that, despite my stern threat of death, the landlady had long since left the bar-room.

  23

  I do not know how long I had been like that in Elinor’s arms. I had her huge white face with its high-arched eyebrows quite close to mine, it leaned over me—and the whole world sank away. Her eyes, no longer colourless but glittering green, looked at me, and I felt a trembling within me, to the innermost part of my bones. My heart fluttered like a poplar-leaf in the breeze.

  “Oh Elinor, forgive me! I’ve never loved like this before. I never knew that such a thing existed. You make me weak and strong; when your breath touches me I feel as if a storm was blowing through me, blowing away all the dry old leaves of the past. Through you, I have become new again—come, let’s get away from here, let’s get away from the past! We’ll go to the South, where the sun always shines, and the sky’s always blue. White castles on the vine-slopes! That’s where we’ll go! Come with me! I’ve got a little brief-case outside, but there’s enough in it. Come with me as you are, we’ll get away, this very minute. I’m afraid something dreadful will happen if we stay here any longer. They wouldn’t allow you to be with me. Come, let’s go, my relentless paleface, ma reine d’alcool. To you, and long may you live, from the bottom of my heart, I drink to you.”

  I looked at her, beaming. Then, deeply disturbed: “Why don’t we go now?” She passed her hand caressingly, soothingly, through my hair. She was sitting on my lap, she had one arm round my neck, her tenderness hid the world from me.

  She said softly: “We’ll go soon, pop, soon. There’s a train goes from the station at six o’clock. Till then, you must be patient, pop. We’re all right sitting here, aren’t we?”

  I nestled closer to her. I laid my head against her breast, I felt sheltered there, like a child with its mother.

  “Of course we’re all right here. But we’ll go at six o’clock, we’ll travel far, far from here. We’ll never want to see any of this again. In the South, we shall love … we shall always love each other.…”

  She looked into my eyes, so near, it seemed to be one single eye, that became blurred as if I had looked into the sun.

  She whispered close to my ear: “Yes, I will travel with you, pop. But you won’t drink all the time then, will you? I hate men who are always drunk. They disgust me.”

  “I’ll never drink any more, once I’ve got you; not a drop more. You’re better than wine or schnaps. You’re like fire in me. You make the whole world dance. Your health, my queen!”

  “Your health, my old pop! We’ll go travelling. But shall we have enough money for such a long journey? We shan’t want to have to work.”

  “Money?” I asked contemptuously. “Money? Money enough for both of us. Money for all the journeys and the longest life!”

  And I tore the notes out of my pocket. It really was quite a bundle. Elinor took them from my hand, smoothed out the notes and arranged them for counting.

  “Eight hundred and sixty-three marks,” she said at last, and looked at me thoughtfully, with knitted brows. “That’s not very much money, pop. Not enough for us to go on a long journey, and live together without working. Is that all the money you’ve got?”

  For a moment I was somewhat sobered. I passed my hand over my forehead, and looked with aversion at the bundle of dirty scraps that Elinor held in her hand.

  “Somebody’s stolen my money, Elinor,” I said sullenly. “Some scoundrel has stolen from me five times, ten times more money than you’ve got in your hand. And all my things in a cowhide suitcase, and our silver, it’s all gone. Whatever will Magda say?”

  Under her gaze I slowly collected my senses.

  “But it doesn’t matter, Elinor. Put the money away. I don’t want to see it any more. I can get some more from the bank, I can get as much as you want. Tens of thousands! I come in with a cheque, they say to me: ‘Herr Sommer …’ ”

  “So your name’s Sommer?”

  “Yes, Sommer’s my name. Erwin Sommer. Like Sommer-time. If you go travelling with me you’ll have Sommer all the time.”

  I laughed. But she remained serious. She said, “There you are, pop, somebody’s already stolen your money and things. You can’t manage, in your condition. I’ll look after it for you. It’s quite safe if I keep it for you. Here, I’ll put some money in your pocket. You don’t want to be entirely without money, do you, pop? It’s twenty-three marks. If that gets lost, it doesn’t matter so much.…”

  She became more and more insistent. It was ridiculous how seriously she took this silly money.

  “And you’ll promise, won’t you, pop, not to tell anybody that I’m keeping your money for you? Nobody? Whatever happens?”

  “I’ll never tell anybody, Elinor,” I answered, “I swear. But all this is unnecessary. We’re going away at six o’clock.…”

  “Well, you’ve sworn it, pop. You won’t forget. Not a word to anybody, ever. Whatever happens!”

  “Not a word, Elinor!”

  “My good old pop,” she cried and clasped me in her arms. “And now as a reward you shall be allowed to drink out of my mouth!”

  She took a mouthful of kirsch, then she put her lips to mine, I shut my eyes, and from her mouth the kirsch flowed sharp and warm and living into my mouth. It was the sweetest thing I ever experienced. I ceased to exist.

  24

  I wake up, I look around. No, I am not awake, I am still dreaming. What I just saw was a whitewashed room with an iron grill on one of its sides—that is something out of my dream. I lie there with my eyes shut, I try to remember … something happened in the night. Then my left hand remembers. Quite involuntarily it gropes about the floor and now it encounters the cool smoothness of glass. It raises the bottle to my mouth, and I drink again, with eyes shut I drink Black Forest plum-brandy again. I am with Elinor again! I am with Elinor! Life is beginning again, I swing myself higher … I have only been asleep for a short time and now I’m with Elinor again.

  Two, three mouthfuls, and now the bottle is empty. I suck at it, not another drop comes. With a deep sigh I put it down and once again I open my eyes. I see a whitewashed cell, rather dirty, with many inscriptions and obscene drawings scratched on the walls. Very high up on one wall, where it begins to slope, a small barred window. This window is open. Through the opening, I see a pale blue feebly sunlit sky. On its fourth side, this cell has a strong iron-barred grill, exactly like the bars of cages in the Zoo. Outside this grill is a stove, then a door, which is shut. I am imprisoned! I look at my bed. I am lying in my clothes on a miserable iron bedstead, on a straw-bag with a torn blanket. My cell also contains a table, a stool and a terrible stinking bucket. Yes, and the bottle which I have just emptied … I spring up from my bed, I hold the bottle up to the light: there really isn’t a drop in it! Finally I put it away behind the bucket, and while I am doing so, something of the night’s experiences returns …

  I see the untidy dimly-lit bar-room, I see myself, Erwin Sommer, proprietor of a market produce business, a respectable citizen of 41 years old, I see myself grappling with the police, resisting arrest tooth and nail—we
are rolling on the floor, and the stout landlady with the white hair, who had been so frightened of my gun and who now knows I was only pretending to have a gun, is all the time giving me sly kicks and punches, and suddenly pushing her hand in my face, while I am fighting with the police for my liberty, and at the same time, during the fight, I see Elinor watching us struggling, with an unfathomable smile on her face, but she doesn’t lift a finger to help. Neither does she say a word.

  And yet I might perhaps have broken free, for a terror was raging within me that I, a civilised citizen, might be marched off to prison like some nobody, I, a respectable man to whom people raised their hats—in gaol! My desperation gave me such strength, that I might well have wrenched myself free from the sergeant—had it not been for Elinor. At one point of our struggle, perhaps at the very moment when victory was inclining towards me, she was suddenly standing by us with one of my bottles of Black Forest plum-brandy; smiling gently and looking radiantly at me with her pale eyes, she said: “Don’t be upset, pop. The sergeant’ll let you take a bottle of schnaps with you. It’s only for one night, pop, until you’ve got over your jag.”

  That dispelled my fighting spirit, and they easily got the mastery of me. Once again, alcohol and Elinor seduced me (they were probably the same poison: alcohol and Elinor); they had deceived me so often, and led me to my most ignominious defeats, and yet I never seemed to learn. I sold my chances of freedom for a bottle of schnaps, and now, there it stands, behind the stinking bucket, empty. And here I stand, between white-washed walls; here is an iron grill, and up there, near the ceiling, a little window. No Freedom, no Elinor. No schnaps. And suddenly I recall the final scene, the very last of the previous night, such a shameful scene that I clench my fists and grind my teeth.… We had come to terms, the policeman and I. He had had a lot to say about the regulations and so on, but I suppose I had given him trouble enough already, and he was probably frightened I might make more difficulties on the way. He had finally agreed that I should take the bottle of schnaps with me; I carried it in my trousers pocket, the cork loose and ready to be pulled out. In return, I had given my word that I wouldn’t resist him any more, and wouldn’t attempt to escape. Despite that, he had put a little steel chain round my right wrist; perhaps he rather mistrusted a drunken man’s word, and now we are standing in the doorway. I turn and say to Elinor: “Good night, Elinor. Thank you for everything, Elinor.”

  And she answers in an indifferent voice, “Good night, pop. Sleep well”—just as if I were some regular customer going home to bed after his evening pint. Well, with that we’re ready to go, the sergeant and I, when suddenly the landlady calls in a shrill voice: “What about my wine? And my schnaps? And the broken glasses? The drunken old scoundrel hasn’t paid yet, sergeant! He’s not going to get away with that! Let him pay up first!”

  The sergeant looks doubtfully at me, sighs, then asks in a low voice: “Have you got any money?”

  I nod.

  “Pay up then, so I can get home.”

  And aloud: “How much is it?”

  The landlady tots it up, and says, “Sixty-seven marks, including service. Oh yes, and there’s the phone call to the police station, sergeant, that makes altogether sixty-seven marks twenty.”

  I reach in my pocket, I bring out a little money. I reach into the breast-pocket of my jacket, it is empty. Suddenly I remember … I look at Elinor first with a silent question, then pleading, challenging, insisting … Elinor does not look at me. With a faint unfathomable smile she glances at the little pile of change. I have put down on the table. Then her glance slides away and across to the landlady. Elinor’s lips open a little, the smile broadens on her mouth. The landlady has darted over and counts the money in no time.

  “Twenty-three marks!” she shrieks. “You scoundrel! You damned twister, you! First you rob me of my night’s rest and threaten me with a revolver, and then—”

  She goes on abusing me. The sergeant listens, bored and yawning. Finally, as the landlady tries to get at my face again with her claws, he wards her off and says: “That’s enough, now, Frau Schulze.” And to me: “Haven’t you really any money?”

  “No,” I say, and look firmly at Elinor. This time she looks back at me, just as firmly, without a trace of a smile. And now, quick as lightning, the girl does an astonishing thing: she reaches into the neck of her blouse and momentatily draws out the bundle of notes she has taken from me. I see the blue shimmer of the hundred-mark notes. The tip of her tongue appears in the corner of her mouth. She smiles ironically. The bundle of notes disappears again in her bosom. She puts her hand under her breast, lifts it a little so that I see its beautiful full curve, turns away from me, and goes behind the bar.

  Oh, how sly and refined she is: just at the right moment she reminds me of my word, but not quite trusting my word, she reminds me also of the bond of our flesh. Bitter-sweet, with a cold fire, a mistress who has never quite given herself, who would never quite belong to me—the true queen of alcohol!

  “No,” I say with a dry voice, “I’ve no more money on me. But send the bill to my office. My wife will pay it.”

  The landlady turns on me: “Your wife’ll have something better to do than pay a drunkard’s bills! Turn his pockets out, sergeant. Perhaps he’s still got something on him.…”

  “I haven’t,” I say, “but I’ve got a brief-case outside, sergeant. Can I go and fetch it?”

  We fetch the brief-case, containing the purchases I had made at the little health resort. I spread out my purchases: my two suits of parrot-coloured pyjamas, the elegant toilet-set, the French perfume … how long ago is it, since I, with my man-of-the-world jokes, had bought them all from those young girls? Now I’ll never use them! How long ago is it since, on that terrace by the lake, I dined off green eels and burgundy and reflected on what a comfortable life I would lead as a retired businessman? How long? Just a bare twelve hours. And now I’ll never lead that comfortable life! Now I have a chain about my wrist and I am being taken into custody by the police as a common criminal. Oh, farewell, good life!

  “What am I supposed to do with these fine knick-nacks?” the landlady bellows. “Seven pairs of cuticle and nail scissors alone! I can’t use them! I want my money! And these common-looking pyjamas!”

  But one can tell from her voice that this is only a rearguard action; her greed has been awakened.

  “I paid about a hundred marks for it,” I say. “And there’s two bottles of plum-brandy and a bottle of schnaps outside. You can have them as well. Now are you satisfied?”

  She goes on grumbling for a while, but then she calms down.

  “But I’d like to give this bottle of scent to your girl for a tip,” I say, taking it.

  “She can have it, for aught I care,” says the landlady. “I don’t want to stink myself up with that whore’s stuff.”

  But she holds up the gaudy pyjamas to see if they are long enough for her.

  “Elinor!” I call through the bar-room again. I cannot get away from the sergeant because of the chain. “I’ve got a bottle of real French perfume for you here. Come along!”

  “Oh, leave me alone,” she calls back sullenly. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you take him away, sergeant? I want to get to bed.”

  Her brutal lack of consideration for me, now that she has got what she wants, almost takes my breath away. I call sharply across the bar-room, “Aren’t you relying a bit too much on my decency, Elinor?”

  “Take that drunken fool away, sergeant,” she shouts. “I don’t want any more of his gab. He always did make me sick. I hope you keep him in jug for ever!”

  I understood, in a moment I understood. Now my money was safe for her. I had denied possession of it myself. And she no doubt did not have it about her any more, she had hidden it somewhere behind the bar. Now she let the mask fall. I was a disgusting idiot. True enough, I really was. A good thing I still had a bottle of schnaps in my pocket, as a consolation! Supposing the schnaps were to desert me n
ow, as well?

  “Well, come on,” said the sergeant, and pulled at the little chain.

  I followed him without a word. The policeman mounted his bicycle and rode off, slowly for a cyclist, rather quickly for a pedestrian. I trotted beside him. He handed me over at the lock-up in a large village nearby, the same place where I had arrived by train that evening.

  25

  I have moved my bed under the little window and pulled myself up by the iron bars. I see a peaceful sunny country, with meadows, ploughed fields, grazing cattle, and strips of woodland on the horizon. Directly below me is a vegetable garden with a paling fence. An old man is walking along a path, picking green stuff for goats and rabbits and putting it into a sack. He can go where he likes. And I, I am a prisoner! Yesterday all this belonged to me, I could do as I wished with my life. Today, others hold my life in their hands, and I must wait to see what they decide to do with it.

  I let myself fall on the bed. I feel very sick. My head aches. The effect of the few mouthfuls of drink I had just now has gone already. I am thirsty—but whenever shall I be able to quench my thirst again? Today, I tell myself soothingly, today for sure. Today they will let you go again. They only wanted to frighten you. That’s what they do. They put drunkards into a cell for the night, so they can sleep it off and sober up, and then they set them free again. That’s what they’re doing with you too. I don’t bear them any grudge. After all, they’re acting properly enough. I really went too far in that country inn; this warning example, this shot in the air, is quite good for me. Soon the key will turn in the lock and that nice sergeant of last night will come in and say: “Well, Herr Sommer, had a good sleep? Then get out of here—and don’t get into mischief again!”