by Thomas Mann
'My phiz is no excuse for you to go on saying du to me. I'll not speak another word until you stop.'
'By God, prince, I can call you "Your Highness" if you like. But we're colleagues, as I understand it. You're a newcomer?'
'The management had me shown up here,' I replied, 'so that I could choose a free bed. Tomorrow I am to begin my duties in this establishment.'
'As what?'
'That has not yet been decided.'
'Very odd. I work in the kitchen — that is, in the garde-manger where the cold dishes are. The bed you were sitting on is taken. The second one above it is free. What's your nationality?'
'I arrived this evening from Frankfurt.'
'I'm a Croat,' he said in German. 'From Agram. I worked in a restaurant kitchen there, too. But I've been in Paris for three years. Do you know your way around in Paris?'
'What do you mean, "know my way around"?'
'You understand very well. I mean, have you any idea where you can sell that stuff of yours at a decent price?'
'Something will turn up.'
'Not by itself. And it's not smart to carry a find like that around with you for long. If I give you a safe address, shall we split fifty-fifty?'
'What are you talking about, fifty-fifty? And for nothing but an address!'
'Something that a greenhorn like you needs just as much as food. I will tell you that the string of diamonds -'
Here we were interrupted. The door opened and a number of young people came in whose working-hours were over: a liftboy in red-braided grey livery; two messengers in high-necked blue jackets with two rows of gold buttons and gold stripes on their trousers; a half-grown youngster in a blue-striped jacket, who was carrying an apron over his arm and was probably employed in the lower kitchen as pot-washer or something of the sort. Before long they were followed by another bellboy of Bob's class and a youth whose white jacket and black trousers showed he might be a busboy or assistant waiter. They said: 'Merde!' And as there were Germans among them: 'Damnation!' and 'Devil take it!' — imprecations that probably had to do with their day's work, now over. They called up to the man in bed: 'Hello, Stanko, how bad do you feel?' They yawned noisily and at once began to undress. To me they paid very little attention, only saying in jest as though they had expected me: 'Ah, te voilà. Comme nous étions impatients que la boutique deviendrait complète!' One of them confirmed the fact that the upper bunk that Stanko had pointed out was free. I climbed up, put my bag on the appropriate shelf, undressed sitting on the bed, and almost before my head touched the pillow fell into a deep, sweet sleep of youth.
CHAPTER 8
AT almost the same instant several alarm clocks shrilled and rattled; it was six o'clock and still dark; those who were out of bed first turned on the ceiling light. Only Stanko paid no attention to this reveille and stayed where he was. As I felt greatly refreshed and much cheered by my sleep, I was not unduly upset by the annoying crowd of untidy young men yawning, stretching, and pulling their nightshirts over their heads in the narrow space between the bunks. Even the battle for the five washstands — five for seven youths much in need of a wash — was something I did not allow to dim my cheerfulness, despite the fact that the water in the jugs was insufficient and we had to rush out naked into the corridor, one after another, to fetch more from the tap. After I had followed the others in soaping and rinsing, I got only a very wet hand-towel that was no longer much use for drying. By way of compensation, however, I was allowed to share the hot water that the liftboy and busboy had warmed over an alcohol stove, and while I guided my razor with practised strokes over my cheeks and chin, I was allowed to join them in peering into a fragment of mirror they had succeeded in fastening to the window catch.
'Hé, beauté,' Stanko called to me as I came back into the bedroom, hair brushed and face washed, to finish dressing and, like everyone else, to make my bed. 'Hans or Fritz, what's your name?'
'Felix, if that's all right with you,' I replied.
'First-rate. Will you be so kind, Felix, as to bring me a cup of café au lait from the cantine when you're through with breakfast? Otherwise I'll probably get nothing till they bring the gruel up at noon.'
'With pleasure,' I replied. 'I will do it gladly. First I will bring you a cup of coffee and then I will come back in a very short time.'
I said this for two reasons. First, because of the disquieting fact that although my suitcase had a lock I did not have the key, and I was far from happy about leaving Stanko alone with it. Secondly, because I wished to reopen my conversation of yesterday and get, on more reasonable terms, the address he had mentioned.
The spacious cantine des employés opened off the end of the corridor; it was warm there and smelt agreeably of coffee, which the man in charge and his fat and motherly wife were dispensing from two shiny machines behind the buffet. The sugar was set out ready in bowls, and the woman poured in milk and gave each of us a brioche as well. There was a great horde of all kinds of hotel people from various dormitories, including waiters from the main dining-room in blue tailcoats with gold buttons. For the most part they ate and drank standing up, but a few sat at small tables. In accordance with my promise I asked the motherly lady for a cup 'pour le pauvre malade de numéro quatre,' and she handed me one, giving me at the same time the glance and smile I had come to expect. 'Pas encore équipé?' she asked, and I explained my present situation. Then I hurried back to Stanko with the coffee and told him again that I would drop in to talk with him very shortly. He gave an amused snort as I turned away, for he thoroughly understood both of my reasons.
Back in the cantine, I served myself, drank my café au lait, which tasted extremely good, for I had had nothing warm for a long time, and ate my brioche. The room began to empty for it was getting on toward seven o'clock, and presently I was able to make myself comfortable at one of the little oilcloth-covered tables in the company of an elderly, frock-coated commis-de-salle. When he took out a pack of Caporals and lighted one, all I had to do was smile and give the hint of a wink for him to offer them to me. Moreover, when he got up to go — after a short conversation in which I told him about my still uncertain position — he left the still half-filled pack behind as a present.
The after-breakfast taste of the black, aromatic tobacco was most agreeable, but I dared not linger long over it. Instead, I hurried back to my patient. He received me in a bad temper, which I easily recognized as feigned.
'Here again?' he asked crossly. 'What do you want? I have no need of your company. I have a headache and a sore throat and no inclination whatever for chit-chat.'
'So you're not feeling any better?' I said. 'I'm sorry. I was just about to inquire whether you weren't somewhat cheered by the coffee I brought you out of a natural desire to be of service.'
'I know very well why you brought the coffee. I'm not going to get mixed up in your miserable affairs. A simpleton like you will just make a mess of things.'
'It was you,' I replied, 'who started the talk about business. I don't see why I shouldn't keep you company, and leave business out of it. They're not going to pay any attention to me right away and I have more time than I know what to do with. Just accept the idea that I'd like to share some of it with you.'
I sat down on the bed under his, but this had the disadvantage of preventing me from seeing him. That was no way to talk, I found, and I was compelled to get up again.
He said: 'It's some progress that you realize you need me and not the other way about.'
'If I understand you aright,' I replied, 'you are referring to an offer you made yesterday. It's very friendly of you to come back to it. That reveals, however, that you, too, have a certain interest in it.'
'Damn little. A ninny like you will get done out of his loot. How did you get hold of it anyway?'
'By accident. Actually because a happy moment so decreed.'
'That happens. Besides, you may have been born lucky; there's something about you. But show me your trinkets again so I can m
ake a guess at their value.'
Pleased though I was to find him so much softened, I replied: 'I'd rather not, Stanko. If someone came in, it could easily lead to a misunderstanding.'
'Well, it's not really necessary,' he said. 'I saw it all pretty clearly yesterday. Don't get any mistaken ideas about that topaz necklace. It is -'
There was instant proof of how right I had been to anticipate interruptions. A charwoman with pail, rags, and broom came in to mop up the puddles of water in the washroom and to put things straight. As long as she was there, I sat on the lower bed and we did not say a word. Only after she had gone lumbering off in her clattering clogs did I ask him what he had been about to say.
'I, say?' He started to dissemble again. 'You wanted to hear something, but there wasn't anything I wanted to say. At most I was going to advise you not to put your hopes in that topaz necklace you looked at so long and so lovingly yesterday. Stuff like that costs a lot if you buy it at Falize's or Tiffany's, but what you get for it is a laugh.'
'What do you call a laugh?'
'A couple of hundred francs.'
'Well, nevertheless.'
'A nincompoop like you says "nevertheless" to everything! That's what makes me sick. If I could only go with you or take charge of this myself!'
'No, Stanko. How could I take the responsibility of that! You have a temperature, after all, and have to stay in bed.'
'Oh, all right. Besides, even I couldn't get a knight's estate for the comb and brooch. Or even the breast pin, in spite of the sapphire. The best is still the necklace, it's easily worth ten thousand francs. And I wouldn't turn up my nose at one or two of the rings, especially when I remember the ruby and the grey pearl. In short, at a quick guess, the whole lot should be worth eighteen thousand francs.'
'That was just about my own estimate.'
'Imagine that! Have you any idea at all about such things?'
'Yes, I have. The jewellers' windows back home in Frankfurt were always my favourite study. But you probably don't mean that I will get the full eighteen thousand?'
'No, my pet, I don't. But if you knew how to look out for your interests a bit and didn't say "nevertheless" to everything and everybody, you should be able to get a good half of it.'
'Nine thousand francs, then.'
'Ten thousand. As much as the string of diamonds is worth by itself. If you're half-way a man, you won't let it go for less.'
'And where do you advise me to take it?'
'Aha! Now my beautiful friend wants me to make him a present. Now I'm to tie my information to the ninny's nose gratis out of pure affection.'
'Who's talking about gratis, Stanko? Naturally I'm prepared to show my appreciation. Only I consider what you said yesterday about fifty-fifty somewhat extreme.'
'Extreme? In such joint enterprises fifty-fifty is the most natural division in the world, the division by the book. You forget that without me you're as helpless as a fish out of water, and besides that I can always tip off the management.'
'Shame on you, Stanko! One doesn't say things like that, let alone do them. You wouldn't dream of doing it either. I am convinced you would prefer a couple of thousand francs to a tip-off from which you would get nothing.'
'You think you can take care of me with a couple of thousand francs?'
'That's what it comes to in round figures if I generously concede you one third of the ten thousand francs which, in your opinion, I will get. Besides, you ought to be proud of me for looking out for my own interests a bit, and that ought to give you confidence in my ability to stand up to the cutthroat.'
'Come here,' he said, and when I approached he said, softly and clearly:
'Quatre-vingt-douze, rue de l'Echelle au Ciel.'
'Quatre-vingt-douze, rue de -'
'Echelle au Ciel. Can't you hear?'
'What an auspicious name!'
'Even though it's been called that for hundreds of years? Go ahead and take it as a good omen! It's a very quiet little street, only it's a long way off, out beyond the Cimetière de Montmartre. Your best way is up to the Sacré-Cœur, which is easy to see, then go through the Jardin between the church and the cemetery and follow the rue Damrémont in the direction of the boulevard Ney. Before Damrémont runs into Championnet, a little street goes off to the left, rue des Vierges Prudentes, and from it your Échelle branches off. You really can't miss it.'
'What's the man's name?'
'It doesn't matter. He calls himself a clock-maker and he is that, too, among other things. Try not to act too much like a sheep. I only told you the address to get rid of you so I could get some rest. As for my money, just remember I can report you any time.'
He turned his back to me.
'I am really grateful to you, Stanko,' I said, 'and you can be sure you will have no reason to complain of me to the management.'
Thereupon I left, silently repeating the address to myself, I went back to the now completely deserted cantine, for where else was I to spend my time? I had to wait until the people downstairs remembered me. For a good two hours I sat at one of the little tables without permitting myself the slightest impatience, smoked some more of my Caporals, and devoted myself to thought. It was ten by the wall clock in the cantine when I heard a harsh voice in the corridor shouting my name. Before I could get to the door a bellboy appeared there and shouted:
'L'employé Félix Kroull — report to the general manager!'
'That's me, dear friend. Take me with you. Even if it were the President of the Republic, I am quite prepared to appear before him.'
'All the better, dear friend,' he answered my genial speech rather pertly, measuring me with his eyes. 'Be so kind as to follow me.'
We walked down a flight of stairs to the fourth floor, where the corridors were much wider and had red carpets. There he rang for one of the guest lifts that came up that high. We had a while to wait.
'How come the Rhinoceros wants to speak to you himself?' he asked.
'You mean Monsieur Stürzli? Connexions. Personal connexions,' I added. 'Tell me, what makes you call him the Rhinoceros?'
'C'est son sobriquet. Pardon, I didn't invent it.'
'Not at all, I am grateful for any information,' I replied.
The lift had handsome wainscoting, an electric light, and a red satin banquette. At the controls stood a youth in that sand-coloured livery with red braid. He stopped first too high, then much too low, and let us clamber up over the resulting step.
'Tu n'apprendras jamais, Eustache,' said my guide, 'de manier cette gondole.'
'Pour toi je m'échaufferais!' the other replied rudely.
This displeased me and I could not refrain from saying: 'Those who are weak ought not to show their contempt for one another. That does nothing to improve their position in the eyes of the strong.'
'Tiens,' said the man I had reprimanded. 'Un philosophe!'
Now we were down, and as we walked from the lift at one side of the lobby past the reception desk, I could not fail to notice how the bellboy glanced at me repeatedly and curiously out of the corner of his eye. I was always pleased when I made an impression not simply by my attractive appearance but by my intellectual gifts as well.
The private office of the general manager was beyond the reception desk on a corridor that also led, as I saw, to billiard-rooms and reading-rooms. My guide knocked cautiously, was answered by a grunt from inside, and opened the door. With a bow he ushered me in, his cap at his thigh.
Herr Stürzli was a very fat man with a pointed grey beard for which there hardly seemed room on his bulging double chin. He was seated at his desk looking through papers and at first he paid no attention to me. His appearance immediately explained his nickname among the staff, for not only was his back massively arched and his neck larded in fatty folds, but from the end of his nose there actually protruded a horny wart that confirmed his right to the appellation. By contrast, his hands, with which he was sorting the papers into orderly piles of equal size, were astonishingl
y small and delicate in proportion to his over-all bulk. Despite his size there was nothing awkward about him; on the contrary, as sometimes happens with corpulent people he possessed a certain elegance of movement.
'So you are the young man,' he said in German with a slight Swiss accent, still busily sorting his papers, 'who was recommended to me by a friend — Krull, if I am not mistaken — c'est ça — the young man who wishes to work for us?'
'Exactly as you say, Herr Generaldirektor,' I replied, discreetly drawing somewhat closer — and as I did so I observed, not for the first time nor the last, a strange phenomenon. When he looked me in the eye his face was contorted by an expression of revulsion which, as I understood perfectly well, was simply a consequence of my youthful beauty. By this I mean that those men whose interest is wholly concentrated in women, as was no doubt the case with Monsieur Stürzli with his enterprising imperial and his gallant embonpoint, when they encounter what is sensually attractive in a person of their own sex often suffer a curious embarrassment at their own impulses. This is due to the fact that the boundary line between the sensual in its most general and in its more specific sense is not easy to draw; constitutionally, however, these men are revolted at any hint of correspondence between this specific sense and their own desires; the result is just this reaction, this grimace of revulsion. Any sort of serious consequence is, of course, out of the question, for the person involved will politely assume the blame for the wavering of this sensual boundary rather than hold it against the innocent who made him conscious of it. He will therefore not attempt to avenge his embarrassment. Nor did Monsieur Stürzli do so in this instance, especially since, confronted by his confusion, I lowered my eyelashes in sincere and decorous modesty. On the contrary, he became very sociable and inquired:
