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'Polly!' he bellowed, 'Polly, the money's still there!'

'Anna is my name,' said she, cold and hard.

He repeated: 'Polly!' Her voice moved him deeply, his outspread hands rolled themselves into fists; the tenderest emotions overcame him. "What's a good father to have for his dinner to-day?' he complained.

'Nothing.'

'Polly must cook him something.'

'Anna! Anna!' screamed the girl.

Suddenly she darted up, gave him a push, enough to knock over any other father — even he noticed it — ran into the closet (the communicating door was in splinters, otherwise she would have locked him in), jumped on the bed, shoes and all, so as to be taller than him, and screamed: 'It'll cost you your head! Polly's short for police! My mother'll have your head!'

He understood. She was threatening to inform against him. His offspring wanted to slander him. For whom did he live then? For whom had he kept himself respectable? He'd nourished a viper in his bosom. She belonged on the gallows. He had made a special invention for her so that she should learn something; now, when the world and women were open to him, he stayed with her, out of kindness and because he had a heart of gold. And she pretended he'd done something wrong. She was no daughter of his! The old woman had tricked him. He was no fool to discipline her like he had. He'd had a fishy smell in his nose. Sixteen years he'd thrown money away on someone else's daughter. He could have bought a house for less. From year to year humanity deteriorated. Soon they'd abolish the police and criminals would have it all their own way. The State will say: No more pensions: and the whole world goes under! Human nature! Criminals spreading day by day, what'll happen to God Almighty!

Rarely did he rise to the height of God Almighty. He had respect for the all-highest position which belonged to him. God Almighty was greater even than the head of the police. All the more was he struck by the danger in which God found himself to-day. It was all very well to lift his step-daughter off the bed and beat her bloody. He took no real pleasure in it. He worked mechanically and what he said was full of grief and deep regret. His blows belied his voice. He had lost all desire to bellow. By mistake he referred once to a certain Polly. But his muscles made up for the mistake immediately. The name of the female he was disciplining was Anna. She claimed to be identical with a daughter of his. He did not believe her. Her hair came out in handfuls and when she defended herself two of her fingers got broken. She mouthed something about his head, like a common butcher. She abused the police. It was plain that the best education could not prevail against a corrupt nature. Her mother was no good. She was ill and work-shy. He could send the daughter to join her mother, where she belonged. But he wasn't that kind. He stayed his hand, and went out to eat at a cafe.

From this day they were no more to each other than bodies. Anna cooked and shopped. She avoided the grocer's. She knew the black-haired Franz was in prison. He had stolen for her, but he had been clumsy. A noble knight succeeds in everything. Since she had lost her cigarette she didn t love him any more. Her father's head was as firmly fixed as ever; his eyes begged through the peep-hole for beggars. She showed him her contempt by taking no further notice of his invention. She played truant from his school. Every other day at least his mouth overflowed with new discoveries. She did her work, crouched next to him, listened in silence and said not a word. The peep-hole interested her no more. When, with a conciliatory gesture, he offered her a peep, she shook her head, indifferent. There were no more open-hearted talks at the dinner-table. She filled her own plate as well as his, sat down, ate, if only a little, and served him again when she herself had had enough. He treated her just as he had done before. But he missed her fear. Between blows, he said to himself she had no more heart for him. After some months he bought four beautiful Canaries. Three were males; opposite to them, he hung up the smaller cage for the little female. All three sang as if possessed. He praised them ostentatiously. As soon as they began their singing, he let down the covering over his peep-hole, got up and listened to them, standing. His awe did not permit him to clap at the end of their wooing. But he said: 'Bravo!' and turned his marvelling eyes from the little creatures to the girl. He hoped everything from the passionate wooing of the canary birds. But even their song stirred not a ripple on Anna's calm. 

She lived for several more years as her father's servant and woman. He flourished: his muscular strength increased rather than decreased. But it was not true happiness. He told himself so daily. Even at meals he thought of it. She died of consumption, to the great despair of the canaries, who would only take food from her. They survived the disaster. Benedikt Pfaff sold the kitchen furniture and had the back room walled up. In front of the new white distemper he placed a chest. He ate no more in his own home. In the closet, he stayed at his post. He avoided every remembrance of the empty room next door. In there, in front of the stove, he had lost his daughter's heart; to this day he did not know why.

CHAPTER II

TROUSERS

'Well Professor! The noble steed must have his oats. He's a thoroughbred and kicks. At the zoo the lion devours red juicy meat. Whye Because the king of beasts roan like thunder. The grinning gorilla gets his fresh women from the savages. Why? Because the gorilla bursts with muscles of iron. There's justice for you! Look at me, the house pays me nothing. But I'm invaluable. Professor, you were the only man in the world who understood gratitude. Serious undernourishment was relieved by your honorarium, as they say. To conclude, may I humbly ask what you have been doing with yourself, Professor, and remain your humble servant?'

On reaching his closet these were the first words addressed by Benedikt Pfafff to the Professor who was removing the handkerchief tied over his eyes. He excused himself and paid what he had omitted, namely the honorarium for two months.

'As to the conditions obtaining on the upper floor, we know where we stand,' he said.

'I should think so!' winked Pfaff, partly because of Thérèse, but chiefly on account of his own rights which, though much crumpled, he had now secured.

'While you attend to the thorough cleaning of my flat, I will collect myself here in quiet. Work is urgent.'

'The whole closet is at your disposal! Make yourself at home here, Professor ! A woman may come between the best of men. But between such friends as us there is no such person as a certain Thérèse.'

'I know, I know,' interrupted Kien hastily.

'Let me have my say out, Professor! Women are muck! My daughter now, she was different!'

He pointed to the chest as though she were inside it. Then he formulated his terms. He was only numan and would take over the cleaning of the flat above. There was a lot to clean. He would have to engage several charwomen and take command of them. He couldn't stand for desertion, desertion and perjury were one and the same crime. During his absence the Professor must take his place at the vital spot of the house.

Less from a sense of duty than from a desire for power he was determined to force Kien on to his knees for a little time. His daughter was going round and round in his head to-day. Since she was dead the Professor must take her place. He was bursting with arguments. He declared to him how honourably and truly they loved each other. He made him a present of the whole closet with all its movables. Only a minute or two back he had merely placed it at his disposal. As for a daily payment, since his friend was living with him, he indignantly refused it. In the shortest possible time he had fitted up a bell which connected the closet with the library on the .fourth floor. In suspicious cases the Professor had only to press the button. The suspect, all unknowing, would climb the stairs. Down towards him would come his punishment and meet him half-way. Every eventuality was arranged for him.

Already on the late afternoon of the same day, Kien took over his new office. He crouched on his knees and watched through the peep hole the comings and goings of a thickly populated house. His eyes yearned for work. Long idleness had demoralized them. So as to employ both of them and to give neither a preference, he changed over from time to time. His sense of accuracy was reawakened. Five minutes for each eye seemed to him reasonable. He placed his watch before him on the floor and kept to it strictly. His right eye showed a tendency to take advantage at the expense of his left. He held it under stern control. As soon as the precise timing had become second nature to him, he put his watch back in his pocket. The commonplace objects out there which came into his line of vision seemed to him slightly unworthy. The truth was they were all alike. Between one pair of trousers and another there were but minor differences. Since he had never taken any notice of the inhabitants of the house at an earlier time, he couldn't imagine their shapes complete. Trousers were to him simply trousers and he felt himself at a loss. But they had one pleasing quality which he held to their credit: he could look at them. Far more often skirts passed by, and these annoyed him. Both their size and their number usurped for them more space than they deserved. He decided to ignore them. His hands involuntarily turned pages as if he were holding a picture book in them and sharing out the work for his eyes. The pages turned more slowly or more fast according to the speed with which the trousers went by. When skirts came his hands were infected with the distaste of their master; they turned over two pages at a time of what he did not want to read. In this way he very often lost several pages at once, but he did not regret it, for who could tell what might be lurking behind them?

Gradually the monotony of the world soothed him. The great excitement of the past day paled. Among the striding legs coming and going, that particular hallucination was rarely to be seen. There was no sign of that blue colour. The forbidden skirts which he ignored attempted varying colours. That special and unmistakable blue, shrill, insulting and vulgar, was worn by no one. The reason for this fact, which, looked upon statistically, seemed miraculous, was simple. An hallucination continues for as long as it is not contested. It is only necessary to have the strength to face the danger. It is only necessary to fill the consciousness with the image one fears. It is only necessary to make out the warrant against the hallucination and keep it ready always. Then reality must be faced and searched for the hallucination. If the hallucination is to be found anywhere in the physical world, it is then evident that you have gone mad and must undergo proper treatment. But if the blue skirt is nowhere to be found then it has been vanquished. He who is still able to distinguish between reality and imagination is sure of his mental balance. A certainty achieved in circumstances of such difficulty is a certainty for all time.

In the evening the caretaker brought in a meal, which Thérèse had cooked, and charged for it what it would have cost at a restaurant; Kien paid immediately and ate with pleasure. 'How good it tastes!' he said: 'I am satisfied with my work.' They sat next to each other on the bed. 'No one came again, what a day!' sighed Pfaff and ate more than half of the meal, although he had really had enough already. Kien was pleased to see the dish disappearing so fast. Soon he left the remains to the attention of his companion and full of zeal dropped once more on to his knees.

'What's that?' bellowed Pfaff. 'You're getting a taste for it! That's my hole's doing. You've fallen in love. He was beaming, and at every sentence he slapped his thighs. Then he put his plate away, pushed aside the Professor, who was trying to penetrate the darkness, and asked: 'Is everything in order? I'll have a look.' Gloating, he intoned aloud: 'Aha! The Mushroom's up to her old tricks. Come home at eight o'clock. Her husband waits for her. What's she cooked for him? A bit of muck. For years I've been on the look-out for murder. The other one waits outside. Got no guts, that man. I'd choke the life out of her, three times a day. The bitch! There she is waiting for him. Raving mad about her, he is. Her old man hasn't an idea. That's what comes of having no guts! I see everything!'

'But it's dark already,' interjected Kien, at once envious and critical.

The caretaker was overcome by one of his gusts of laughter, and fell full-strength, flat on the floor. One part of him reached under the bed, the other shook the wall. For a long time he stayed in this position. Kien shrank apprehensively into a corner. The closet was full to bursting with imprisoned waves of laughter; he avoided them, he was in their way. In spite of everything he did not feel quite at home here. His solitary afternoon had been far more satisfactory. He needed quiet. This barbarian landsknecht could flourish only among noise. True to type, he got up suddenly, cumbrous as a hippopotamus, and blustered:

'D'you know what my late lamented nickname was when I was in the police? Professor' — he laid his fists on the two thin shoulders — 'you see before you Ginger the Cat! First of all because of my distinguishing colour, and then because I unmask the darkness. I've got eyes! That's the rule with tigers.'

He called on Kien to take the whole bed for himself, and said good night, he would be sleeping upstairs. Last of all, in the doorway, he commended the peep-hole to his special care. People like hitting out in their sleep; even he had once broken the corner of the peep-hole and to his horror had only woken up in the morning. He begged him to be cautious, and to bear the valuable apparatus in mind.

Very tired, irritated at the interruption of his quiet thoughts — he had been alone for three hours before supper — Kien lay down on the bed and yearned for the library,
his
library which he would soon possess again: four lofty halls, the walls from floor to ceiling robed in books, the communicating doors always wide open, no unjust windows, an even illumination from above, a desk full of manuscripts, work, work, thought, thought, China, learned controversies, opinion versus opinion, in quarterlies, spoken without the aid of material lips, Kien victorious, not in a boxing match, but in a match of the wits, peace, peace, the rustle of books, exquisite, no living creature, no shrill-coloured monster, no ramping woman, no skirt. This house purified of the carcase. Her remains removed from near the desk. Modern ventilation to purge any insistent smell out of the books. Even after months, some of them still smelt. Into the incubator with them! The nose, the most dangerous of all organs. Gas masks ease breathing. A dozen of them high above the writing desk. Higher or the dwarf will steal them. Feels for his ridiculous nose. Slip on a gas mask. Two huge, sad eyes. A single penetrating opening. A pity. Change over. Look at the card of instructions. Boxing match between his eyes. Both want to read. Who is in charge here? Someone is snapping his fingers against my eyelids. As a punishment I will shut you both. Pitch dark. Tigers in the night. Beasts dream too. Aristotle knew everything. The first library in the world. A zoological collection. Zoroaster's passion for fire. He was honoured at home. A bad prophet. Prometheus, a devil. The Eagle only eats his liver. Eat his fire too ! Theresianum — sixth floor—flames — books — flight — down the steep stairs — quicker, quicker!— damnation!— congestion — fire! fire! —one for all and all for one —united, united, united — books, books, we are all books — red, red — who has barred the staircase? —I ask. I demand an answer! —Let me through!—I'll blaze the trail for you! — I will throw myself on the foemen's spears — damnation — blue — the skirt — stiff and stark a rock against the sky — across the Milky way — Sirius — dogs bloodhounds — let's bite the granite! Teeth broken jaws blood blood —