Berlin Alexanderplatz: The Story of Franz Biberkopf (14 page)

And as regards Frau Minna, Ida’s sister, she is doing well, thank you for asking. It is now 11.20, she is just leaving the Ackerstrasse Market, a yellow municipal building, which has also an exit on the Invalidenstrasse. But she chooses the Ackerstrasse exit because it is nearer for her. She is carrying cauliflowers and pig’s-head, also some celery. In front of the market she buys something else from a wagon: a big fat flounder and a bag of camomile tea, you never can tell, you may need it any day.

THIRD BOOK

Here Franz Biberkopf, who is a respectable, good-natured man, suffers his first blow. He is deceived. The blow carries.

Biberkopf has vowed to become respectable and you have seen how he stayed straight for many a week, but it was only a respite, so to speak. In the end life finds thi s going too far, and trips him up with a wily jar. To him, Franz Biberkopf, however, this doesn’t seem a very sporting trick, and, for a considerable time, he finds this sordid, draggle-tailed existence, which contradicts his every good intention, a bit too thick.

Why life acts this way, he does not understand. He still has a long way to go before he will see it.

Yesterday upon proud Steeds we rode

With Christmas coming on, Franz makes a change, doing business in all kinds of occasional articles. He gives a few hours in the morning or the afternoon to shoe-laces, first by himself, then later with Otto Lüders. The latter has been out of work for two years, and his wife takes in washing. Stout Lina got them together, Otto being Fatty’s uncle. In the summer he had worked for a few weeks as a Rüdersdorfer Peppermint Man with a plumed hat and a uniform. Franz and he do the streets together, enter houses, ring bells, then meet afterwards.

One day Franz Biberkopf arrives at the cafe. Fat Lina is also there. He is in an especially good humor. He gulps the fat girl’s sandwiches down and while still chewing away, gives another order for pig’s ears and peas for the three of them. He squeezes fat Lina so hard that she waddles off after the pig’s ears with her face flaming red. “Good thing Fatty’s going, Otto.” “She’s got a place of her own, hasn’t she? Always traipsing around after you.”

Franz leans over the table, looks up at Lüders: “Say, Otto, what do you think has happened?” “Well, what?” “Well, shoot.” “Well, what is it?”

Two light beers and a lemonade. A new customer comes puffing into the place, wipes his nose on the back of his hand, coughs: “Cup of coffee.” “With sugar?” The proprietor rinses the glasses. “Nope, but make it quick.”

A youngster with a brown sport cap walks through the place looking for somebody, warms himself at the big stove, looks around at Franz’s table, then at the next one: “Have you seen a man with a black overcoat, brown collar, fur collar?” “Here often?” “Yep.” The older man at the table turns his head to the pale man next to him: “Brown fur?” The latter gruffly: “Lots of ‘em come here with brown fur on.” The gray-haired man: “Where do you come from? Who sent you?” “What difference does that make? As long as you didn’t see him.” “Lots of men come here with brown fur coats. We have to know who sent you.” “But I don’t have to tell you my business.” The pale man gets excited: “If you ask a man if somebody’s been here, can’t he ask you who sent you here?”

The customer is already standing at the next table: “If I ask him, it’s none of his business who I am.” “All right, if you ask him, he certainly can ask you back. You don’t have to ask him, do you?” “I don’t have to tell him what kind of business I’m in.” “Then he don’t have to tell you if anybody was here.”

The customer goes to the door, turns around: “If you’re that clever then just stay that way.” He turns around, opens the door brusquely, is gone.

The two at the table: “Do you know him? I don’t know him at all.” “He never comes here. Who knows what he wants?” “A Bavarian.” “That chap? A Rhinelander. From the Rhineland.”

Franz grins at the wretched, shivering Lüders: “So you can’t guess. Well, supposing I had some money?” “Well, have you got any?”

Franz has his fist on the table, he opens it, grins proudly: “All right, how much?” Poor, wretched little Lüders is leaning forward, sucking a hollow tooth: “Two tens, the deuce you say.” Franz plunks them on the table. “How about that? Did that in fifteen, in twenty minutes. No longer. Betcha.” “Say, boy.” “Nope, not what you think either, nothing underhanded, nothing shady, no, it ain’t that. Honestly, Otto, I got it decent, in a proper way, you get me.”

They start whispering, Otto Lüders moves closer to him. Franz had stopped in at a woman’s house: Makko shoe-laces, do you need anything for yourself, for hubby, for your little kiddies, she looked at them, then she looked at me, she’s a widow, still in good condition; we were talking in the hallway, then I asked her if I couldn’t get a cup of coffee, terribly cold this year. I drank some coffee, she did too. And then a little bit more. Franz blows through his hand, laughs through his nose, scratches his cheeks, pushes his knee against Otto’s. “I left my whole caboodle with her. Did she notice anything?” “Who?” “Well, the fat girl, of course, who else, because I didn’t bring anything back with me.” “What if she did notice anything, you sold everything, where was it?”

And Franz whistles: “I’ll go there again, but not right away, it’s behind Elsasser, she’s a widow, twenty marks, that’s business for you.” They eat and drink till three, Otto gets a fiver, but doesn’t become any livelier for that.

Who is that slinking through the Rosenthaler Tor next morning with his shoe-laces? Otto Lüders. He waits at Fabisch’s on the corner, till he sees Franz ambling down Brunnenstrasse. Then quickly he goes down Elsasser. Righto, that’s the number. Maybe Franz has been upstairs already. How quietly people walk down the street! I’ll stand in the hallway a bit first. If he comes, I’ll say, what’ll I say, I’ve got heart palpitations. People worry you all day long, and no profit, the doctor don’t find anything the matter, but I’ve got something all right. A fellow gets down and out, in rags like this, always the same old outfit, from the war. Up the stairs he goes.

He rings: “Want some Makko shoe-laces, madam? Nope, just wanted to find out. Say, won’t you listen to me a minute.” She tries to push the door shut, he jams his foot between. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t come for myself, my friend, you know, he was here yesterday, he left his stuff here,” “Oh, Lord.” She opens the door, once inside, Lüders quickly pulls the door to behind him. “Good Lord, what’s the matter?” “Nothing at all, lady. What makes you so dithery?” He’s dithery himself, he got in so suddenly, things are moving, whatever happens, it’ll go all right. He ought to be tender, but his voice fails him, in front of his mouth and under his nose he has a wire netting, that spreads out over his forehead, and his cheeks. If my cheeks get stiff, it’s the end of me. “I just came to get the stuff.” The nice little woman runs into the room, starts to get the package, but he is already in the doorway. She chews and stares: “Here’s the package.” “Thanks, thank you. What makes you so dithery, lady? Why, it’s nice and warm here! It’s real nice and warm here. Can’t you lemme have a cup of coffee, too?” Just remain standing, keep on talking, mustn’t get out, strong as an oak tree.

The woman, who is thin and neat, stands before him, her hands clasped over her abdomen: “Did he tell you anything else? What did he tell you?” “Who, my friend?” Keep on talking, talking all the time, the more you talk, the warmer you get, the netting only tickles now in front, under the nose. “Oh nothing else, nope, what else was there to tell? Why should he talk about the coffee? I got the goods anyway.” “I’m just going into the kitchen.” She’s afraid, what do I care about her coffee, I can make it much better myself, I can get it quicker in the cafe, she’s trying to back out, just wait, we’re not gone yet. But it’s a good thing I’m inside, I slipped in like lightning. But Lüders is afraid, nevertheless, and listens towards the door, the stairs, upstairs. He steps back into the room. Slept damned badly last night, the brat’s always coughing, all night long, I believe I’ll sit down. And he sits down on the red plush sofa.

Here’s where she did it with Franz, now she’s making coffee for me, I guess I’ll take off my hat, my fingers are cold as ice. “Here’s a cup for you.” But still she’s afraid, she’s a pretty little person, really tempts a fellow to try something. “Why don’t you take some, too? To keep me company?” “No, no, my lodger will soon be here, this is his room.” Wants to get rid of me, where does she keep her lodger, there ought to be a bed here. “Is that all? Forget that fellow. A lodger, he won’t come back before noon, hasn’t he got his work? Well, that’s all my friend told me. I’m just supposed to get his stuff.” -He leans forward and contentedly laps up the coffee. “Nice and hot, it’s cold today, what do you think he told me anyway? That you’re a widow - that’s true, ain’t it?” “Yes.” “What about your husband, dead? Killed in the war?” “I’m busy now, must get at my cooking.” “Go ahead, and let me have another cup. Why be in a hurry like that? We’ll be older the next time we see each other. Have you got any children?” “If you’d only go, you got your things, I got no time.” “Now don’t get nasty, I suppose you’re going to get the police, you won’t need ‘em for me, I’ll go, but can’t I finish my coffee? You got no time all of a sudden. The other day you had lots of time, you know what I mean. All right, here’s how, I’m not like that, I’m off.”

He planks his hat on his head, gets up, shoves the little package under his arm, ambles slowly to the door, has already passed her, then he turns quickly around: “All right now, let’s have the small change.” His left hand stretched out, the index-finger coaxing. She holds her hand before her mouth, little Lüders is close upon her. “You better not yell. I suppose you only give something when you’ve had what you want out of a fellow, you see I know all about that. There’s no secrets among friends.” Damned swinishness, she’s an old sow, with her black dress, I’d really like to box her ears for her, she’s no better than my old woman. The woman’s face is flushed, but only on the right side, the left is snow-white. She has her purse in her hand, rummages in it, but looks at little Lüders with scared eyes. Her right hand offers him several pieces of money. Her expression is strained. His index-finger goes on coaxing. She pours the contents of her purse into his hand. But suddenly he goes back to her room, and snatches up the red embroidered cover from the table. She groans, but otherwise does not let out a sound; she can’t get her mouth open any further and stands quite still in the doorway. He grabs two sofa cushions, then rushes into the kitchen, pulls open the cupboard, searches it. A lot of old junk, gotta run, otherwise she’ll start yelling. There she’s toppling over, let’s get out o’ here.

He crosses the hallway, pulls the door slowly to, down the stairs, into the neighboring house.

In my Breast today a Bullet’s Load

Once there was a wonderful Paradise. The waters teemed with fish, out of the soil there sprouted trees, animals played about, beasts of the earth, of the sea, and birds.

A tree rustled. A serpent, serpent, serpent stuck out its head, a serpent dwelt in Paradise, more cunning than all the beasts of the field, and began to speak, to speak to Adam and Eve.

A week later as Franz Biberkopf slowly walks up the stairs with a bouquet wrapped in oiled paper, he thinks of fat Lina and reproaches himself, but not very seriously, stops, she is true as gold, that girl, what are you worrying about. Franz, pshaw, it’s business, business is business. He rings the bell, smiles in anticipation, smirks contentedly, warm coffee, a little doll. There’s somebody walking in there, it’s she. He throws out his chest, presents the bouquet at the wooden door, the chain is put back in place, his heart beats, how’s my necktie, her voice asks: “Who’s there?” He giggles: “The postman.”

Small black door slit, her eyes, he leans tenderly down, smirks happily, wags the nosegay in her direction. Crash. The door is shut, slammed shut. RRRrrr, bolted. The devil! The door is shut. What a nerve! There you got it. That woman must be crazy. Wonder if she recognized me. Brown door, door-frame, here I stand on the staircase, my tie’s all right. That’s unbelievable. Shall I ring again, or not? He looks at his hands, a bouquet just bought at the corner, for a mark, with oil paper wrapping. He rings again, twice, very long. She’s probably still standing at the door, just shut it, she doesn’t move, holds her breath and let’s me stand here. And then she still has my shoe-laces, the whole stock, maybe three marks’ worth, I’ve gotta get ‘em. There’s someone walking inside, now she walks away, she’s in the kitchen. What a-

I guess I’ll go downstairs again. Then up again: I’ll ring again, must find out about that, she couldn’t ‘a’ seen me, or maybe she took me for someone else, for a beggar, lots of ‘em come here. But when he stands in front of the door, he does not ring. He has no sensations. He only waits, stands there. Well, she’s not going to open the door, I just wanted to know. I won’t sell anything in this house any more, what’ll I do with my bouquet, it cost me a whole mark. I’ll throw it into the gutter. Suddenly he rings once more, as if on command, waits calmly, all right, she don’t even come to the door, she knows it’s me. Suppose I leave a note with the neighbors, I must get my stuff again.

He rings next door, nobody there. All right, let’s write a note. Franz goes to the window of the hallway, tears off the white corner of a newspaper and writes with a small pencil: “Since you don’t open, I want my stuff back, to be left at Klaussen’s, corner Elsasser.”

Say, you bitch, if you knew who I am, what one of ‘em got from me once, you wouldn’t. Well, we’ll fix that. I ought to take a hatchet and smash the door open. Softly he slips the note under the door.

Franz remains sullen all the following day. Next morning, before his meeting with Lüders, the saloon-keeper gives him a letter. That’s her. “Anything else left with it?” “No, what else?” “A package, with stuff in it?” “No, a boy brought this last night.” “Well, I’ll be darned, maybe I’m supposed to fetch the stuff myself.”

Two minutes later Franz walks over to the show-window, sinks down onto a wooden footstool, holds the letter in his slack left hand, pinches his lips together, ~tares across the table-top. Poor little Lüders comes in, sees Franz, notices how he’s sitting, there’s something wrong with him, and off he goes.