Wolf Among Wolves (56 page)

“Ma Krupass,” pleaded Petra, for the old woman was again becoming angry.

“Yes, yes, girlie,” she growled, “you can say that safely. It won’t rub the gilt off him, a man’s got to hear that sort of thing now and again, it does him good.”

“Yes, and what am I to do during the six months?”

“Now, girlie”—Frau Krupass was pleased—“that’s the first sensible word you’ve said this evening. Here, come and make yourself comfortable near me on the bed and let’s have a proper talk. We won’t talk any more about men anyway, a real woman shouldn’t talk so much about them, it only gives them swelled heads and they ain’t really so important.… What are you going to do during the year? I’ll tell you. You shall represent me.”

“Oh!” said Petra, a little disappointed.

VI

“Yes, you say, ‘Oh,’ ” said old Frau Krupass quite pleasantly. With a groan she crossed her legs, an action which revealed that she wore not only a very old-fashioned many-pleated skirt (she even had a petticoat underneath it) but also impossibly thick home-knitted woolen stockings—in the middle of summer. “You say, ‘Oh,’ girlie, and you are right. For how is a pretty young thing like you to take the place of an old scarecrow like me? I look like a keeper of a brothel or a flop house, don’t I?”

Petra shook her head with an embarrassed smile.

“But you’re wrong, girlie. And why are you wrong? Because you’ve written out bills in the shoe shop and can add up, and you’ve got eyes in your head that see what they look at. That’s what I told myself as soon as you came into the cell. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘here’s another one who’s got observant eyes, not bleary eyes like the idiots of today who look everywhere and see nothing.’ ”

“Have I really got such eyes?” Petra asked curiously, because her mirror had never given her the impression that her eyes were different from other people’s, and Wolfgang Pagel hadn’t yet said they were, although he had certainly from time to time felt their effect.

“If I say so, then you have,” declared Ma Krupass. “I’ve learned to know eyes in Fruchtstrasse where I’ve got fifty or sixty people running around; they all tell me lies with their mouths, but they can’t lie with their eyes! Well, here am I sitting in this miserable bug-hutch, brooding and wondering how much I’ll get this time; I’d like to think it’ll be three months, but it’ll probably be six.
Killich also says it’ll be six, and Killich seldom makes a mistake; he must know, he’s my lawyer.”

Petra wanted to interpose a question, but the old woman nodded her head vigorously. “That’s all still to come. You’ll get to know everything at its proper time, girlie. And just as you said ‘Oh!’ before, so you can afterwards say ‘No!’; it won’t bother me. Except that you won’t say it.” She seemed so certain and so energetic, and at the same time so kind, that Petra lost all the doubts which such acquiescence in a prison sentence had aroused in her.

“And so here I sit and think,” Frau Krupass continued. “Six months in jail are all very well, and after all I do need some rest—but what’ll happen to the business, especially in times like these? Randolf can be trusted, but he’s weak in arithmetic; and now, when everything runs in millions and him using only slate and chalk—that won’t do, child, you can see that for yourself.”

Petra did see it.

“Yes, so here I sit and worry my head about managers, which is a nice word, except that they all steal like hungry crows and don’t think of the old woman in jail. But then you come in, child, and I look at you and your eyes and I see what goes on with that wench and I hear what she calls you—not to mention the attack on me and having my hair pulled out, and wrapping her in blankets—everything done nicely, without temper and yet not like the Salvation Army.…”

Petra sat quite still. But it does every person good to be rewarded with a little recognition, and it does especial good if that person has been ill-treated.

“Yes, and so I thought: She’s all right, she’s the sort of person you want. But then she’s in jail rig-out, you can’t get her. Just drop the idea, Ma Krupass. She’ll be patching shirts a long time after you’ve got out again. And then I hear what you’ve told me, and I wonder if there isn’t just the possibility that they may have sent the child straight from heaven to me in my loneliness.”

“Ma Krupass!” said Petra for the second time.

“There, Ma Krupass, of course, what else could it be?” said the old woman very pleased, and slapping Petra on the knee. “I told you a lot of unpleasant things before, didn’t I? Well, forget it, it won’t hurt you. When I was young I also had unpleasant things handed out to me, and afterwards, too, without stint: the boys were killed in the war and my old man was so depressed he hanged himself. But not at my place in Fruchtstrasse. He was already in Dalldorf, which is now called Wittenau. But don’t worry about it, is what I think—a little bitterness gingers you up.” She leaned forward. “But I am not so very cheerful even now, girlie, you understand that? I just seem cheerful. On the whole, I think the business ain’t worth the candle.”

And Petra nodded her head in complete agreement, and understood clearly that the business did not mean the police station in Alexanderplatz. She understood Ma Krupass’s outlook perfectly; one could find life rather depressing and yet not hang one’s head. In fact she had rather a similar attitude, and when you discover such feelings, you are always pleased.

“Yes, yes—but just because of that I carry on with the business. It keeps me alive. And if one doesn’t keep alive and do something, girlie, then it’s useless; you just rot alive. And what you’ve been doing, always squatting in a furnished room and perhaps, at the most, doing a bit of washing-up for the landlady—that’s no life, girl; it would make anyone crazy.”

Again Petra nodded her head. It was quite impossible to return to the old life. But she would have liked to know what sort of work it was which kept Frau Krupass so fresh and vigorous, and she hoped with all her heart that it was something decent and responsible.

And then Frau Krupass herself said: “Now I want to tell you, girlie, what sort of business I’ve got. Even if people do turn up their noses at it and say that it stinks, it’s still a good business. And it’s got nothing to do with my being in jail, for it’s a decent business—my being in jail is just the result of my own stupidity, because I was greedy for money. I can’t help it. I’ve said to myself a hundred times: ‘Don’t do it, Auguste (my name happens to be Auguste, but I never use it), don’t do it, you earn enough money as it is.’ But I can’t help it. And then I go and get caught—for the third time! And Killich says it’ll cost me six months.”

Greedy Frau Krupass! She looked very depressed, and Petra could see that her previous talk about six months’ rest was pure bravado—the old woman was by no means hard-boiled. On the contrary, she had an unearthly fear of six months in jail. She would like to have said something comforting to the old woman, but still didn’t exactly know what it was all about. She also hadn’t the faintest idea what the flourishing but dubious, yet apparently decent, business was that Frau Krupass ran.

“Lordy, now I’m sitting here in the dumps,” said Frau Krupass with an almost apologetic smile. “That always happens when you boast about being cheerful and all that. But now listen to me, girlie. Do you know what a rag-and-bone business is?”

Petra, with visions of a musty cellar, nodded slightly.

“Well, girlie, that’s what I’ve got, and there’s no need for you to turn your nose up, it’s a good business and gets one a living and you don’t have to stand for any nonsense from old lechers. Waste paper and old iron and bones and rags, and I’ve got skins too.… But I don’t push a little barrow to the rubbish
dumps, not me! I’ve got a big yard, with a truck, and six men working for me. And then there’s Randolf; he’s my supervisor—a bit slow, but trustworthy, as I’ve already told you. Fifty or sixty barrows come to me every day. I pay what’s proper, and they know that Ma Krupass pays the proper prices. And it’s growing from day to day, now that everyone goes round with a barrow because there’s less and less work.”

“But, Ma Krupass, I don’t know a thing about it,” said Petra timidly.

“You don’t need to, my girl. Randolf knows everything, except that he can’t reckon and is slow. You’ll do the reckoning; you’ll keep the books and pay out the money. I’ve got a lot of confidence in you, girlie, and it’ll go all right. In the evenings you’ll phone up the spinning mills and the factories, to ask them what they’re all paying for the stuff that concerns them. I’ll tell you the names and telephone numbers of the people, and you’ll pay according to what they say. And then the truck will deliver at the factories, and you’ll get the money. We send off the paper when we’ve got enough for a truckload. Randolf will tell you all that. That again brings in more money. It cheers you up, girlie, when you take in money; and today any child can do business, when the dollar’s always rising.”

Seeing the old woman’s enthusiasm, Petra felt that the plan was not impossible. After all, it was work. Let’s say it’s a kind of future. Then she remembered that they were in prison, and that there must be some catch in the thing, and her joy left her.

But what the old woman now said restored her joy. “You needn’t think that there’s anything shady in my place. Everything’s honest and open. Proper bookkeeping, and no more bother with the income-tax people than everyone has. And a little house in the yard, slap-up, spotless, with flowers and summer-house, the proper thing. Downstairs lives Randolf, and I live upstairs, three rooms with bath and kitchen—classy. Randolf’s wife cooks my meals, and she shall cook them for you, too. I like eating nice things. She doesn’t cook bad! I was thinking you could live in my flat, and you can wash in the bathroom.… But you mustn’t use the bath, for then the enamel will get spoiled. I’m the only one who knows how to manage it. You must give me your solemn oath that you won’t touch the bath. Anyway, you won’t get so dirty that you’ll have to take a bath—Randolf and the men do the dirty work.”

Petra nodded. But there was still one thing, the one point.

“And tomorrow morning Killich’s coming here at visiting time; he’s my lawyer, and he’s a sly dog, girlie. I’ll say to him: ‘Killich, Herr Killich, Solicitor Killich—tomorrow or the day after tomorrow or even today someone will come to you in office hours. Petra Ledig’s her name. She is my business
representative. Don’t look at what she’s wearing—that’s from the Welfare Office or Provident Society—look at her face. And if she does me down, Killich, then I won’t believe another person in the world, not myself, and you least of all, Herr Killich.’ ”

“Ma Krupass!” Petra laid her hand on the old woman’s, convinced that her crime could not really be so bad.

“Well, my girl, that’s how it is. And then Killich will take you to Randolf and tell him that you are to be like me as regards money and giving orders and rooms and food, just like me, and whatever clothes, underwear and things you need, you’ll buy yourself. And in the Municipal Bank, where I have my account, you’ll sign just like me; Killich will arrange all that for you.”

“But, Ma Krupass …”

“Well, what are you ‘butting’ about? You’ll have good food, you’ll have clothes, and you’ll have lodgings; and you can also have your baby in my place, though I hope I’ll be outside again by that time. There’s only one thing you won’t get: you won’t get wages. And why not? Because you’ll only give them to him. You’re that soft, I know. I’m a woman myself. If he comes and looks at you with a faithful doggy look, then you’ll give him what you’ve got. But what you haven’t got—that’s to say, my money—that you won’t give him—I know you well enough for that. That’s why you’ll get no wages. Not because I’m stingy! And now tell me, child, do you agree or don’t you?”

“Yes, Ma Krupass, of course I agree. But there’s still one other thing—
the
thing.”

“What thing? The fellow? We’ll not speak about him anymore. First let him become a fellow!”

“No; your affair, Ma Krupass—
yours!”

“What do you mean, my affair? I’ve told you everything, girlie, and if that isn’t enough for you—”

“No,
your
affair—the business you’re in prison for, the business you want to get six months for.”

“Want
to, girlie! You’re a nice one. A funny idea you’ve got of what I want, I must say! Now, that’s no concern of yours. You’ve got nothing to do with it, nor has the business; it’s only my greediness is responsible. It’s like this. When we sort rags I usually stand by, so that no cotton gets mixed up with linen rags, because linen is dear and cotton’s cheap. I suppose you understand that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good,” said the old woman, pacified. “You’ve got brains, you have. Well, there I’m standing, with the rags flying through the air, and my greedy eyes see something sparkling. I edge up to it cautious=like and there I find a
real dress shirt, and the idiot who chucked it away—though it was probably his servant, wanting to make a little money out of linen rags—a lot of people do that today because wages won’t go far—he’s left three diamond studs sticking in the front. I see at once they’re not duds, but real diamonds, and not little ones either! Well, I pretend I see nothing and pull them out quietly. Pleased as punch when I’ve got them home. That’s the way I am; if something hasn’t cost me a cent I’m as happy as a child. I know I mustn’t do it—I’ve been caught twice already—but I can’t stop myself. I always think no one’s seen me …”

The two looked at each other. Petra was very relieved, and Frau Krupass was very worried.

“And that’s the nasty thing about me, child: I can’t stop myself. It worries me to death because I can’t overcome it. Killich also says to me: ‘What’s the point of it, Frau Krupass? You’re a rich woman; you can buy yourself a whole bagful of diamond studs! Stop doing things like that.’ And he’s right, but I can’t stop. Not however much I try. What would you do in a case like that, child?”

“I would give them up,” said Petra.

“Give them up? Those beautiful studs? I’m not as silly as that.” Frau Krupass managed to control herself. “Well, let’s say no more about them. I’m angry enough without talking about it. What else is there for me to say? One of my men must have seen me, and before I can turn round there’s the copper, and he’s very polite. ‘Well, Frau Krupass, what’s all this again about stealing by finding?’ he says and grins, too, the fool! ‘Have you put it in the wardrobe again? Open it!’ And fathead that I am, I really have put the studs there again, like last time—the man’s right and no fool at all! It’s only me who’s always the fool. Well, the person who isn’t born a thief will never become one as long as he lives.”