Berlin Alexanderplatz: The Story of Franz Biberkopf (50 page)

Now it starts: boom, zoom, without fife or drum. The trees sway right and left. Boom, zoom, boom. But they cannot keep in time. Just when the trees bend towards the left, boom it goes to the left again, and they snap and crack, grate and grind, burst, crackle, and thud down. Boom, mutters the storm, bend over to the left, hoo, hoo, oo, hoo, now back, it’s passed, it’s gone, it’s just a question of watching for the proper moment. Woom, there it is back again, look out boom, zoom, zoom, those are bombs from airplanes, it wants to tear the wood down, to crush the whole wood.

The trees howl and rock, there is a crackle, they break, there’s a rattle, boom. Life’s at stake, boom, zoom, the sun is gone, tottering weights, night boom, zoom.

I am yourn, come now, we’ll soon be there, I’m yourn. Boom, zoom...

EIGHTH BOOK

It was no use. It was still no use. Franz Biberkopf has received the hammer blow, he knows he is lost and he does not yet know why.

Franz notices Nothing; the World goes on

September 2nd. Franz goes about as usual, rides out with the frisky business go-between to the public baths in Wannsee. On the third, a Monday, he’s astonished that Miezeken hasn’t come back yet, she didn’t leave any word, the landlady can’t remember anything, she hasn’t telephoned, either. Well, perhaps she’s on an excursion with her exalted friend and protector! He’ll probably unload her soon. Let’s wait till evening.

It’s noon, Franz is sitting at home, the bell rings, a special delivery letter, from her beau, to Mieze. What’s this? I thought she was with him, what does it mean? I’ll open the letter: “And I am wondering, Sonia, why you don’t even call me up. Yesterday and the day before I waited at the office, as agreed.” What’s this, where is she?

Franz gets up, where’s my hat, don’t get this at all. I’ll go see this man. Taxi. “She hasn’t been with you? When was she here the last time? Friday? Is that so.” They both look at each other. “Haven’t you a nephew, maybe he went along.” The gentleman gets wild, what, I’ll have him up here right away, you stay here a while. Slowly they drink red wine. The nephew arrives: “This is Sonia’s fiance, do you know where she is?” “1, what’s the matter?” “When did you see her last?” “Oh, a long time ago, about two weeks.” “That’s right, she told me about that. Not since?” “No.” “You’ve heard nothing?” “Nothing at all, but why, what’s the matter?” “Our friend here will tell you himself.” “She’s been away since Saturday, didn’t say a word, left everything lying around, not a word as to where she went.” The gentleman-friend: “Maybe she’s found somebody else.” “Don’t think so.” The three of them drink red wine. Franz sits there quietly: “I suppose we’d better wait a bit.”

Her face smashed, her teeth smashed, her eyes smashed, her lips, tongue, neck, body, legs, abdomen smashed.

She’s not back next day. She’s not back. Everything’s lying around just as she left it. She’s not there. Wonder if Eva knows anything. “Didja have a row with her Franz?” “Nope, two weeks ago, but everything’s all right now.” “A pick-up?” “Nope, she told me about her friend’s nephew, but he’s there, I saw him.” “Maybe it might be well to watch him, maybe she’s with him.” ‘Think so?” “Y’might keep an eye on him. Y’never know with Mieze. She’s funny that way.”

She is not there. Franz does nothing for two days, thinking, I won’t run after her. Still he hears nothing, nothing at all, and then he trails the nephew for one whole day, till the next noon; as the nephew’s landlady is out, Franz and the classy go-between slip quickly into the room, the door’s easily opened with a hook; not a soul in the place, in his room there are lots of books, no sign of a dame. Some nice pictures on the walls, books, she’s not here. I know her powder, it don’t smell like that, come on, don’t take anything along, leave that poor woman alone, she makes her living letting out furnished rooms.

What’s the matter? Franz sits in his room. For hours. Where is Mieze? She’s gone, not a word from her. What do you say to that? Everything topsy-turvy in the room, he took the bed apart, put it together again. She’s let me down. It’s not possible. It’s not possible. Let me down. Did I do somethin’? I didn’t do nothin’. She didn’t hold that business about the nephew against me.

Who’s that? Eva. “You’re sittin’ in the dark, Franz, why don’t you light the gas?” “Mieze’s given me the slip. Is that possible?” “Don’t bother, old kid. She’ll come back. She likes you, she won’t run away from you, I understand people.” “I know all that. You think I’m worryin’ about that? She’ll come all right.” “You see, the girl’s likely gone off somewhere, met some old friend from the old days, out on a little flyer. I knew her before, when you hadn’t got to know her yet, that’s the way she does, she gets ideas like that into her head.” “But it’s queer just the same, I can’t understand it.” “She loves you. Say, put your hand on my stomach, Franz.” “What is it?” “Well, it’s by you, don’t you remember, a kid. She wanted that, Mieze, didn’t she?” “What?” “Why, yes.”

Franz lays his head against Eva’s body. “Mieze wanted it. Lemme sit down. It’s not possible.” “Well, look out Franz, when she comes back, she’ll make a face. “ Eva starts crying herself. “Say, Eva, who’s excited now? You are!” “It’s driving me batty. I just can’t make that girl out.” “Now I have to console you.” “No, just nerves, on account of the kid, maybe.” “You just watch out, when she comes back she’ll start a grand old rumpus about it.” She goes on crying. “What’ll we do about it, Franz? That isn’t like her at all.” “First you say: that’s what she always does, she goes on a bust with somebody, and afterwards you say, that’s not like her!” “I don’t know, Franz! “

Eva presses Franz’s head against her arm. She looks down on Franzeken’s head: the hospital in Magdeburg, they ran over his arm, he killed Ida, Lord, what’s the matter with the man? He is always in trouble. Maybe Mieze is dead. There’s something after him. Something has happened to Mieze. She collapses on a chair, and, terrified, lifts her hands to her face. Franz is startled. She sobs and sobs. She knows there is something after him, something has happened to Mieze.

He urges her to speak, but she is silent. Then she recovers herself. “I won’t let nobody take this child from me. And I don’t care what Herbert thinks about it.” “Has he said anything?” He skips over six miles of notions. “No, he thinks it’s his. But I’ll keep it.” “All right, Eva, and I’ll be godfather.” “You’re in a good humor, Franz.” “They can’t put it over on me so easy. Now, cheer up, Eva. Don’t I know my Mieze? She won’t roll under a bus. I know it’ll come out all right.” “If you think so, Franzeken, all right; so longl” “Well, let’s have a kiss.” “To think that you should be so cheerful, Franz.”

We got legs, we got teeth, we got eyes, we got arms, let any guy come on that wants to bite us, that wants to bile Franz, let him come. Franz has got two arms, he’s got two legs, he’s got muscles, he smashes everything into a cocked hat. They ought to know Franz, he’s no milksop. Whatever lies behind LIS, whatever lies before us, let any guy come along that wants, we’ll take a drink on it, we’ll take two drinks on it, we’ll take nine drinks on it.

We got no legs, alas, we got no teeth, we got no eyes, we got no arms, anyone can come up and bite Franz, he’s a milksop, alas, he can’t defend himself, he can only drink.

“I gotta do somethin’, Herbert, I can’t just go on lookin’ at this thing.” “What do you wanta do, honey?” “I can’t just go on lookin’ at this thing. He don’t notice nothin’, he sits there and says she’ll come back, and she’ll come back, and I look in the papers every day, and there’s nothin’ in ‘em. Didja hear anything?” “Nope.” “Can’t you go around investigatin’ a bit and see if anybody has heard, heard anything from anybody?” “That’s foolish, Eva, what you’re sayin’ now. What you find mysterious about the business, why, that’s not really mysterious at all. What is it, anyway? The kid’s left him. My God, we won’t tear our hair out for that. He’ll get another jane.” “Would you talk like that about me, too?” “Now cut that stuff out Eva, but when a girl’s like that.” “She ain’t, I got her for him, I’ve looked around in the morgue already, watch out, Herbert, somethin’ has happened to her. He’s always in trouble, our Franz. Something’s after him. Say, haven’t you heard nothin’ at all?” “I don’t know nothin’ at all.” “Well, sometimes something comes out when they get together at the club. Hasn’t anybody seen her? She certainly ain’t disappeared from the earth like that. Say-if she don’t get back soon, I’m gonna go to Police Headquarters.” “You’d do a thing like that you would?” “Don’t laugh, sure I’d do it. I’ve gotta find her, Herbert, somethin’ has happened, she hasn’t gone off by herself, she’d never go away from me like that, and from Franz neither. And he don’t notice it.” “I can’t listen to all this. That’s a lotta hot air, and now let’s go to the movies, Eva.”

At the movies they watch a play.

In the third act when the noble hero is apparently killed by a bandit Eva sighs. And when Herbert looks her way, she’s just about to slide off her seat and she faints, imagine it. Afterwards they walk silently arm-inarm through the street. Herbert is astonished: “Your old man is goin’ to have lots of fun, if you act like this.” “He shot him, did you see that, Herbert?” “That wasn’t real, it was only a trick, didn’t you spot that? Why, you’re still trembling.” “You gotta do somethin’ about it, Herbert, it can’t go on like this.” “You’d better go on a trip, tell your old man you’re sick.” “No, what’ll we do? Please do somethin’, Herbert. Didn’t you help Franz when he had that trouble with his arm, now go ahead and do this, too. Please, please, do.” “I can’t Eva, what can I do?” She cries. He has to help her into the automobile.

Franz doesn’t have to go begging, for Eva slips him something and he gets something from Pums, too, they have a new project for the end of September. Towards the end of September, Matter, the tinner, comes back. He has been abroad, working at something or other. When he sees Franz again, he says he was recuperating, lung trouble. He still looks wretched; he hasn’t got much better. Franz says Mieze is gone, he knew her, didn’t he? But he’s not to tell anybody about it, there are some people who laugh themselves sick when a girl runs away from a fellow. “Keep mum about it to Reinhold, will ye, I’ve had some trouble with him about dames, he’d laugh himself sick, if he heard about that. I haven’t got another one yet.” Franz smiles, “and don’t want any, either.” He has lines on his forehead, and around his mouth. But he holds his head firmly upon his neck and presses his lips together.

There’s lots of activity in the city. Tunney retains the heavyweight championship of the world, but the Americans are not really pleased about it, they don’t like the man. He was down in the 7th to the count of nine. Then Dempsey got groggy. That’s Dempsey’s last great fight. The whole thing was over at four fifty-eight o’clock, September 23, 1928. You can hear about that and about the flying record on the Cologne-Leipzig line as well, and then they say, there’s an economic war on between oranges and bananas. But we listen to it with tightly closed eyes all through a little dormer-window.

How does a plant protect itself against the cold? Many vegetables cannot resist even a slight frost. Others are able to counteract the cold by protective measures of a chemical nature in their cells. The most effective protection is the transformation of the starch content of their cells into sugar. The utility of some garden produce is, to be sure, not increased through this formation of sugar, and the best proof of this can be seen in potatoes which become sweet when frozen. But there are also cases where the sugar content of a plant or fruit produced by the influence of frost is needed to make them palatable; this is the case with wild fruit. If you leave such fruit on the tree until the light frost begins, they soon develop so much sugar that their flavor is changed and substantially improved. The same thing applies to haws.

What does it matter if two Berlin rowers are drowned in the Danube, or Nungesser falls near Ireland with his “White Bird”? What are the newsboys yelling outside, you can buy it for 10 pfennigs, then throw it away, leave it lie somewhere. They wanted to lynch the Hungarian Prime Minister, because his automobile ran over a peasant boy. If they had lynched him, the headline would have been: “Lynching of the Hungarian Premier near the City of Kaposvar,” that would have added to the excitement. the highbrows would have read “lunching” instead of lynching and laughed over it, the other 80 per cent would have said: too bad, only one, or else, none of my business, as a matter of fact, we ought to do the same thing here.

They are laughing a lot in Berlin. Near Dobrin, at the corner of the Kaiser-Wilhelm Strasse, three persons are sitting around the table, a fat old boy, a cheery bird he is, and his little patootie, a nice plump little thing, if only she wouldn’t scream so much when she laughs, and then another fellow, his friend, who’s rather out of it, the fat boy pays for him and he just listens and has to laugh with them. Fairly well-to-do folks. The plump little broad slaps her sugar-daddy’s mouth every five minutes and screams: “That man certainly has funny notions!” Then he necks her, it lasts a good two minutes. What the other chap, who just looks on, thinks about it, is none of their business. The sugar-daddy tells a story. “So she says to him: What have you done to me? Says she to him: What have you done now? And item number three’s just: bing!” His companion grins: “You sure are a prize funny man.” The sugar-daddy, with delight: “Not as funny as you are dumb.” They drink some bouillon, and the fat boy starts telling stories again.

“An aviator walks on to a field, and there’s a girl sitting there. Says he: ‘Hey, Miss Lindbergh, how about some trick flying together?’ Says she: ‘My name ain’t Lindbergh, its Fokker.’ ‘Oh, boy, let’s go!’ “All three roar with laughter. The fat man states: “As a matter of fact, we’re having Scotch broth at home tonight.” The little dame: “That man certainly has funny notions.”

“Now, listen, ever heard this one: A girl says: ‘Tell me, what does this mean: bomme de terre?’ ‘Bomme de terre? In from the front.’ ‘You see!’ says she, ‘I thought right away it was somethin’ dirty! Sh-sh-sh!’ “ It’s very nice and comfortable and lots of fun in here; the young lady has to step out to the toilet six times. “Said the hen to the rooster, said she: You’ll let me get near it, maybe. Waiter, check, I owe for three cognacs, two ham sandwiches, three bouillons and three pieces of shoe leather.” “Shoe leather? Those were biscuits.” “Well, you can call them that if you want to. I call them shoe leather. Nothin’ smaller? Because I got a little one at home in the cradle, and I always stick a groschen in his mouth for him to chew on. Well, sweetie, let’s go. The laughing hour’s over, we’re off, we’re on our way to Mandelay.”