Berlin Alexanderplatz: The Story of Franz Biberkopf (20 page)

They march back to the courtyard, Gerner, playing the dumbbell, sticks by them. Now they study the two new iron doors in the cellar, Gerner standing nearby. And then, as chance would have it, he steps back a pace, he wants to make room for somebody, but, chance would have it, he steps on something, something overturns, and as he makes a quick grab for it, it turns out to be a bottle, but it happens to have fallen on some paper, so nobody has heard anything. There’s a bottle standing here in the courtyard, they must have left it behind, we’ll take it along, why not, the big fellows won’t lose anything by that. And he leans down, as if he wanted to lace his shoes, with that he grabs the bottle along with the paper. And thus Eve gave Adam the apple, and, if the apple had not fallen from the tree, Eve would not have touched it, and the apple would not have reached Adam’s address. Later, Gerner puts the bottle under his coat, and off with it across the courtyard, to the old lady at home.

Whatcha say, old lady? She beams: “Where did ye get that, August?” “Bought it when nobody was there.” “You don’t say so!” “Danziger Goldwasser, whatcha say to that?”

She beams and beams, as if she came from Beamville. She pulls the curtains to: “Man alive, some of ‘em are still standing over there, you got it from over there, didn’t ye?” “Found it standing by the wall, those fellows would have taken it along with ‘em.” “You’ll have to give that back.” “Since when does a man have to give up Goldwasser when he finds it? When did we ever treat ourselves to a bottle of cognac, old lady, with times as bad as they are? That would be a fool trick wouldn’t it, old lady?”

In the end that’s her opinion, too, she’s not that kind, a bottle. a little bottle, what difference does it make with such a big firm and then, old lady, when you get down to it, it doesn’t belong to the firm anyway, it belongs to the burglars, and do you expect me to throw it after ‘em? That would be a criminal offense. And they take a nip, then they tipple, another little nip, yes, you have to keep your eyes open in this world, not everything has to be made of gold; silver, too, has its value.

On Saturday the burglars come and a funny thing happens. They notice a stranger sneaking around in the courtyard, or rather the one who is standing by the wall notices it, and already the others, with dark lanterns, like gnomes from a pit, make full speed ahead towards the courtyard door. But there stands Gerner, and they leap like greyhounds over the wall to the next-door yard. Gerner runs after them, they rush off. “Cut it out, I won’t do anything to you, God, what saps.” He watches them climb over the wall, his heart is near breaking, two have already made their get-away: “Fellers, don’t act like fools.” Only the last man, astride up there on the house-wall, turns his dark lantern on his face: “What’s the matter with you?” A rival, maybe, gummed the game for us. “Why, I’m with ye,” says Gerner. What’s the matter with him anyway? “Of course, I’ll work with you, why do you beat it?”

And after a while he creeps down from the wall, alone, takes a look at the carpenter, that man looks tight. But old Fatty is courageous, because the carpenter is fuddled and smells of hooch. Gerner gives him his hand. “Shake, pard, coming along?” “Is this a frame-up?” “How’s that?” “Maybe you think I’m goin’ to bite?” Gerner is insulted, grieved, the other does not take him seriously, if he only doesn’t run off, that Goldwasser was really too good, his wife would give him the deuce, Lord, wouldn’t she now, if he came home looking like a damned fool. Gerner starts begging: “Ah, say, what do you mean, go on in, here’s where I live.” “Who?” “Why, man, I’m the Superintendent here, can’t something come my way once in a while?” Then the thief reflects; he finds that O. K., that would really be great, if the other fellow were in on it, if it’s only not a trap, well, we’ve got a gun with us.

And he leaves his ladder standing against the wall, walks off with Gerner across the courtyard, the others have already made their getaway, probably think I’ve hit a snag. Gerner then rings the down-stairs bell. “Heh, whatcha ringing for, who lives here?” Gerner proudly: “Me. Watch it.” Then he lifts the latch and opens the door noisily: “Well, is it me or not?”

And he switches on the light, his wife’s already at the kitchen door, trembling. Gerner jovially makes the introductions: “This is my wife, and here’s a pal of mine, Gusta.” She shakes in her shoes, stays inside, suddenly she nods solemnly, smiles, why, thal’s a nice man, ain’t that a young, handsome lad! Then she comes out, there she is: “But, Paul, you can’t let the gentleman stay out here in the hallway, won’t you kindly step up, sir, and take your cap off.”

The stranger would like to beat it, but the other two won’t give in, he is astonished, can this be possible, why those are respectable people, in bad straits probably, the lower middle-class is hard hit, inflation and so on. The little woman keeps looking at him lovingly, he gets warmed up on punch, then off he goes, never quite sure what it’s all about.

At any rate, this youngster, obviously sent by his gang, comes to Gerner’s next morning after breakfast, and inquires minutely as to whether he had left anything there. Gerner is not home, only his wife, who receives him amiably, almost humbly in fact, even offers him a brandy, which he deigns to accept.

To the regret of the carpenter, the burglars stay away the whole week. A thousand times Paul and Gusta discuss the situation, whether they hadn’t scared the boys off maybe, but neither can find anything to cause self-reproach. “Maybe you were too rough with ‘em, Paul, you sometimes have a funny way with you.” “Nope, Gusta, it’s not my fault, it’s more likely yours, you made a face as if you were the preacher himself, and that drove him off, they don’t feel at home with us, it’s terrible, what are we going to do about it?”

Gusta has begun crying; if only one of them would come again; to think she should have to go on listening to these reproaches, and, really, it wasn’t her fault.

But sure enough, Friday is the great moment. There’s somebody knocking. I think there’s somebody knocking. And as she opens, even though she does not see anything as yet, because in her excitement she forgot to switch on the light, she knows at once who it is. And it is the tall fellow, who always plays the gentleman, he wants to talk to her husband, and he is very serious and cool. She is frightened, has anything happened? He reassures her: “No, it’s purely a matter of business.” Then he talks about different places and how nothing can come out of nothing, and so on. They sit in the sitting-room, she is happy, now she has got him inside, and Paul can no longer say that she chased him, and she says, that’s what she always said, and the opposite is right, from nothing, nothing can come. Follows a long debate over this problem, and it turns out that both have at their disposal quite a few sayings from their parents, grandparents, uncles, and aunts to this same effect: from nothing, nothing can come, never, you can always take an oath on it, it’s that sure, and they were of the same opinion. They brought up one example after another, from their own past, from the neighborhood, and were still right in the midst of it, when the bell rang and two men stepped in, who turned out to be detectives, accompanied by three insurance officials. One of the officials addressed the visitor without much ado: “You are Herr Gerner, you’ll have to help us a bit, it’s with regard to all those burglaries over there, I would like you to join us in a special surveillance. The gentlemen of the wholesale firm, as well as the insurance company, will, of course, pay your expenses.” They talk for ten minutes, the woman listens to everything, at twelve they leave. And the two who stayed behind became so excited and gay that around one o’clock something unspeakable happened between them, beggaring description, something of which both were indeed ashamed. For the woman was thirty-five and he perhaps twenty or twenty-one. But it was not only the difference in their ages-and he being 6 feet 3 inches and she just 5 feet-but that such a thing could happen, it somehow developed between their talk and the excitement and their mocking at the policemen, and on the whole it was not so bad, only embarrassing afterwards, at least for her, nevertheless, it will pass over. At any rate, at two o’clock Herr Gerner found a situation confronting him and a general coziness that were indescribable, he had never imagined anything so nice.

So he sat down with them at once.

They were still sitting together at six o’clock, and he listened quite enraptured, as did also his wife, to everything the tall fellow told them. Even if it were only partly true, they were first-class lads, and he was astonished to hear such reasonable ideas about life from a young man of today. He himself was already a decrepit old thing, the scales fell from his eyes by the pound. Yes, after the youngster had gone and they had hit the hay around nine, Gerner said he didn’t know how such bright boys could have anything to do with him-there must be something, Gusta would have to admit it, there surely must be something about him, he certainly had something to offer. Gusta was of the same opinion, and the old boy stretched himself contentedly.

And early in the morning, before he got up, he said to her: “Gusta, my name’s Jake if I go back to work as a polisher. I had a business of my own and now it’s gone and that’s no work for a man who has been his own boss, and they would like to kick me out, anyway, because I’m too old. And why shouldn’t I make something out of the wholesalers back there. Just look how clever the boys are. If you’re not clever today, you go under. That’s what I say. What do you say?” “Always said that myself.” “You see, I’d like to live like a prince and not freeze my toes off. “ She embraced him happily, grateful for everything he offered her, and would offer her. “You know what we ought to do, old lady, you and me?” He pinched her legs till she cried out. “You’ll lend us a hand, old lady.” “Nope, nothin’ doin’.” “And I say, yes. You mean we can get along just as well without you, old lady?” “Being as you are five already, all strong men.” And how strong! “Want me to be a look-out?” she continues jabbering. “Can’t do it. I got varicose veins.”

“And help you, what could I do?” “Are you afraid, old gal?” “Afraid, what do you mean? Suppose
you
had varicose veins and then tried to run? Why a dachshund could outrun you! And if they catch me, you certainly would get into trouble, ‘cause I’m your wife.” “Is it my fault you’re my wife?” He pinched her leg, with emotion. “You better stop, Paul. It gets you all excited. “ “You see, old lady, you’ll be a different woman once you get out of this damned hole here.” “Why, I’d like to all right, ain’t my mouth waterin’ for it?” “Just you wait, old lady, that small stuff, that wasn’t nothing, take the cotton out of your ears. I’ll work the game alone.” “Sakes alive. And the others?” What a fright.

“Why, that’s just it, Gusta. We’ll ditch ‘em. Y’know, partnership never works in business, that’s an old saw. Well now, am I right or not? I’m goin’ to be my own boss. After all, we’re the first-comers, living here on the ground-floor, and the courtyard belongs to our house, don’t it?” “But I can’t help you there, Paul, I really got varicose veins.” And it was also too bad in other respects. The old girl agreed bitter-sweetly with her lips, but inside, where the feelings are, she says: No, and keeps saying: No.

And in the evening, since all the firm had left the basement at two o’clock and Gerner had let himself be locked up there with his wife, and it is now nine, and nothing is stirring in the house, and he is just about to start working, and the watchman is probably now patrolling before the house-door, what happens? There is a knock at the basement door. A knock. I think there’s a knock. Who could be knocking here anyway? I don’t know, but there was a knock. Nobody has any business knocking here now. The store is closed. Somebody knocked. Another knock. Both of them dead silent, not stirring, not saying a word. Again there’s a knocking. Gerner nudges her: “Somebody knocked.” “Yes.” “What is it anyway?” Curiously enough she is not at all afraid, but says: “Likely it isn’t anything, they’re not goin’ to kill us.” Nope, he won’t kill us, the chap who’s coming, I know him, he won’t kill me, he’s got two long legs and a wee bit of a mustache, and if he comes, I’d be glad, I would. But then the knocking grows insistent, though soft. For Lord’s sake, that’s a signal. “That’s somebody who knows us. That’s one of our boys. Been thinkin’ that for a long time, old lady.” “Then why don’t you say so?”

Hello! Gerner’s already on the stairs, how did those chaps find out we’re here anyway, they’ve surprised us: the man outside whispers: “Open that door, Gerner.”

And whether he wants to or not, he has to open it. It’s a lousy trick, goddamned swinishness, I could smash the whole world to smithereens. He has to open the door, it’s the tall fellow, alone, her beau. Gerner notices nothing, she has double-crossed him, after all she would like to show her gratitude to her beau. She beams on him once he’s downstairs, she can’t help it, her husband looks like a bulldog, he curses: “Whatcha grinning for, you?” “Why, I was so afraid it might ‘a’ been somebody in the house or the watchman.” Now lets get to work and divvy up, cursing won’t change things either, damned swinishness.

When Gerner tries it for the second time, and leaves the old woman outside, growling that she brings him bad luck, there comes a knocking again, but now there are three of them and they even act as if he had invited them, and there’s nothing to be done about it; a fellow is not even master in his own house, nothing doing against foxy lads like that. Then Gerner says to himself, checkmated, stinking mad: For today I’ll work with them, caught together, hanged together, but tomorrow nothing doing, if those dirty fools come again into my house where I’m the superintendent, and mix up in my affairs, then they’ll find out how fast the coppers’ll get here. Regular profiteers they are, blackmailers!

So they work and work in the basement for TWO whole hours, carrying most of the stuff into Gerner’s place, everything in bags, coffee, dried currants, sugar, they make a clean sweep of things, then cases of alcohol; all kinds of brandy and wine, they drag away half the stock. Gerner is raging that he has to divide all this up with them. At home the old woman pacifies him: “Why I wouldn’t ‘a’ been able to carry so much, me with my varicose veins.” He’s in a poisonous rage, they’re still carrying things over: “Your varicose veins, you should have bought yourself rubber stockings long ago, that’s what comes from saving, always saving and scraping in the wrong place.” But Gusta keeps looking at her big boy, and the latter is mighty proud of her in front of the other boys, that’s his department, he’s smart at that sort of thing.