‘Quiet,’ said Karl, and smacked his hands aside, ran to the lift-boy he had stood in for earlier in the night, asked him to return the favour for a little while, hurried back to Robinson, pulled him, still sobbing, to a standing position (which took all of his strength) and whispered to him: ‘Robinson, if you want me to look after you, make an effort to walk upright for a little way. I’ll take you to my bed, you’ll be able to stay there until you feel better. You’ll be surprised how quickly you’ll recover. But now act sensibly, because there are a lot of people in the corridors, and my bed is in a common dormitory. If you attract any attention to yourself at all, I will be unable to do anything more for you. And you must keep your eyes open, I can’t carry you around as though you were at death’s door.’ ‘I’ll do all you say,’ said Robinson, ‘but you won’t be able to move me by yourself. Couldn’t you get Renell to help you?’ ‘Renell isn’t here,’ said Karl. ‘Oh, yes,’ said Robinson, ‘Renell is with Delamarche. It was them that sent me to you. I’m getting everything mixed up.’ Karl took advantage of this and other incomprehensible burblings of Robinson’s to push him along, and succeeded in getting to a corner from where a rather dimly lit corridor led to the lift-boys’ dormitory. Just then a lift-boy came running towards them full pelt, and continued past. Otherwise they had only harmless encounters; things were at their quietest between four and five o’clock, and Karl knew that if he couldn’t manage to remove Robinson now, there was no hope of being able to do so later on when it grew light and the morning rush began.
At the far end of the dormitory there was a big fight in progress or something similar, you could hear rhythmic clapping, excited drumming of feet and partisan cries. Near the door there were only a few resolute sleepers in their beds, most were lying on their backs staring into space, while now and then, dressed or undressed as he might be, someone would leap out of bed to check how things were progressing at the far end of the room. So Karl was able to take Robinson, who was by now a little used to walking, relatively unobserved to Renell’s bed, which was very near the door and fortunately unoccupied, whereas in his own bed, which he saw from a distance, there was some boy he didn’t know at all quietly asleep. No sooner did Robinson feel the bed under him than – one leg still dangling out of it – he fell into a deep sleep. Karl pulled the blanket right up over his face, and thought he wouldn’t have to worry about him for the immediate future, as Robinson would certainly not wake up before six o’clock in the morning, and by then he would be back here and would find some means, perhaps in concert with Renell, of removing Robinson from the hotel. Inspections of the dormitory by the authorities only took place in extraordinary circumstances, they had been routine once in the past, but the lift-boys had secured their abolition, and so there was nothing to fear in that way.
When Karl was back downstairs by his lift, he noticed that both it and that of his neighbour were at that moment on their way up. Anxiously he waited for the reason for this to become clear. His lift came down first, and out of it came the boy who had run down the corridor a minute ago. ‘Hey, Rossmann, where have you been?’ he asked. ‘Why did you go away? Why didn’t you report it?’ ‘But I asked him to stand in for me for a while,’ replied Karl and pointed to the boy from the next lift who was now approaching. ‘I’ve just stood in for him for two hours at peak time.’ ‘That’s all very well,’ said the boy thus referred to, ‘but it’s not enough. Don’t you know that the least absence from your post must be reported to the Head Waiter’s office. That’s what you’ve got a telephone for. I would have been happy to deputize for you, but it’s not that easy, you know. Just now there were guests off the 4.30 express standing in front of both lifts. I couldn’t go to your lift, and leave my passengers waiting, so I took my own lift up first.’ ‘Well?’ asked Karl tensely, as both boys were silent. ‘Well,’ said the boy from the other lift, ‘the Head Waiter is going past, he sees the people queuing in front of your lift, which is unattended, he is furious, he asks me as I come running up where you are, I haven’t a clue, you never told me where you were going, and so he telephones up to the dormitory for another boy right away.’ ‘I passed you in the corridor,’ said Karl’s replacement. Karl nodded. ‘Of course,’ insisted the other boy, ‘I said right away that you’d asked me to stand in for you, but you can be certain he doesn’t listen to excuses like that. You probably don’t know him yet. And we’re to tell you to go and see him in his office right away. So get a move on and don’t hang around. Maybe he’ll forgive you, you really were only gone for two minutes. It’s best not to say that you stood in for me earlier, nothing will happen to me, I had permission to go, but it isn’t good to bring up something like that, still less to mix it up with this affair which has got nothing to do with it.’ ‘But I’ve never left my post before,’ said Karl. ‘That’s always the way, only no one ever believes it,’ said the boy, and ran to his lift, as people were approaching. Karl’s stand-in, a boy of about fourteen, obviously feeling sorry for Karl, said: ‘There have been many instances of similar incidents being forgiven. Usually you are just assigned to other duties. So far as I know, only one person has actually been dismissed for such a thing. You just have to think up a good excuse. On no account say you suddenly felt sick, he’ll just laugh at you. You’d be better off saying a guest sent you on an urgent errand to another guest, and you can’t remember who the first guest was, and you were unable to find the second.’ ‘Oh well,’ said Karl, ‘it won’t be that bad,’ after what he had heard, he no longer believed things might take a good turn. And even if he should be forgiven for his breach of duty, there was still Robinson lying in the dormitory, as living proof of his guilt, and considering the splenetic character of the Head Waiter it was all too likely that he wouldn’t be content with any superficial investigation, and Robinson would be discovered. There was probably no actual rule that said strangers were not to be taken up to the dormitory, but that was only because the unimaginable was not expressly forbidden.
As Karl stepped into the Head Waiter’s office, he was drinking his morning coffee, from which he had just taken a sip, and was looking at an inventory that the Head Porter, who was also present, had given him to examine. This was a big man, made even broader in the shoulders than he was already by his lavish and richly decorated uniform which had gold chains and ribbons twining all over his shoulders and down his arms. His shiny black moustache, teased into long points in the Hungarian style, didn’t move, however quickly he turned his head. In actual fact, because of the weight of his apparel, the man could only move with difficulty, and accordingly stood with his feet apart, to keep the weight evenly distributed.
Karl had made a swift and easy entrance, as he had become accustomed to doing in the hotel, because the slowness and circumspection that in other walks of life signify politeness are taken for laziness in lift-boys. Besides, he didn’t want his guilty conscience to be immediately apparent. The Head Waiter had glanced at the door, but immediately went back to his coffee and his reading, without taking any more notice of Karl. The porter, though, seemed to feel bothered by Karl’s presence, perhaps he had some confidential piece of news or favour to ask, at any rate he kept turning stiffly to send angry looks in Karl’s direction, and when these looks duly met Karl’s, he would look back at the Head Waiter again. But Karl thought it would make a bad impression if, having got here, he left the office again without being ordered to do so by the Head Waiter. He, though, carried on studying the inventory and eating a piece of cake from which he occasionally shook the sugar without stopping reading. Once a page of the inventory fell to the ground, the porter didn’t even make a move to pick it up, he knew that was entirely beyond him, nor was it necessary either as Karl had already done it, and passed the page back to the Head Waiter who took it from him with a motion of his hand that suggested it had flown back to him from the floor all by itself. The little service achieved nothing whatsoever, because the porter still carried on with his angry glances.
Even so, Karl
felt calmer than before. Even the fact that his affair seemed to have so little importance for the Head Waiter might be a good sign. One could see why it should be so. Of course a lift-boy is utterly insignificant and therefore may not step out of line, but by virtue of his insignificance what could he do anyway. And then the Head Waiter was a former lift-boy himself – which made him the pride of the present generation of lift-boys – he was the one who had organized the lift-boys for the first time, and he must certainly have left his post without permission on the odd occasion, even if no one could compel him to remember it now, and one shouldn’t forget either that, as an erstwhile lift-boy, he saw that his duty lay specifically in keeping that rank in order, even by occasionally draconian means. Karl also pinned some hope on the advancing time. By the office clock it was already a quarter past five, Renell might be back at any time, perhaps he was back already, because it must have struck him that Robinson had failed to return, and, it further occurred to Karl, Delamarche and Renell must have been in the proximity of the Hotel Occidental, because otherwise Robinson in his wretched state would not have got there. Now, if Renell found Robinson in his bed, as must surely happen, then all would be well. For Renell was a practical character, particularly when his own interests were at stake, and he would find a way of speedily getting Robinson out of the hotel, which would be easier as Robinson would have got his strength back by now, and besides Delamarche would probably be waiting for him outside the hotel as well. Once Robinson was gone, Karl would be much more comfortable with the Head Waiter, and might get away with a severe reprimand this time. Then he and Therese might discuss whether he could tell the Head Cook the truth – he for his part couldn’t see why not – and if that was possible, the whole affair would have passed without doing him any particular damage.
Having soothed himself a little by such reflections, Karl was just discreetly counting the tips he’d taken that night, because he had the feeling it had been a particularly good one when the Head Waiter put the inventory down on the table with the words ‘Would you just wait a moment longer please, Feodor,’ sprang lithely to his feet, and screamed at Karl so loudly that he could only stare in terror at his large, black, cavernous mouth.
‘You left your post without permission. Do you know what that means? It means dismissal. I want no excuses, you can keep your lying excuses to yourself, for me the mere fact that you weren’t there is quite enough. If I condone that even just once, all forty lift-boys will be running off when on duty, and I’ll be left to carry five thousand guests up the stairs by myself.’
Karl said nothing. The porter had come closer and tweaked at Karl’s little jacket which was a bit creased, no doubt to draw the Head Waiter’s attention to this minor flaw in Karl’s appearance.
‘Did you suddenly feel sick?’ the Head Waiter asked cunningly. Karl looked at him searchingly and replied ‘No.’ ‘So you didn’t even feel sick?’ screamed the Head Waiter even more loudly. ‘Then you must have some truly wonderful excuse. All right, let’s hear it. What’s your story?’ ‘I didn’t know you had to ask for permission by telephone,’ said Karl. ‘Now that is priceless,’ said the Head Waiter, and grabbed Karl by the lapels and lifted him bodily up to a copy of the lift regulations which was pinned on the wall. The porter also followed them across to the wall. ‘There! Read that!’ said the Head Waiter, indicating one of the paragraphs. Karl thought he was meant to read it to himself. ‘Out loud!’ ordered the Head Waiter. But instead of reading it aloud, hoping it would calm the Head Waiter more effectively, Karl said: ‘I know the paragraph, I was given a copy of the rules myself and read them carefully. But that sort of rule, which you never use, is most easily forgotten. I’ve been serving for two months, and never once left my post.’ ‘But you’re about to leave it now,’ said the Head Waiter, and walked over to the table, picked up the inventory as though to go on reading from it, but instead smacked it down on the table like a useless piece of bumf and, with scarlet cheek and brow, began criss-crossing the room. ‘That a rascal like you should be the cause of such commotion on night duty!’ he exclaimed from time to time. ‘Do you know who was waiting to take the lift up at the time when this fellow walked off?’ he asked the porter. And he gave a name that caused the porter (who must have a pretty shrewd idea of all the guests) to shudder violently, and cast a quick look at Karl, as if his mere presence was proof that the man who bore that name had had to wait in vain for the lift the boy had forsaken. ‘But that’s terrible!’ said the porter, and slowly, in infinite disquiet, shook his head at Karl, who looked at him sorrowfully and thought he would now have to pay for the man’s slow-wittedness on top of everything else. ‘I know you too,’ said the porter, jabbing out a big fat stiff index finger. ‘You are the only boy not in the habit of greeting me. Who do you think you are! Everyone who goes past the porter’s lodge has to greet me. You can do what you like with the other porters, but I insist on being greeted. I may sometimes behave as though I weren’t paying attention, but rest assured, I know all too well who greets me and who doesn’t, you rapscallion.’ And he turned away from Karl and strode loftily over to the Head Waiter, who, instead of commenting on the porter’s case, was finishing his breakfast and perusing a morning newspaper which a servant had just delivered into the room.
‘Head Porter, sir,’ said Karl, who wanted, at least while the Head Waiter’s attention was elsewhere, to settle the dispute with the porter, because he realized that while the porter’s complaint might not damage him, the man’s enmity certainly could, ‘of course I greet you. I haven’t been in America long, and I come from Europe where people are known for greeting one another far more than is necessary. Of course I haven’t been completely able to shake off the habit yet, and just two months ago in New York, where I happened to be moving in rather elevated circles, I was continually being admonished to give up my excessive politeness. And yet you say I failed to greet you. I greeted you several times a day. But of course not every time I saw you, because I must pass you hundreds of times a day.’ ‘You’re supposed to greet me every time without exception, while you’re speaking to me I want you to hold your cap in your hands, and you must always address me as “Sir” and not “you”. And all of that every time, you hear, every time!’ ‘Every time?’ Karl repeated quietly and questioningly, he remembered now how the whole time he had been here he had always been looked at sternly and reproachfully by the porter, from the very first morning, when, not yet used to his servile role, he had been a little too bold in asking the porter urgently and insistently whether two men hadn’t come looking for him, or perhaps left a photograph for him. ‘Now you see where such behaviour gets you,’ said the porter, who had once more walked right up to Karl and pointed to the Head Waiter who was still reading, as though he was merely the person who was delegated to execute his revenge. ‘In your next job you’ll learn to greet the porter, even if it’s just in a wretched doss-house.’
Karl realized that to all intents and purposes he had already lost his job, because the Head Waiter had said as much, the Head Porter had referred to it as a foregone conclusion, and in the case of a mere lift-boy the approval of the management would hardly be necessary. It had all happened rather faster than he had expected, because he had served for two months as well as he could, and certainly better than one or two other boys he could think of. But such things, when it came down to it, were obviously of no importance, neither in Europe nor in America, rather matters are decided by whatever impetuous judgement the initial rage of one’s superiors might dictate. Perhaps it would have been best now if he had said goodbye and left right away, the Head Cook and Therese were perhaps both still asleep, he could take his leave of them in writing, to save them the upset and disappointment of a farewell in person, could quickly pack his things and slink away. Whereas if he stayed for one more day – and he could use a little sleep – all he had to look forward to would be the mushrooming of his affair into a full-blown scandal, reproaches from all sides, the insufferable sight of Th
erese in tears, and perhaps the Head Cook as well, and maybe on top of everything else some further punishment. On the other hand, it confused him to be confronting two enemies at once, either of whom might object to and misinterpret any words he might use on his own behalf. He therefore said nothing, and enjoyed the quiet in the room while he could, because the Head Waiter was still reading the newspaper and the Head Porter was putting the papers from his inventory, that had been scattered all over the table, back in numerical order, which with his evident short-sightedness was obviously proving rather difficult.
Finally with a yawn the Head Waiter laid the newspaper aside, looked to see that Karl was still present, and wound up the telephone on the table. He said ‘Hallo’ into it a few times, but no one answered. ‘No one’s answering,’ he said to the Head Porter. He, who, it seemed to Karl, was following the telephoning with particular interest, said, ‘It’s already a quarter to six. She’s bound to be awake. Ring louder.’ At that moment, without further prompting, the reply signal came. ‘Head Waiter Isbary speaking,’ said the Head Waiter. ‘Good morning, Head Cook. I haven’t woken you up, have I. I’m so sorry. Yes, yes, it’s a quarter to six already. Oh, I’m so sorry to give you a start. You ought to disconnect the telephone while you’re asleep. No, no, absolutely, it’s quite unpardonable, especially in view of the trifling matter I’m calling about. Yes, of course I have time, by all means, I’ll hold the line if that’s all right.’ ‘She must have run over to the telephone in her nightgown,’ said the Head Waiter with a smile to the Head Porter, who was crouching over the telephone box with an anxious expression on his face. ‘I really did wake her up, usually the little girl who does her typing wakes her, and she must have overslept today. It’s a shame I woke her, she’s nervous enough as it is.’ ‘Why isn’t she back yet?’ ‘She’s gone to see what’s the matter with the girl,’ replied the Head Waiter, with the earpiece pressed against his ear, as it was ringing again. ‘She’ll turn up,’ he said into the mouthpiece. ‘You mustn’t be so put out by everything, you need a good holiday. Now, what I wanted to discuss with you. There’s a lift-boy by the name of’ – he turned inquiringly to Karl, who, having been following closely, said his name – ‘by the name of Karl Rossmann, if I remember rightly, you took him under your wing a bit; I’m sorry to say he’s given you a poor reward for your kindness, he’s gone and left his post without permission, thereby causing me serious even incalculable consequences, and I have just fired him. I hope you won’t take it amiss. What’s that? Fired, yes, fired. But I told you, he left his post. No, I really can’t give in to you over this, my dear Head Cook. It’s a question of my authority, there’s a lot at stake, one rotten apple will spoil the whole barrelful. You need eyes in the back of your head, especially with those lift-boys. No, no, I’m afraid I can’t do you such a favour in this instance, anxious though I am always to be of service to you. And if I did let him stay in spite of everything, simply to keep my spleen functioning, it’s for your sake, yes yours, that he can’t stay. You look out for him in a way he certainly doesn’t deserve, and knowing both him and yourself as I do, I know that could only lead to your being gravely disappointed, which is something I want to spare you at any price. I say so quite openly, though the fellow’s buttoned his lip and is standing just a few feet away. He will be fired, no, no, Head Cook, dismissed, no no, he will be transferred to no other line of work, he is completely useless. Complaints are being voiced against him all the time. For example, the Head Porter, what’s that, Feodor, is incensed at the boy’s rudeness and impertinence. What, that’s not enough? My dear Head Cook, you’re denying your true nature on account of this boy. No please don’t give me such a hard time over this.’