Outside of the house Perlefter indulged himself in numerous luxuries. At home he absolutely eschewed all delicacies such as chocolates, figs or crystallized fruit. For he wanted to show that he was ‘not a pig’ and he feared that a father who doles out sweets loses authority over his children. On the way home, however, he happily stopped at the confectioner’s and had himself a bite to eat. Sometimes chocolate could be found in his coat pocket in rustling tin foil. This chocolate was usually discovered by his oldest daughter. She came smiling to Perlefter, who then said, ‘Oh dear! I meant to bring this to you! I completely forgot about it! Perhaps, come to think of it, I even ate half!’ And she didn’t doubt his word.
Only his son, who was known as Fredy, enjoyed as many freedoms as Perlefter. Around the time when Perlefter took off in the aeroplane he began to grow and become healthy. When I had arrived he was a cry-baby. Eventually he grew into a mischievous and stupid boy. I really noticed changes as the years passed. Yes, they passed, and Fredy grew. His voice slid into those depths of melancholy descant to which notes of barbarism and sentimentality lend a manly tone. Fredy developed a gradual inclination towards servant girls and in equal measure developed his muscles. He had friends. They came to the house on Saturday afternoons – young men with slicked-back hair in excellent suits with golden bracelets and silk handkerchiefs in their left jacket pockets; young men with smooth faces and abbreviated foreheads. They played whist, they brought liqueur with them, nothing but sweet liqueurs, and amused themselves with confectionary and smoked cigarettes, inhaling each pull with evident pleasure. I never heard them speak of literature. From the pockets of their coats, which were visible in the corridor, protruded colourful magazines dealing with sports, love and ‘society’. The young men read fashion magazines. They wanted to look like tailors’ models, and they succeeded. It was precisely these young men who set the tone of the city. With a magical swiftness they passed the examination that opened the door to admission into the different universities around the country. Were they not so rich one would have to believe that they were brilliant. Together they joined rowing clubs, they played tennis, they did gymnastics and fencing, some had horses, and they all said they had genuine horseman’s legs even if they had, actually, been bowed by a combination of nature and birth into the high life. Each wore a badge in his buttonhole. They were the sons of the Moderate Party and consequently had no political convictions. Young people in bad circumstances are radicals, as they blame the political system for their personal misfortunes. These young men, however, had it so good that to them all political viewpoints were the same. They were thus the future of the Moderate Party. It is an error to believe that the moderate parties of all countries have no future. So long as there are those who can afford the luxury of indifference there will also be moderate people. One might have said that these young men were reasonable enough to remain in the middle. It was actually more like satisfied enough. They were protected on all sides, as they had not severed any ties. They were not strong opponents, nor did they have any.
Such were these young men. Those of them who claimed the spirit fancied themselves to be homosexual, although they liked young girls better. They made off with girls, too, if nobody noticed. As for the young Fredy Perlefter he was still wavering over which sex to choose. But after it became clear to him that he would carry on his father’s business he decided upon normal sexual intercourse. It was good to see, as the true nature of the young man gradually broke through. He shed the illness of his childhood days like one outgrows old clothes and in the course of several months became a hero and a sportsman. At the same time his face was also changing, becoming ever more the old, round and slightly girlish face of Perlefter. Fredy’s eyes were also colourless and played the events of the world without surprise, wonder, love, compassion or bitterness. With a fearlessness that left him unfazed he plunged into various hazardous sports, and while his family feared for him he won first prize in swimming, track and field and winter sports, and his foolish face graced the illustrated newspapers. I believe that he had no idea he was placing himself voluntarily in the proximity of Death and was not sensible enough to have fear. He had only ambition. He wanted to be the spoiled darling of the family and remain that way, achieving it indirectly by means of heroism. Thus he and his father, in different ways, both arrived at the same goal. Fredy liked to complain about sore muscles. He had ‘trained’ too hard. He showed several bruises. For weeks he had an arm in a black sling. His mother fed him. One had to hold his jacket and put his socks on for him. After he had definitively decided on the female sex he slept with one of the servant girls and earned himself his first sexually transmitted disease, of which he was quite proud and of which the entire family knew but about which nobody spoke. The servant girl left the house and took a silver service along with her. For weeks this service was the topic of conversation. The oldest daughter maintained that it was silver plate and a wedding gift from Herr Hahn who gave nothing real. Frau Perlefter cried anyway. For her it was silver. To annoy his sister Fredy said that he himself had seen the mark. It was silver. Frau Perlefter’s widowed sister, who delighted in the losses of others, confirmed Fredy’s assertion.
Fredy loved to recount his various adventures. There was always something happening wherever he found himself. Horses bucked, automobiles crashed into each other, old women were crushed under the wheels, streetcars ran out of power, drunks fought each other, a girl dropped a milk pot. There was nothing too trivial. Everything that happened was worth recounting. Fredy recorded in a notebook the various jokes he had heard. He read some of them out. The others, he said, were unsuitable for women. Nevertheless he was asked to tell them. He recounted them in a low voice, and his sisters acted as if they had not heard. Regardless, they left the room immediately after the punch-line. Fredy rode every morning in the hippodrome. By lunchtime he claimed he could not sit. A gallop had ‘upset’ him. He drank his soup standing. After the meal he sat down. He had forgotten the galloping. He was regarded within the wide circle of family as a dangerous heart-breaker. He struck up a conversation with young girls in front of the department store. Then he wrote them letters. He showed these missives to his sisters.
‘You’re not going to believe it!’ he said. ‘This Margot is from one of the best houses.’
Frau Perlefter was convinced that all the daughters of the bourgeois houses were in love with Fredy. At one point he made the acquaintance of a Hungarian journalist named Roney. Herr Roney was looking for a wealthy man for a singer named Ilona. He found Fredy Perlefter, and all three were satisfied. Ilona didn’t like Fredy at all. He didn’t love her either. But her name was in the newspapers and on the billboards. The Perlefter family went to films in which she played a supporting role and to the cabarets in which she sang. Ilona was not so young any more. Her picture stood on Fredy’s writing-table along with a couple of letters written in large stiff strokes on pale purple paper. The letters lay there, casually strewn across his desk, and his sisters secretly read them. Fredy came home and said bitterly, ‘You’ve already read my letters!’ but was actually pleased.
Since Fredy ‘had something’ with Ilona, he entered into those wonderful circles where art blends with sin and justifies it. Behind the scenes it was quite different. Outside the boundaries of middle-class society much was not only permitted but also desirable. ‘Art’ legitimizes even debauchery. Through his relationships within the arts Fredy put the whole family into an adventurous mood. Fredy used up half of Frau Perlefter’s spending money. He wore, henceforth, silk shirts and gave his opinion on his sisters’ clothing. He must have known what attracted those women living in that world in which the main thing was the effect, the effect about which people would gossip. Frau Perlefter and her daughters were far removed from wishing to be such a woman as Ilona. But to be mistaken for an Ilona in certain circumstances was the dream of the Perlefter girls. There came a free spirit to their clothes, a new rhythm in their lives; their appearance received a fantast
ic boost; they let each other tell jokes without embarrassment any more and spoke with frank gestures of truths which for girls of good families should be but fairy-tales.
Yes, with the entry of this Ilona into Fredy’s life a lot changed. One even spoke about his long and torturous sexually transmitted disease, and Frau Perlefter, feeling left out, asked Fredy all kinds of discrete details. The boy had to invent them in order to avoid losing his reputation. He had made love to Ilona three times and endured her and her friends for three months. The letters stopped. He began speaking to young girls again, and as he had already indulged in the realm of the arts he no longer wrote to girls who were the daughters of wealthy citizens but, rather, to the denizens of the theatre world. Within the family, however, reverence and awe for the first in the series of artists, Fräulein Ilona, were preserved. Quite often a family member came across her name in the newspaper, spoke her name aloud, and distant relatives who were reliant upon Perlefter’s good will came to tell that they had heard and read of Ilona’s latest ventures.
Fredy didn’t cry over her. She had given him what he needed: calm at home and validation of his reputation as a seducer. He went to the summer resorts and the winter spas and received innocent postcards from his sports partners. The family took each harmless greeting as a clandestine confession of love. Fredy’s actual affairs were with hotel chambermaids and a generally available widow whom he considered the great love of his life. The Perlefters had no anxiety that their son would forget himself and marry a pretty woman without any money. They knew him, the family, and they trusted in the power of the blood.
And it truly seemed that Fredy was letting his eyes roam over the daughters of the land in order to locate love and a dowry to defray its cost. It was clear to him that he must have an attractive wife. Although she should have money she should also be generally pleasing to men. There existed this type of girl in the world, and Fredy courted them. He spoke with them about respectable things. He read a couple of books to acquire potential topics of conversation, and he believed that I could be a valued guide for him in these matters. I recommended history books to Fredy, for I believed that the best way to impress educated women was by spouting forth dates. I had no experience with educated young women. But I soon learned from Fredy that they were bored by historical dates. I picked up a book on art history and recommended a conversation about paintings. These women didn’t go to museums on their own. I resorted to natural history. Fredy read the chapter in which the piquant processes of the science of procreation and reproduction are detailed and was henceforth no longer reluctant to discuss natural history. And he would have luck with it, for he soon began to court a young girl whose father owned a majority stake in the Hinke Beer Brewery. It seemed that Fredy’s scientific references made an impression on the girl. Fredy was invited ‘to the house’. He brought a bouquet of flowers, and he went by automobile. I have never in my life seen a bouquet like that. It was expensive, discrete and exotic, and yet it was still winter. Who knew from what garden these flowers had come? Perhaps they cemented the relationship.
Everyone awaited Perlefter’s return. A celebratory atmosphere spread through the house as if in anticipation of joyous events. Fredy received no more letters. Suddenly he had grown and was ready to become engaged. While I squandered my formative years with useless thoughts, he grew into mature adolescence and positioned himself into a profitable marriage. He was a splendid boy, and he fulfilled his destiny in an exemplary fashion and to everyone’s satisfaction.
V
Unfortunately Fredy’s engagement could not be officially celebrated. You see, one had to consider his sister, who was older than he. And, as far as anyone knew there was not a suitor in sight.
It was a shame. The eldest had already dispensed with men. She was, unfortunately, named Karoline, and that troubled her and paralysed her courage before men. Although known as Line in the family that also irritated her. She had once been pretty; to me she’d once been very pretty. Oh, as I arrived at Perlefter’s she still wore her hair in a ponytail and swayed her hips when she walked. Her hair was brown, hard, crackling and unruly. She was very arrogant, little Karoline. She was a character. She didn’t cry; or, more accurately, at least not when anyone could hear her, for her small grey malevolent eyes were often red. She was the wisest and most taciturn member of the family. She was always sitting with books and always achieved the best grades and was rarely sick. Back when I still played with the children she tormented me the least. She isolated herself from me, and there was always some invisible fence around her. She read the most books and always placed one on her lap when she came to the table and hastily gulped down each bite so she could return to reading. At night it was her light that burned the longest.
But it seems that the education of a young girl can damage her charms. For, although Karoline had reached that age when she was not yet quite marriageable but at the point when an interest in men should have awoken within her, it proved that she had absolutely no interest either in her own appearance or in men. Indeed Karoline wore her crackling, unruly, provocative hair smooth and brushed back, and as a result one saw that she had a high, pale, arched mathematical brow and small, pretty earlobes whose delicacy was lost in consideration of this significant forehead. Every young man grew afraid of this head. Every man had to take this girl seriously and consequently could not fall in love with her.
Karoline studied mathematics and physics and was an assistant in some scientific institute. There she put on her heelless sandals, a blue work uniform, took a manly umbrella in her hand and in her wide breast pocket were jingling keys and a glasses case of black cardboard. Karoline was converted into a doctor.
The family praised her delicate ears and her hair, which to them and others were more consoling than the scientific standing of their daughter. But soon even the family succumbed to the allure that seems to surround laboratories and assistants, and everyone admired the achievements of such a young child.
‘She should have a husband,’ said Frau Perlefter.
Karoline became angry when one spoke of her. She rushed out of the room and slammed the door shut; the walls shook, and from behind the door one could hear sobbing.
It was customary in the Perlefter family that everyone kissed one another. Only Karoline kissed nobody. At great celebrations, at farewells and birthdays, she blew cool fleeting kisses from indifferent cheeks.
She had cold dry hands with pale, flat fingers. Her fingers looked like rules.
A husband was sought for her.
Sometimes Tante Kempen came; she had already dealt with many girls in the family. Tante Kempen had large brown shining eyes that seemed to absorb everything but in reality were practically blind. Glasses had been prescribed which, out of vanity, she spurned.
She knew all the suitable families, this Tante Kempen. Every week she was invited to a different house. She was like a wandering spider, spinning her web from one corner of the city to another or like a wind distributing fruit seeds around the world.
Tante Kempen had identified a man for Karoline. He was a lecturer who needed money in order to become a professor without worries, a scholar, a pleasant, forgetful young man. But Karoline was terrified of scholars.
The Perlefter family didn’t know what to do. Frau Kempen began to consider the other daughters. In any case, Karoline went her own way, and I will get to this later when the occasion arises.
Frau Kempen focused on the second child, who was called Julie. She was gentle, pale, anaemic, and she drank Chinese wine and swallowed iron pills that caused chronic constipation. The doctor ordered her to take walks, but to do so Julie would need comfortable sandals of the type her sister Karoline wore.
Julie wore vain high heels and small patent-leather boots that caused her pain. She liked to buy fabric, colourful scraps of lace which she stored in the drawer of her chest. What she liked most was to lie on a cold bed and sort remnants of silk. She had four seamstresses, for new and old clothes, for
both alterations and ‘modernization’. All the men liked Julie, and she left the selection up to Tante Kempen.
Herr Perlefter, who was ever practical, wanted to have an engineer in the family but not the type who could design bridges. Herr Perlefter wanted a practical building engineer who could appraise a house. During this time there were many inexpensive homes being constructed, but each appraisal cost ‘a fortune’. And yet engineers earned so little. Perlefter wanted to have a handyman in the house.
Frau Kempen searched frantically and could find only an architect with artistic ambitions.
But he had a studio. He gave parties. One spoke of his reckless life, and a report from the Argus Detective Agency revealed that he had considerable debt. The worst was that his family was unknown, that he was ‘alone in the world’. Argus could not discover the profession of his father.
‘Perhaps’, said Herr Perlefter, ‘his father was a bartender or a pimp or a brothel owner. Who knows? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!’
It was quite hopeless. Frau Kempen could not even get the Perlefters to invite this young man over ‘without obligation’. She thus turned her attention to the third daughter without the second being completely removed from her thoughts.
The third daughter was the most prettily named, Margarete, and she deserved this apellation. She was lovely. Yes, I liked her. Had custom not demanded that an errand boy not fall in love with his employer’s daughter I would certainly have fallen in love with Margarete, but back then I was still a messenger for Perlefter. Later I saw that it was a good thing I did not give my heart to Margarete. You see, she was an unhappy person.