Jordan ... you're an American?"
"Yes." -
Haltingly she read, "Profession: Actor."
"Yes." Even twenty years later it said so in my passport. I had insisted on that every time my passport had been renewed.
"What. . . what do you want from him?"
"Then you do know him."
"Yes ... no ... please, leave me alone!"
"Don't cry. You know him. You love him, I know all that." I showed her the money. "He can make a lot of money. Look."
"I don't know where he is! You can lock me up! You can beat me! I don't know!"
"Here. Another hundred for you." I stroked her hair. She cowered. She had probably never known gentleness. Still fearful but already half-trusting, she looked up to me. "He is not in Hamburg . . ."
"But you do see him. He comes to see you."
"Yes . . ." Choked, she said, "We are engaged . . . we're going to get married. Walter gave me his word of honor. As soon as he gets ahead a little. Then I don't have to . . ."
I stroked her face with the money. "This would help him."
"I ... I could call some of his friends, if it is really important."
"It is very important."
"Perhaps they would know where he is."
"Well, find out. Where is the telephone?"
"In Madam's office. But you must not come unless I call you."
"Okay. Tell his friends I have money. A lot of money." I drank a glass of champagne. Just in case. My car with my black bag was at the lower end of the Reeperbahn. For a man in my condition, even short distances became trying.
"Come, make the call," I said to Kathe. Champagne ran down my chin. I had drunk too fast.
Madam's offixe was next to the stairs. Through the glass in the upper part of the door, I saw Kathe make her call. When she put down the receiver and came to the door, her cheeks glowed with excitement.
"Come in. He'll call in a few minutes."
"Schauberg?"
"Yes."
The office was small. A typewriter and many binders in shelves gave evidence of a well-run business. We sat on an old couch. Kathe's blouse was still open. She looked at me, her hands folded. We could hear the noise and music from the bar.
"I hope it is true ... that Walter can really earn some money .. . honestly, I mean..."
"Naturally, honestly."
"He doesn't do anything dishonest, you know."
"I know."
"I love him so. And I would love to get married." She sighed. "Naturally, something will go wrong."
"Why should it?"
"I'm just unlucky. He ... he is well-educated, such a good man ... a doctor . .. and I..."
Sadly, she chewed her lower lips. "Fm sure you've noticed what's the matter with me."
"What is the matter with you."
"I'm stupid. Clumsy. Every time I open my mouth, I talk nonsense. And I believe everybody. When I came to the West—"
"When did you escape?"
"Two years ago. I was a tram conductress in Leipzig. As soon as I arrived in the West, I fell for the greatest scoundrel."
"You did?"
"He was good-looking, had a big car. He promised me my own apartment and fifteen hundred marks a month. I was only supposed to perform as a dancer. After three weeks, he made me sleep with the guests who came to his joint. And beat me black and blue if I said no. I'm just too stupid, too stupid!" Sadly, she touched her hand to her forehead. "If I hadn't met Dr. Schauberg, who knows what else would have happened to me ... Don't laugh!"
"I didn't laugh."
"I know what you're thinking. But I'm not like the others here. I have a future. I have his promise of marriage. The others don't have that."
Noise from above, and a woman screamed; I heard slaps.
"That's Nelly. Her fat guy is there today. He beats her."
"That's nice."
"It's only half as bad as it sounds. She puts on an act. If you knew what comes here . . . You should talk with the Mousetrap."
"Mousetrap?"
"That*s what we call Olga. She has a very rich guy from Dusseldorf. He comes every month. Gives her anything she wants. He always brings some mice."
"What kind of mice?"
"Cute little white mice with red eyes. She has to put
them into the tips of her shoes and walk around
"Yes." -
Haltingly she read, "Profession: Actor."
"Yes." Even twenty years later it said so in my passport. I had insisted on that every time my passport had been renewed.
"What. . . what do you want from him?"
"Then you do know him."
"Yes ... no ... please, leave me alone!"
"Don't cry. You know him. You love him, I know all that." I showed her the money. "He can make a lot of money. Look."
"I don't know where he is! You can lock me up! You can beat me! I don't know!"
"Here. Another hundred for you." I stroked her hair. She cowered. She had probably never known gentleness. Still fearful but already half-trusting, she looked up to me. "He is not in Hamburg . . ."
"But you do see him. He comes to see you."
"Yes . . ." Choked, she said, "We are engaged . . . we're going to get married. Walter gave me his word of honor. As soon as he gets ahead a little. Then I don't have to . . ."
I stroked her face with the money. "This would help him."
"I ... I could call some of his friends, if it is really important."
"It is very important."
"Perhaps they would know where he is."
"Well, find out. Where is the telephone?"
"In Madam's office. But you must not come unless I call you."
"Okay. Tell his friends I have money. A lot of money." I drank a glass of champagne. Just in case. My car with my black bag was at the lower end of the Reeperbahn. For a man in my condition, even short distances became trying.
"Come, make the call," I said to Kathe. Champagne ran down my chin. I had drunk too fast.
Madam's offixe was next to the stairs. Through the glass in the upper part of the door, I saw Kathe make her call. When she put down the receiver and came to the door, her cheeks glowed with excitement.
"Come in. He'll call in a few minutes."
"Schauberg?"
"Yes."
The office was small. A typewriter and many binders in shelves gave evidence of a well-run business. We sat on an old couch. Kathe's blouse was still open. She looked at me, her hands folded. We could hear the noise and music from the bar.
"I hope it is true ... that Walter can really earn some money .. . honestly, I mean..."
"Naturally, honestly."
"He doesn't do anything dishonest, you know."
"I know."
"I love him so. And I would love to get married." She sighed. "Naturally, something will go wrong."
"Why should it?"
"I'm just unlucky. He ... he is well-educated, such a good man ... a doctor . .. and I..."
Sadly, she chewed her lower lips. "Fm sure you've noticed what's the matter with me."
"What is the matter with you."
"I'm stupid. Clumsy. Every time I open my mouth, I talk nonsense. And I believe everybody. When I came to the West—"
"When did you escape?"
"Two years ago. I was a tram conductress in Leipzig. As soon as I arrived in the West, I fell for the greatest scoundrel."
"You did?"
"He was good-looking, had a big car. He promised me my own apartment and fifteen hundred marks a month. I was only supposed to perform as a dancer. After three weeks, he made me sleep with the guests who came to his joint. And beat me black and blue if I said no. I'm just too stupid, too stupid!" Sadly, she touched her hand to her forehead. "If I hadn't met Dr. Schauberg, who knows what else would have happened to me ... Don't laugh!"
"I didn't laugh."
"I know what you're thinking. But I'm not like the others here. I have a future. I have his promise of marriage. The others don't have that."
Noise from above, and a woman screamed; I heard slaps.
"That's Nelly. Her fat guy is there today. He beats her."
"That's nice."
"It's only half as bad as it sounds. She puts on an act. If you knew what comes here . . . You should talk with the Mousetrap."
"Mousetrap?"
"That*s what we call Olga. She has a very rich guy from Dusseldorf. He comes every month. Gives her anything she wants. He always brings some mice."
"What kind of mice?"
"Cute little white mice with red eyes. She has to put
them into the tips of her shoes and walk around
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