In the morning when Emil opened his eyes, he felt embarrassed, because he had slept through the night.
“It’s the first time that’s ever happened to me,” he told Karl. “Usually if I decide to get up in the middle of the night, I do it.”
Karl laughed, but he reassured his friend.
“You probably tired yourself out playing ball.”
Emil rested all day. When Hans invited him to play ball, he refused. But it didn’t help; for a second night he slept soundly.
“I forgot how to do it,” Emil complained. “This time I was sure I would do it. I shut my eyes tight, and I repeated to myself three times that I have to wake up in the middle of the night.”
Karl thought it was funny that Emil’s plan had failed twice.
“So why didn’t you get up and wake me?” Emil protested to his friend.
Karl wanted to answer him, but just then the door opened and in walked Matilda.
Both boys shouted so loudly that Matilda was overcome.
They leaped out of bed and clung to her, making it impossible for her to move.
“Do you love me so much?” she asked, beaming with joy.
“Even more,” answered Emil.
“We really missed you,” Karl said.
Matilda was overwhelmed by their greeting. She looked taller than usual. Wisps of gray hair stuck out from under her hat. Her large, dark eyes sparkled with laughter, and she smiled broadly. Karl thought that Matilda was just as beautiful as his mother, even though she had a small scar under her left eye.
Just then Emil noticed that Hans was missing. He started to look around the house, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Hans?” Emil asked, concerned.
Karl ran from one room to the next and returned, surprised.
“Hans disappeared. Where did he go?” he asked, frightened.
“Don’t be scared. He’ll be back later, in the evening,” Matilda said, taking off her wet raincoat.
It was raining heavily outside. Matilda shut the windows to keep out the cold air. Suddenly it became dark, as if it were already dusk. She lit the lamp, and the room was filled with shadows.
“It isn’t often that it’s so dark during the day. It’s only ten o’clock in the morning,” Matilda said, as she gave each of the boys a glass of milk.
“And don’t think that I forgot about you.”
Matilda took out two penknives. She opened up both of them to show that they had four blades each. Not only that—each knife also had a little scissors.
Karl’s eyes filled with tears. All at once he began to tell Matilda about the two penknives that Friedrich wanted to give them. Karl admitted that he was ready to accept the old man’s gift, but Emil didn’t want to. So they buried the knives near the house, with a piece of paper on which they had written, “Here lie two rotten knives.”
“I’m so proud of you, boys. You cannot know how proud I am,” Matilda said, drawing them close to her.
“And those penknives had only three blades,” Emil said happily. “And they didn’t have scissors, either.”
Matilda gave the boys something to eat. When they finished, and after they tried out their knives on pieces of paper, she explained that she wanted to tell them something—something extremely important.
“I’ve decided to tell you about a very serious matter,” Matilda began. “I’ve thought a great deal about whether or not I should tell you, but your story about the penknives convinced me that I can, because you are such thoughtful boys.
“Vienna has become a completely different city,” Matilda said.
“That’s just what my mother told me,” Karl said excitedly, as if he were hearing these words from his mother.
“Yes, your mother was right. This city is no longer recognizable. Don’t think that there are only two children like you in Vienna. There are hundreds of Emils and Karls. In all of Austria there are many thousands.”
Matilda sighed and then continued to speak.
“You’re a little better off than the other Emils and Karls who don’t even have a roof over their heads. They wander around, living from hand to mouth—hungry, naked, and barefoot.
“Our country is full of prisons now, tens of thousands of people have been locked up. They are suffering only because they dared to tell the truth. Many people have been murdered. And the Emils and Karls are being persecuted, too. The Emils are suffering twice as much, because they are Jews. You saw how they were being treated that Sunday in the park.”
“I was also treated like a Jew,” Karl said proudly. “I had to wash the pavement with soap that burned my hands.”
“Poor Karl, poor Emil, I don’t know what to say to you. You already know everything. But I must tell you that this won’t last forever. Thank God, we have Hans, and not just one Hans, but hundreds of Hanses.”
“Hans?” Both boys cried out, shocked. “Do you mean our Hans?”
“Yes, our Hans,” Matilda answered.
“I knew that something was going on,” said Karl. “What did I tell you, Emil?”
“Hans was once a famous vaudeville actor. He entertained tens of thousands of people,” Matilda explained. “But when Vienna began to change, he decided that the time for merrymaking had passed. He let his beard and his hair grow, so that no one would recognize him. It’s all a disguise.”
“You mean,” Emil said, “that he’s not—he’s not—”
“No, he’s not crazy. It’s about time that you boys knew. You have no idea how it has tormented Hans that he has also had to deceive you. He’ll be so happy when he returns tonight and finds out that he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you any more.”
Emil and Karl sat there, overwhelmed by what Matilda had told them.
All day long they asked her more questions. Matilda explained to them what Hans and his comrades were doing, how they risked their lives to distribute pamphlets and books, and how cleverly they went about this—how they printed pamphlets on cigarette paper, then wrapped them up and distributed them from house to house, how they made recordings of patriotic songs that ended with speeches denouncing the crimes of the current regime.
“And you, Aunt Matilda, what do you do?” Emil asked cautiously.
“I also help out. I do my share, too,” Matilda said, shyly, like a little girl.
“But in order to organize the work against this brutal regime, we have to have underground meetings. As you can imagine, these meetings are very dangerous—deadly dangerous, but Hans and his comrades are strong and brave.
“In fact, tonight they’re holding a meeting here in our house, in the room that we always keep dark,” Matilda said. “Several dozen people will be coming. They’ll get here late, just before midnight.”
“I’d like to come, too,” said Emil.
“Me too,” Karl asked.
“If you’re not tired, we’ll let you come to the meeting.”
Karl felt happy. It intrigued him that Matilda had called it an “underground” meeting. He remembered stories he’d once heard about underground caves and the sacks of gold and diamonds that lay hidden there.
“I wish it was already just before midnight,” said Karl. “I can hardly wait.”
Just then Hans appeared at the door. He stood there for a while and looked at Matilda.
“I’ve already told them all about it. It’s better that way. Emil and Karl are our children. They’ve been through enough, and they ought to know about everything.”
And as Matilda said these words, Hans went over to the boys and embraced them.
“My little friends, my little friends,” Hans said, his voice trembling.
It was too much for Emil. He began to cry.