chapter twenty

Karl woke up laughing. He’d had a happy dream and started to laugh while he was still asleep. He dreamed that his mother was tickling the soles of his feet the way she often used to when she woke him up to go to school.

His laughter also awakened Emil, who rubbed his eyes, wondering what was happening.

From the other room they heard Hans’s voice. He was singing softly, as if trying not to wake them up.

Karl began to imitate Hans’s deep voice. He sang so loudly that Hans, with his mop of hair and unkempt beard, appeared in the doorway.

“Lazybones!” Hans shouted. “Time to get out of bed and eat breakfast. Did my singing wake you up?” he asked, concerned.

“No,” Karl answered, still singing. “Good morning, Uncle Hans! Good morning, Aunt Matilda!” Karl sang out.

“Aunt Matilda’s not here. She won’t be back until late tonight, so you have to eat whatever I give you.”

“Aunt Matilda’s no good,” said Emil, still lying in bed. “She’s always going away.”

“Aunt Matilda has important work to do, very important work,” Hans said, emphatically.

Emil suddenly remembered the meeting of the night before, and he no longer felt upset about Matilda. He was glad she was out at work. He was sure that whatever she was doing was necessary.

Emil and Karl dressed and ate quickly. The sun beckoned to them through the open door. They wanted to go outside and play ball as soon as possible.

“Today I’m a free man and can play with you,” said Hans. “We can play for at least an hour, and afterward we’ll take a walk in the woods nearby. I’ll make each of you a walking stick, and then we’ll hike and hike until we build up an appetite.”

“Great!” Emil danced for joy. “It’s been such a long time since we went for a walk. We’ll have a good time today.”

“You lazybones!” Hans shouted, pretending to be angry. “Don’t you miss going to school?”

“I forgot all about school,” Karl admitted.

“I haven’t thought about it, either,” said Emil.

“But that’s just why Aunt Matilda and I have not forgotten about it. We’ve decided that tomorrow you’re going to get back to your studies. We’ll make a real school, right here. We’ll do it on a daily basis—one day I’ll be your teacher, and the next day Matilda will teach you. Aunt Matilda knows a lot of nice songs, and I’ll be in charge of giving out punishments. But for now, we’ll forget about school.”

Hans took them by the hand and led them outside. He took a ball from his pocket, and soon it was flying back and forth among them.

All at once, Hans froze. Emil threw the ball to him, but Hans didn’t catch it. The ball rolled away, but Hans still stood there, immobile.

“I hear footsteps,” he said, frightened. Karl also heard them, but he didn’t understand why Hans had become so alarmed.

“That must be Aunt Matilda,” said Emil.

“No,” Hans replied, very quietly. “Matilda won’t be back until very late.”

The steps came closer, and within a minute Hans’s face had completely changed. Now he looked just the way the boys had seen him that first time in the park, when the green and red leaflets went flying through the air. He broke out laughing in that peculiar way of his that Emil and Karl had forgotten.

“Heil!” he screamed with all of his might. “Heil!”

Emil and Karl couldn’t take their eyes off him. They stood there, frozen. Suddenly they heard a heavy voice answer Hans with a “Heil.”

A tall, middle-aged man stood near Hans. Hans did a somersault, then another one.

“This is good! This is good!” he shouted, and once more let out a laugh ending with a shriek that almost sounded like crying.

Suddenly, three more men appeared. One was fat, with a huge stomach. He went right up to Hans. Hans continued to shout “Heil” to each of the men. The fat man stood and looked at Hans, then shook his head and smiled.

“A very pretty comedy!” The fat man said to the other three, clapping his hands. “Excellent! Very amusing! But the game is over. Yes, the curtain has fallen. Bravo, bravo!” He clapped his hands, as though he were applauding a real play. “Viktor Schackeldorf, you can stop playing your comedy.”

Hans stood up straight. He looked at all four men, as if he noticed them for the first time.

All at once he started to move.

“Stay right where you are,” the fat man shouted with all his might, “or I’ll shoot.”

But it was too late. Hans punched one of the other men in the face. “Dirty traitor!” Hans said so quietly that he could barely be heard.

The man he struck moved slowly—almost as if he was expecting to be hit—and took out a handkerchief to wipe away the blood over his left eye.

“I couldn’t help it, Schackeldorf,” he said in a voice even lower than Hans’s. “It’s not my fault.”

“I’m ready,” Hans said. “Let me go into the house for just a moment.”

“Absolutely not,” said the fat man, drily.

“Not even if you go in with me?” asked Hans.

“No.”

“Let me at least say good-bye to the children.”

“No!” the fat man replied mechanically.

“In that case, then, I’m ready. Good-bye, Emil and Karl. Good-bye!”

The fat man ordered two of the others to go inside and inspect the house. They came out with some books and papers and lots of leaflets. The fat man took them and looked over each item separately. All the while he kept looking up at Hans, who stared back with sharp, piercing eyes.

A few minutes later, the five men seemed like five shadows. A train approached. When it left, they were no longer to be seen.

From the distance the signalman waved his little flag. He came straight over to the two boys.

“Who were those men that took Hans away?” he asked. Emil and Karl didn’t respond.

“Where is Matilda?”

The boys said nothing.

“Did they arrest him? It’s not true, is it?” he shouted, as if trying to awaken them from sleep.

Emil and Karl began to sob.

The signalman sat down on a rock. He smoked his pipe quietly.

“I’m an old man, I won’t live much longer,” he said, as though trying to comfort himself.

He inhaled and then let out a large cloud of smoke. “Did they really arrest Hans? Unbelievable!” he continued to argue with himself. “Funny! Ha!” He let out a sharp laugh. He puffed on his pipe and made a gesture with his hand.

“I’m an old man. It can’t last much longer.”