Little Apple by Leo Perutz Read Free Book Online Page A

consolation is that in two months you'll feel just as I do. By the way, do you really think it'll be as simple as all that, getting back into Russia at this of all times?"
    Vit¬torin fixed him with a hostile, contemptuous gaze.
    "Simple or not, that's my concern," he said. "You've no need to worry about it, not now. Anything's possible if one wants it enough. Determination is the sole requirement, not that someone of your kind would understand that. Believe me, I'll deal with Selyukov even if you all let me down — even if I have to beg my way to Moscow on foot!"
    "Say no more, Vit¬torin," the Professor broke in. "You've just revealed the true nature of your hatred. It's an obsession, that's what it is. I strongly advise you to —"
    "Hey, Kohout!" yelled Blaschek. "Whassa matter with you? Aren't we going to grease the guillotines tonight?"
    "Patience, comrade," said Kohout. "All in good time, all in good time."
    He went to the piano and picked out the tune of the executioner's song with his left hand. Blaschek joined in at the top of his voice.
    Grease the guillotines,
    grease the guillotines,
    grease the guillotines with princes' fat!
    Seize the -
    "For God's sake stop, comrade!" Emperger cried desperately. "What are you thinking of? This really won't do. There's a senior civil servant living upstairs. He'll come and complain - he's already banged on the floor twice."
    "Let him come, the reactionary swine!" roared Blaschek. "Let him come, if he's got the guts - I'll knock him into the middle of next week! Come on, comrades, all together now: 'Seize the concubines, seize the concubines . . .'"
    The three girls withdrew to the outer room, arm in arm. Fräulein Hamburger shut the door behind her.
    "There's no holding them," she said. "Poor Rudi, he'll have some explaining to do tomorrow. Personally, I've had enough ofit."
    Vit¬torin turned to Feuerstein.
    "What about you?" he demanded. "Are you backing out too?"
    Feuerstein, who had once, not so long ago, declared that he could be relied on to the hilt, shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.
    "So be it," Vit¬torin growled. "I wash my hands of you both. There's nothing more to be said."
    Fräulein Hoffmann sidled up with an inquisitive air.
    "Have you had an argument?" she asked. "It almost looks that way. What was it about?"
    The Professor sat back in his chair, smiling. He exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke.
    "Oh, nothing much," he said. "It's just that my friend here insists on going to Moscow and killing a Russian officer."
    A prey to the three girls' vacuous, uproarious laughter, his face convulsed with anger, shame and dismay, Vit¬torin strode from the room. He had been betrayed and derided. There was no point in his remaining a moment longer.
    Outside in the hall, while the manservant was helping him on with his coat, which was still soaking wet, he had a brief conversation with Kohout.
    "It was bound to happen, my friend, I could have told you that in the first place," said Kohout, shifting from foot to foot. "The middle classes have no self-respect, no guts. Didn't you notice how Feuerstein and the Professor made themselves scarce when we were singing those revolutionary songs? What a crew!"
    Lola opened the box-room door an inch or two and peered in. Her brother was lying on his bed half-dressed, leafing through a notebook with a red cover. She went in.
    "So you're awake," she said. "If I'd known you weren't asleep I'd have come much earlier. Do you know what time it is? Quarter to eleven. You didn't come home till one, Father heard you. Did you have a nice time? Good morning, by the way. Like me to bring you some breakfast?"
    Georg Vit¬torin shut the notebook.
    "No thanks, I'll be out in a minute. I've been awake for ages. Just revising a bit of Russian, a few words and phrases - the kind of stuff you need to make yourself understood. Did I have a nice time? Depends on your point of view. It was an instructive evening, anyway. Something bothering you,