Perlefter by Joseph Roth Read Free Book Online Page B

house. He could control nobody else. Not his friends nor his employees. He could dominate only his family members, for they were even weaker, even more anxious, even more weak-willed than Perlefter himself. They lived in a wealthy household – for he earned and had money – and yet it was a poor household, filled with sighs, worries and bills. The family was convinced that Perlefter was overworked, that he did not sleep, that he was constantly struggling to earn his daily bread, that for him every expense brought new worries. Therefore the family spent not a single penny without concern. There was no joy in this house without underlying grief, no celebrations without pain, no birthdays without illness, no wine without bitterness. One cooked and baked, managed the wash and clothes, furniture, rugs and jewellery, but none of these things in sufficient quantity – on the contrary, it was just the bare minimum, never enough for anything. It was never, ever enough. There was fine cake but cut in such thin slices that one could not taste its quality. Good meat was purchased and chopped into tiny portions. A soup wascooked that would have caused a sensation if only one had the chance actually to taste it. Fourteen guests were invited, but the meal was just enough for twelve. In the ice box were the laughable leftovers, about which one worried as if over the fading life of a dying child. There lay, still and timid, a plate of miserable heaps of butter, yellow and melting into a puddle, awaiting its end. The children’s leftovers were rescued from their plates at lunch and the meat chopped up and used to make dinner. Somewhere within closed cabinets dry yellow cake awaited a special occasion. Such an occasion came. It was realized that the cake might endanger the teeth of the guests. Accordingly it was put into the oven to soften, but instead it got charred. It came to the table blackened with a hard carbonized crust. One had to scrape away the crust with a knife. The apples shrank smaller and smaller; they became puckered and the size of cherries. Old oranges grew mouldy and became silvery. The cheapest fruit was purchased. The plums had splits, and their reddish flesh swelled like that of a wounded person. Over the course of time the Emmental lost its moisture and was hard as the wood that Perlefter bought. From twenty different bottles you could gather altogether sixty drops of liquor. In the cigar boxes, which were intended for guests, could be found only one layer of cigars. The curtain ropes were broken for months. One closed the curtains by hand, pulled them together, but they didn’t work as desired; they refused. All objects were in a state of permanent opposition. The doors creaked. They had cracks thewidth of a finger and let the cold air through. Into the large furnace were placed tiny pieces of coal. The humidifier didn’t work. The best carpets lay rolled up in the attic, covered with a bunch of newspapers. Torn linoleum was spread on the tables. The pretty red-velvet chairs were covered in white linen, like furniture corpses eerily awaiting their funeral. The flower vases lacked their bases. The coffee service had only nine cups; the tenth was cracked. Near the crystal fruit bowl lay its broken handle. After being worn down through so much use the knives had thin and flexible blades like fencing foils. They were blunt and had to be sharpened daily in the kitchen on the edge of an earthenware pot. The piano was ever out of tune, for Perlefter had bought the cheapest one – one of the oldest – at half price. It was a bargain. The gramophone was hoarse; the records lay worn and dusty in an old cylindrical case. Two pendulum clocks stood, both missing their weights. The alarm clock rang only once a week and only when one was not expecting it, usually after midnight. The doorbell did not work, and on the door was ever the reminder ‘Knock loudly!’ All the family’s umbrellas were