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Updated: June 18, 2025
In order to take the sting out of his impudent insinuations, for he regretted having made a premature move with his trump card, Carovius smiled in a scurrilous fashion, ducked his head, coward that he was, and riveted his greedy, banal eyes on Benda. But Benda was looking down. His eyes had been attracted by the fancy buckle shoes of Herr Carovius.
Dorothea had succeeded in making it clear to her father that it would be highly advantageous to her, as the nearest relative, to show Herr Carovius every conceivable favour. Andreas Döderlein baulked at first; but he could not refuse recognition to the far-seeing penetration of his daughter.
She was working hard to make him yield; she said she was not going to leave until she had put the mask on his face. Herr Carovius shook the door, which in the meantime had closed, fumbled about in his pockets for the key, but the girl gave him no peace. “Come now, Teddy,” she kept crying, “come, Uncle, don’t be such an old bore.” She kept getting closer and closer to him.
Eberhard sprang from his bed with an exclamation of rage, and Herr Carovius left immediately and unceremoniously. Herr Carovius loved to complain. He ran around the table, exclaiming that he was ruined.
“What is this I hear about you and the women?” asked Herr Carovius one day. “What about a little adventure?” He had noticed that the Baron had a secret; and it enraged him to think that he could not get at the bottom of this amorous mystery. He made this discovery one day as Eberhard was packing his trunk. “Where are you going, my dear friend?” he crowed in exclamatory dismay.
At times Marguerite would come out quite timidly, and look up; at times Benda appeared, and stood for a while at the window completely absorbed, as it seemed, in melancholy thoughts. Herr Carovius caught them together but on one single occasion.
Between Friday and Sunday he thinks with lustful horror of the inhabitants with their bloated or emaciated bodies and the sad or intoxicated stare of their eyes. Herr Carovius wended his way to this quarter of the city.
He heard, too, that night after night she sat by the child’s bedside watching over her and praying for her, while the child herself slept like an old shoe. All this he learned from the maid. One day Herr Carovius came home, and found an ambulance and a crowd of gaping people before the house. As he went up the stairway he heard a hushed whimpering.
Eberhard replied sulkily that he could do about that as he saw fit, but he must not mention his name to a third party. A few days later Herr Carovius told a tale, of hair-splitting negotiations: there was a middleman who demanded immodest guarantees, including certified notes.
And Philippina—she had never taken her eyes off the floor the entire evening—seemed to be utterly unconscious of the fact at present that she was surrounded by houses and people. She was a defeated woman; she wanted to be. She had much to conceal; her young breast was a hell of emotions, but her ugly, gloomy old face was as inanimate and empty as a stone. Herr Carovius waited at the gate.
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