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Updated: June 11, 2025
The directors felt obliged to send Alfons Diruf a critical memorandum explaining Jordan’s case, and showing that he was no longer as efficient as he used to be. Daniel had grown tired of his room in the attic and the society of brush-maker Hadebusch. He announced that he was going to move. Surrounded by a cloud of smells from boiled cabbage, Frau Hadebusch raged about the ingratitude of man.
Frau Hadebusch brought him some water. The American put on his clothes, while the spectators looked on and laughed. The two men were then taken to the police station, where the lieutenant in charge took such depositions as were necessary for court action. Daniel saw a gas lamp, a quill pen, several grinning faces, his own bloody hand, and nothing more.
In short, any man who could get her would be a subject for real congratulations.” To Philippina Frau Hadebusch said: “Dorn—he can write as no one else on this earth. Oh, you ought to see him swing a pen! He limps a little, but what of it? Just think how many people go around on two sound legs, but have their heads all full of rubbish! But Dorn! He’s whole cloth and a yard wide!
Frau Hadebusch came in with a tub of hot water: “This is no place for men,” she exclaimed with a kindly twisting of her face, took Daniel by the shoulder, and pushed him out the door. Little Agnes was standing in the hall. “Father,” she said. “Put that child to bed!” said Daniel, turning to Philippina. Jordan came out of the kitchen. He held an earthen bowl of soup in his hand.
She won’t rent; she says she don’t want the trouble. You know she’s no young woman any more. She is all alone, mind you. No one there but her son, and he’s cracked. Honest, the boy ain’t right.” “Well, you go and talk it over with Frau Hadebusch, Philippina,” said Dorothea timidly.
Achim von Arnim and Jean Paul were his guides in those days: the one adorned the world of the senses for him, the other that of the soul. On the police department’s identification blank Daniel had called himself a musician. Frau Hadebusch brought the paper into her living room, which, like all the rooms of the house, seemed built for dwarfs and reeked of limewater and lye.
Standing around him were the physician, Frau Hadebusch, and Philippina. The doctor said something at which Daniel shook his head. It sounded like: “Unfortunately I cannot keep the sad news from you.” Daniel did not understand him; he drew his lips apart, and thought: “The idea of dreaming such disordered stuff!”
The scream was repeated, this time in a more piercing tone. Dorothea was lying on a big bed with nothing on but a flimsy chemise. Frau Hadebusch, pimp always, had rented the bed from a second-hand dealer; it covered a half of the room. Before Dorothea was a plate of cherries; she had been amusing herself by shooting the pits at her lover.
Jason Philip hurled a glance of contempt at the blasphemous wretch, and drew Marian away with him. To the very corner of the alley they were accompanied by the excited voices of the people in the Vale of Tears. Next morning Marian returned to Eschenbach. Daniel had rented a room of the brush-maker Hadebusch and his wife, who lived on Jacob’s Square behind the church.
“Don’t whine all the time so!” shrieked Philippina. She was chewing her finger nails, hardly able to conceal her embarrassment. Frau Hadebusch had told her that Benjamin Dorn was coming around that evening to make a formal proposal of marriage. “Just wait, Agnes, just wait!” continued old Jordan, “you’ll soon get to see a wonder of a doll. A few short years, and the world will be astonished.
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