56
PARTISAN REVIEW
paratively big balls, bouncing in the open room, and there is no
electrical experiment being performed. Blumfeld bends down to look
at them more closely. They are without doubt ordinary balls; they
probably have inside them some still smaller balls and these produce
the rattling noise. Blumfeld snatches in the air to make certain they
are not hanging by some thread. No, they are moving entirely on
their own. What a pity Blumfeld is not a little child; two balls like
these would have been a happy surprise for him, while as it is the
whole affair makes a rather disagreeable impression. Still, it is not
entirely without value to live only in private as an inconspicuous bach–
elor; for now someone, no matter who, has relieved this privacy and
sent in to him these two comical balls.
He tries to catch one, but they give way before him and lure
him into the room behind. It is so stupid, he thinks, to run after
the balls in this way; h.e stands still and watches how, once the chase
seems abandoned, they stay in the same spot. I'm going to try to catch
them all the same, he thinks once more, and hurries after them. They
instantly take flight, but spreading his legs, Blumfeld crowds them
into a corner, and in front of the chest that stands there succeeds
in
catching one ball. It is a cool little ball and twists about in his hand,
obviously trying to escape. And the other ball, when it sees the plight
of its comrade, bounces even higher than before, extending its leaps
till it touches Blumfeld's hand. It strikes against his hand, strikes
in
constantly quicker bounds; then changes its point of attack and
since it can do nothing against the hand that entirely encloses the ball,
leaps still higher, apparently trying to reach Blumfeld's face. Blumfeld
could have caught this ball, too, and locked them both away some–
where; but at the moment it seems too degrading to take such mass
measures against two little balls. It is even a joke for him to possess
two such balls. FurtheiJllore, they will soon get tired and roll under
a chest and be still. But despite this consideration Blumfeld throws
the ball to the floor with a kind of contempt; it is a wonder that the
frail, almost transparent shell did not shatter to bits. Without pause
the two balls again take up their low, mutually discordant bouncing
as before.
Blumfeld undresses quietly and arranges his clothes in the ward–
robe; he always looks to see
if
the charwoman has left everything
in
order. Once or twice he looks over his shoulder at the balls, which,
now free of pursuit, seem even to be pursuing him; they have followed
him and are now bouncing away right behind him. Blumfeld puts on
his dressing gown and then feels like crossing over to the opposite
wall to get one of his pipes, which are hanging there in a rack. Be–
fore turning round, he involuntarily strikes out behind with one foot,
