64
PARTISAN REVIEW
taker's two little girls come out of the door across the hall and
take their places, full of curiosity, on either side of -Blumfeld. They
take the situation in much quicker than the boy and can not under–
stand why he does not come at once. Without taking their eyes off
Blumfeld, they beckon to Alfred, but can not fathom what it is he
expects for a present. Their curiosity torments them and they hop
from one foot to the other. Blumfeld laughs at them, as well as the
boy. The latter seems at last to have set everything straight in his
own mind and stiff and awkward, climbs up the steps. Not even
in
his gait does he belie his mother, who, for her part, now appears
in
the cellar door below. Blumfeld calls out 6verloudly so she will under–
stand him and, should it prove necessary, be able to supervise the
execution of his orders. "Upstairs in my room," says Blumfeld, "I
have two fine balls. Do you want them?" The boy simply makes a
wry face; he doesn't know how to act; he turns round and looks
down at his mother questioningly. The little girls, however, at once
begin to jump around Blumfeld and beg for the balls. "You may
play with them, too," he says, but waits for the boy's reply. He could
as easily give the balls to the little girls, but they seem too frivolous,
and at the moment he has more confidence in the boy. The latter,
in
the meantime, without any words being exchanged, has taken counsel
with his mother, and in reply to Blumfeld's repeated question, nods
his assent. "Then pay attention," says Blumfeld, gladly making
al–
lowances for not receiving any thanks for his gift, "your mother has
the key to my room, which you must borrow from her; here is the
key to my clothes closet, and in the clothes closet are the balls. Lock
up the closet and the room again carefully. You can do what you
want with the balls, only you must not bring them back again. Do
you understand?" But the boy, unfortunately, has not understood.
Blumfeld wanted to make everything especially clear to this infinitely
uncomprehending being, but precisely because of this he has repeated
everything too often, by turns mentioned keys, room
an~loset
so
often that the boy stares at him, not as though at a benefactor, but
rather as at a tempter. The little girls, who, of course, have under–
stood everything, crowd around Blumfeld stretching out their hands
for the key. "Wait a moment," he says, beginning to be annoyed over
the whole affair. Time is passing and he can not delay much longer.
If
only the charwoman would finally say she has understood
him
and will manage everything for the boy properly. But instead, she
continues to stand at the cellar door below, smiling affectedly as
timid deaf people do, and thinking, perhaps, that Blumfeld up there
has suddenly gone into raptures over her boy and is hearing
him
in
one of his fairy tales. Blumfeld, for his part, can not climb down
