TEMPTATIONS OF DR. HOFFMANN
417
unnatural maturity she sometimes showed. To him she was an equal.
He loved her and she was crying!
Just as he was preparing to speak to her and to reassure her, a
strange thing happened to him. He looked away from Elsa, or rather
she seemed to vanish from his sight, and that frown of anguish I had
often seen on his face returned. I thought that a deep shiver passed
through his body, the physical evidence of a sudden revelation that
had enormous implications for him.
"Why didn't she come here with us?" Elsa went on desperately.
"She's nothing but a Nazi anyway. She would rather die than leave
Germany. It's a wonder you didn't stay with her, since you've. never
been happy away from her."
With great effort her father drew his attention back to her.
"What are you saying? What are you saying?" he kept repeating.
For a moment he seemed to entertain the hope that she might deny
what she had said, but this had to be abandoned. I imagined he knew
already that he could never forget Elsa's words no matter what hap–
pened; he was now too deep in his own recognition.
Elsa's venom spent itself quickly, as if she had, in that same
second when her father was staggering under a monstrously increased
burden of emotion, gone hollow and empty with the exhaustion of
release. She had just barely enough breath for her whimpering and
sobbing .and to say, "I'm sorry." Then she went quietly and quickly
into her room and closed the door behind her.
·
I was anxious to get away and was relieved that Dr. Hoffmann
haq ignored me. He was a man of such passion that his feelings could
shut him off from the world and he sat there wrinkling his mouth,
shaking his head, fighting
his
tears as if he were alone. I got up and
tip-toed to the door, but he stopped me. "Do you suppose it's true?"
he asked. I offered no answer, but I could tell from the despair in
his
voice that he had answered
his
own question.
"Good night, Dr. Hoffmann," I said, as casually as I was able.
He seemed not to hear me and as I closed the door he was
whispering to himself, "Mother, release me! Release me!"
Back in my room I felt guilty about Dr. Hoffmann and hoped
to put him out of my mind, but I found that in spite of my good inten–
tions I was trying to put
his
life together and to find some answer
to the question of his religious faith. A rather neat ca<>e was available
to me. This despondent man was struggling to the depths of his being
with a real situation, one that had marked and maimed him long
before he was old enough to know God, theology or philosophy.
