PARTISAN REVIEW
very deep vertical lines at the corners was that of a tragicomic Christ.
When in the world of Fraulein Thurau's reception room one looked at
this mouth one expected it at any moment to give a sour grimace,
and then to say quietly: "It
is
finished." And in fact, this was the
hour of grave pronouncements. "That is the last time I ever go to
the Cosy Corner. They can sink or swim without me." Or: "Do you
know what that bitch Sally said to me last night?" "No." She said:
"Perhaps one day, Christopher darling, you will write something real–
ly great, like Noel Coward." Or: "Mr. Norris has been caught." Or:
"I have given Fraulein Thurau notice. I will not live under the same
roof as Bobbi an instant longer." Or, merely, and most grimly of all:
"Otto wants a new suit."
I entered so completely into Christopher's moods that although
I was partly entertained by these pronouncements, they also inspired
me with a certain apprehension, and, as we went down the stairs _into
the street, I felt the oppression of the silence which follows fateful
news. Secretly I was disappointed by the fact that Christopher's
dramas rarely ended with complete catharsis. All the people who had
fallen into disgrace were soon taken back into favour, for Christopher,
so far from being the self-effacing spectator called Herr Ishyvoo in
his novels, was, as is obvious, really the center of
his
characters, and
neither could they exist without him nor he without them.
We would then have a meal consisting of watery soup followed
by some frightful meat. Eating such food was a kind of penance which
Christopher's psychology imposed on him and to which he attached
an unstated but disciplinary importance of which I was aware.
When sometimes, if I was alone, I went to one of the pleasant
restaurants with outdoor gardens in the Kurfiirstendamm, and had a
meal costing 1 mark 50, or if, still more indulgent, I went to one
of the excellent Russian restaurants in Berlin with Roger Sessions, or
my brother Michael, I felt like Judas Iscariot.
After our lunch there was a relaxation of our regime, for we
then walked to a shop near the Bahnhof-am-Zoo where we bought
a packet of toffee. So regular were our appearances at this shop that
on seeing us enter the door a girl assistant would rush behind the
counter, fetch the packet of sweets, hand it to us and receive one
mark in payment, all without a word. Perhaps
it
was the influence
of Christopher which had this effect, because I do not believe it
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