ALFRED LICHTENSTEIN
481
out. Or he considered where he might run away. He thought of the trial,
of the defense, of prison, chains, letters written to the outside world, the
hangman. That he would, as his last wish, be allowed to sleep with Ilka
Leipke one more time. He moved through the streets like someone trying
to catch up to someone. When it occurred to him that he should not call
attention to himself, he suddenly began to walk too slowly.
It
seemed to
him that all the people were watching him.
In
a garden two girls, perhaps
fifteen years old, were wrestling. When they saw Mechenmal, they quick–
ly sat down on a bench, letting him come nearer. When he was close
enough, they laughed at him; one of them wiggled her legs. He hurried
away. Behind him one of them cried out, "See how quickly the man
moves." And the other cried out just as foolishly, "Yes, he's smoking."
They watched him go, then they went back to wrestling with each other.
Mechenmal gradually calmed down. He thought: they can't prove it was
me.
I'll
deny everything. Ha! Who can prove anything about me....Even if
they notice anything! He threw the cigar away. He felt safer. He whistled
with the thought that Kohn could no longer bother him. That he, Max
Mechenmal, had overcome the difficulty with Kohn so completely. He
thought that he tackled life correctly. That everything went well for him.
He had great trust in himself. He thought: no sentimentality now. To lead
a decent life, one must be a bastard.
He went home happily.
Translated from the German
by
Sheldon Gilman and Robert Levine
