H. Adler - The Wall

“There we are, etched in eternal memory, Mitzi. Just think, isn’t that marvelous?”

“You’re right. It’s astonishing to think that I am now part of history. And look at all the other signatures! What do you think, Herr Doctor? How many people will write down their names here for all time in the next hundred years?”

“The Herr Doctor cannot know the answer to that. How can you ask such a dumb question?”

“The good madam was only wondering.”

I said that quietly, and was rewarded with a flattering glance. Then I saw the guests out to the street and carefully closed up the hermitage. We slowly walked back to our administration building in the former school. Herr Lever looked to be totally inspired, and was very thankful, offering me a huge tip and not pleased when I declined it because of what he took to be regulations. I suggested that he could make a donation to the museum, if he wished to.

“To the museum! Why not! But you, Herr Doctor, you could surely use something and are certainly owed a great deal. It would be my pleasure. South Africa is a land of gold, and I have always earned plenty.”

“Yes, so my husband has. He’s very capable. And generous as well.”

Nonetheless, there was no changing my mind and I only let him give me a pack of American cigarettes.

“You have to take these, Herr Doctor! Otherwise I’ll be upset. You’ve done up everything so splendidly. There was nothing needed for the cemetery. That’s old and famous. But the museum — it’s really splendid. A site well worth seeing, and without compare. I will talk about it throughout the world, and especially at home. I’ll send people to you. Hopefully, it will soon officially be open, a catalog will be printed — a book with pictures of the most important treasures. How lively it all is. How exciting! Aren’t you excited, Mitzi?”

“And how!”

“Tell me, Herr Doctor, a question: are you insured?”

“You mean the museum?”

“Yes, the museum.”

“Of course.”

“Against anything? Theft, fire, water, structural damages, everything? And for how much, if I may ask?”

“That I don’t know.”

“Such a museum has to be well insured. You must believe me. The things it has are irreplaceable. If something happened, you have to at least be well insured.”

“And you think it helps to be so?”

“Yes, just think about the material losses!”

At that I said nothing more and let the couple talk between themselves until we reached the door of the school. I waited to say goodbye to the Levers, which after they completed the tour happened at this point. Whether because of shyness, sentimentality, or politeness, the custom had always been that our visitors only rarely left from the retreat but instead always accompanied us back to the school, even when they had no further questions and only walked along quietly beside us. Only here, once you informed them that the visit was over, would they slowly say goodbye, which normally took a little while as they talked about this or that, without aim or purpose, while it lay on us to bring these pointless exchanges to an end. It almost never happened that they wanted to come into the school, because inquiries about our mounting stacks of goods or those that could be answered by our administrative offices were usually already taken care of during the tour. But the Levers had something else in mind, or perhaps not, for they didn’t seem to expect anything more, but just wanted to keep talking with me and wouldn’t let me get back to my work.

“I have to go now. I have a lot to do.”

“Look, Herr Doctor, we’re countrymen of yours. Tell us, what did your father do?”

“He sold men’s clothing.”

“Men’s clothing? And your name is Landau?”

“Yes.”

“Landau’s Haberdashery? Mitzi, do you remember?”

“Yes, that’s where you bought that tie, and some shirts? You also have a pair of pants from there. Very good ones.”

“Yes. And on them it says HAL, a good brand. I never knew what that meant. Can you tell me?”

“The first letters of ‘Haberdashery Albert Landau.’ ”

Herr Lever slapped his forehead.

“What an idiot I am! So simple, and yet I could never figure it out.”

“Now you know,” said Mitzi. “And tell me, Herr Doctor, wasn’t it next to the fruit seller? What was his name?”

“Kutschera.”

“That’s right. Kutschera. Is he still there?”

“Yes, he still sells fruit.”

“I must have a look. I’ve been away so long, the war and everything, and yet the good Kutschera is still there with his apples and oranges!”

“And the clothing store?” Herr Lever wanted to know. “Can I still buy something there? You must indeed have gotten the store back.”

“No, you can’t buy anything there.”

“That’s too bad. Is it closed?”

“Yes. For good.”

“And your father, if I may ask?”

I didn’t answer right away.

“Oh, I see!” said Herr Lever apologetically. “I’m so sorry. But it really was a first-rate store. You must at least have gotten permanent compensation.”

I smiled.

“Didn’t you get anything? I can’t believe it. But you will, won’t you?”

“No, I won’t, Herr Lever, nothing at all. I don’t want to, and I won’t, and it won’t happen.”

“You don’t want to? It’s within your rights, and those you have to defend. Those rascals shouldn’t get it. You need to pursue it!”

“I won’t. It won’t come to anything. Senseless, it’s all senseless.”

“An actual doctor, Mitzi! Just listen to yourself — you don’t have the wiles of a salesman! But you owe it to your father and to yourself.”

“I don’t believe that. And, what’s more, I won’t get anything. The store was liquidated long ago. People chase after their lost property like fools, but, given the way the winds blow here, hardly anyone has gotten anything back.”

“What are you saying? Do you hear this, Mitzi? Many say the same thing here. But the reason I came here was to sort out my affairs.”

“I wish you good luck with that.”

“Really! Do you think there’s no chance of success? That would be awful!”

“Success or no success, forgive me, neither matters to me, Herr Lever. I already told you, I wish you all good luck. I just want to get away from here.”

“Mitzi, he wants to leave! Just when everything is turning good again!”

I smiled.

“You’re a doomsayer, Herr Doctor. You have to live again. You must. Where can you go? I’m looking for my things. Also for my brother, who, unfortunately, stayed here.”

“I see, your brother,” I said thoughtlessly, and again, “Good luck, Herr Lever!”

Then I wanted to hurry off, but the couple wouldn’t let me go.

“It’s so interesting to talk to you. It gives me a chill, but it’s really interesting. Maybe you knew someone from my family.”

“That could well be.”

“It’s likely, for your father certainly knew our family. I used to be called Lebenhart.”

“Eugene Lebenhart. Ufergasse.” I said it without thinking.

Herr Lever grabbed hold of my wrist hard.

“That was my brother! Mitzi, just think. Eugene — the Herr Doctor knew Eugene!”

“Just imagine. How strange, Guido. One should always speak up, that’s what I say. I always think so.”

“I’m sorry, good people, I did not know Eugene Lebenhart.”

“Then how do you know his address?” they both said simultaneously.

I had put my foot in my mouth and saw both of the portraits before me that Herr Schnabelberger had shown me in the first days of my employment at the museum. Against the wishes of Frau Dr. Kulka, I would have to quickly explain that I had handled them. She didn’t want anyone to be made aware of objects that rightfully belonged to them, and I had no right whatsoever to make an exception for Herr and Frau Lever. But I had already given myself away, and what did I care what Frau Dr. Kulka thought?