The lent book [1]
Hermann Harry Schmitz [2]
Translated by xia23
It was a magnificent book with gilt-edged and damask binding, it lay on the table in the living room.
It was a very boring book with bad, very bad illustrations.
It was the pride of the whole family.
Only the father was allowed to take the book in the hands. On holidays the father dressed in his Sunday best, sat down in their living room, read aloud to the mother and children with his sonorous voice and wrong emphasis from the fine book. With dignity he pretentiously washed his hand earlier. Frequently he interrupted his reading and explained the illustrations. The children put intelligent expressions on their faces with their surprised and smart eyes; they secretly pinched each other on their legs.
Mr. Mehlenzell was an acquaintance of the father; he had a grocery store and let people buy groceries with debts.
People needed lots of things in their household, and the father’s salary was pretty low.
One day Mr. Mehlenzell asked the father, he wanted to borrow the magnificent book. The father turned pale; he could not nicely say “no”.
“For a couple of days. - Definitely, of course I will have it back next Sunday”, Mr. Mehlenzell had said.
Every one in the family now talked about the book. The mother thought one should not give the book to him. The father was very serious. “Definitely, of course I will have it back next Sunday’, Mr. Mehlenzell has said”, the father defended himself. “We want to see”, the mother grumbled.
Where the book had lain in the living room, was a rectangle spot on the table cloth; the plush there was not faded.
The Sunday came. People had already gotton up early. It became noon: Mr. Mehlenzell had not brought the book back. The father sat in the living room with the mother and was very serious. The lunch tasted bad for everyone. No one took care of the kids. People let the kids scamper about everywhere in the garden and eat the unripe gooseberries without being blamed. – The father drank half bottle of rum [3]. The mother had tear-reddened eyes. It was coming to the end of the world for the living room.
The father had to lie in bed on Monday and Tuesday. The mother neglected the household. The kids ran wild.
The father still owned 140 Marks to Mr. Mehlenzell. One dared not remind him for the book.
It was strange in the house, just like someone were dead now. People saw the father always was busy with the rum bottles. The family deteriorated. –
The third Sunday came, the book was still not there yet.
It could not be going like this anymore.
After the lunch, the father shouted for his black coat and cuffs, shaved and went to Mr. Mehlenzell’s house.
Mrs. Mehlenzell opened the door herself.
He asked for Mr. Mehlenzell.
Mrs. Mehlenzell was in bad mood and asked what the problem was. Her husband would not be disturbed after lunch; what was the matter.
It was urgent, he had to talk to Mr. Mehlenzell, the father persisted.
Mrs. Mehlenzell went in the room growling and let the father stand in the corridor.
Mrs. Mehlenzell had left, the door was not tightly closed. Mr. Mehlenzell cursed, one should leave him in peace. What did then the wretch want? Then the door was slammed shut from inside.
After a while Mrs. Mehlenzell came back; her husband had not much time, he wanted to be brief. –
Mr. Mehlenzell lay on sofa and smoked a cigar. He groaned at the father and remained lying quietly on sofa.
He wanted the father to pay something for the debt. The father started timidly.
Mr. Mehlenzell sat straight up himself and asked the father to take a seat; he also pushed a cigar box to the father.
“How much should I write on my receipt, please?
“Twenty Marks”.
Mr. Mehlenzell picked up the cigar box.
In the next room someone was practicing the piano intensively.
“… and then, what I wanted to say is”, the father squeezed out, “I would like to ask about the book, if you like the book and you have finished with it?”
“Which book?”
“You know – the book of mine, what [4] beautiful book, that you had borrowed from me for three weeks.”
“Oh so, yes. I remember. – Yes, where do I put it?”
Pearls of sweet stood on the father’s forehead.
“Wait a moment, I have to ask my wife. Are you in urgent need for the book?”
Mr. Mehlenzell left the room muttering.
In the next room, someone had played “Girl, Why Are You Crying” [5] for the seventh time.
The father went in through the half-opened door and looked in. Lenchen Mehlenzell was sitting at the piano.
Some one had put ubooks on the bench; so Lenchen could sit higher enough.
The father was almost faint; Lenchen sat on the magnificent book!
The father was normally not cruel. He pounced out the unsuspecting child from ambush and threw her from the seat, seized the book and fled.
At home. – The book was inspected, the book had suffered. People had cut the cover somewhat, it was greasy, apparently from sausage. It must have fallen down frequently, the corners were bent, and the pages sat loosely in the spine.
With a trembling hand the father turned pages in the book.
Page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 40 – the father suspected…41, 42, 43, 44, 13, 14, 15, 58, 59, 60, 61, 16 – the father’s face turned green … 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24 ,25, 105, 106, 107, 108 – the father’s glass eye fell from his head … 109, 110 – now the pages were smaller, very strange … 111, 112. page 110 ended with “Youthful wanderers, kept on wandering into the far world”, and it continued on page 111 “with the white aristocratic hand through the wavy hair and walked excitedly towards Leonie”. In the father’s book, a “Leonie” didn’t appear there. The father’s head swelled up as though it were going to burst.
The father killed the mother.
A picture postcard from Saarbrücken [6] to Mrs. Mehlenzell fell from the book and there was also a note written with memorable words: “2 pairs of socks, 3 collars, 1 handkerchief, 1 small shirt front, 1 pair of cuffs”
The father jumped from the window and broke his neck.
The children went to ruin.
Horrifying, most horrifying.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1]. Das verliehene Buch. p.77. Der Weg zum Lessen. 3rd Ed. Harcourt Brace College Publishers, Fort Worth，Philadelphia....Tokyo, 1986.
[2]. Hermann Harry Schmitz
https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermann_Harry_Schmitz
[3]. Rum, a strong alcoholic drink made from the juice of sugar-cane.
[4]. The father uses “was” (what) instead of“das” (the). The father did not know grammar well. Note from the book “Der Weg zum Lesen”.
[5]. Girl, Why Are You Crying:
In youtube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fh1fpf2JNlg?
Lyrics:
https://www.lieder-archiv.de/maedchen_warum_weinest_du-notenblatt_300325.html
[6]. Saarbrücken, Germany:
