Stefan Zweig: Farewell to Europe Page #6

Doesn't matter.

I didn't congratulate you either.

No, I... I wouldn't expect that.

I'm happy for you.

And for Stefan.

Really.

Everything all right?

- Everything's all right, thank you.

That's the man who helped us.

Won't you take a seat?

Ben could write an invitation to Julien.

Then they'd get on the list.

- Tell him then.

Glass of water?

Go get a damp towel.

Thanks, but it won't help.

This radiator air is poison for asthma.

New York is poison, like London.

And also coming from the tropics

to minus 20 degrees.

I have...

a mission here...

what I must give...

bread... and salt.

"For well-being,

for settle...

settle...

...ness?

Settledness.

- Settledness!

For commune... communality."

Anybody mind if I put it on?

- Of course not.

That's why people like to come to you.

Interesting.

Sorry?

You have to help me

dig up my lost memories

for my self-portrayal.

You're writing an autobiography?

I just had it repaired.

I think it will be a decent book.

The German and French versions

could be printed in Brazil.

And the English version?

ls Cassel doing it?

The bookbinder's was bombed.

What? And your house in Bath?

The Balzac's still there,

2,000 pages of notes.

But Stefan...

- You don't get the problem.

How can I get 40 books

and all my notes past the censors?

Try!

- There's always a way.

Hanna could send it, Eva's mother.

- Exactly.

Petropolis, Brazil

November 1941

Mr. Zweig?

Dr. Zweig!

Dr. Zweig!

I thought it was you.

Excuse me...

Please help me.

Is everything all right?

Wait, I'll come down to you.

Mr. Feder!

What are you doing here?

I wanted to catch the bus to Rio.

Erna and I are moving here in three days.

Really?

- Yes.

Forgot my glasses, fool that I am.

I have to go back.

We'll be neighbors. Wonderful!

How nice to see you. How are you?

Nice to see you too.

So you live here in this neighborhood?

Not exactly. A bit further on.

I was just...

Remember what Simon said

when you moved to Paris?

"The entire Kurffirstendamm

is pouring over Paris."

Now they're all

pouring over Petropolis.

You're a start at least.

Are you going up too?

Why not?

I don't know

when the next bus leaves for Rio.

I have to meet de Souza at three.

The next no. 4 bus leaves at 10:30.

So you have time.

Where was your apartment in Berlin

by the way?

Leipziger StraBe 3,

between Wilhelmstrafle and Potsdamer Platz.

Yes, of course.

I vaguely remember.

- And now...

we are moving here,

at the end of that lane.

It wasn't easy

to find something affordable.

The rent for emigrants is going up,

even in Petropolis.

Why didn't you say? We could have helped.

- I beg you.

Sorry, but I have to...

- I'll accompany you.

Really?

- Sure.

We're moving into a two-room

with the Levys' from Osnabriick.

She's originally from Karlsruhe.

Makes fabulous coffee,

but she talks incessantly.

Always squabbling with her husband.

After five minutes, I knew all her worries:

her daughter,

a grown-up art historian no less,

has married a musician twice her age,

and her mother doesn't like it one bit.

Oh dear, there she is.

Mr. Feder! You're still here?

May I introduce you?

Dr. Zweig, Mr. and Mrs. Levy.

Oh God. Yes, of course.

It is truly an honor.

- The pleasure is all mine.

It's Stefan Zweig!

I heard you make

the best coffee in Petropolis.

I have to go back...

- To our place? With pleasure.

I'll make you some coffee.

We wanted to go shopping,

but my husband only brought one bag.

Heaven knows how we'd fit

a week's groceries into one bag.

I'm afraid I'm expected at home...

It's no problem at all.

- He has no time.

I'm sure there will be another time.

- Yes...

Goodbye.

Hello.

- Hello.

Yes, well...

on December 1st we'll be moving...

Oh, isn't today...

Today is...

I don't believe it.

Stands here and doesn't say a word.

Happy birthday.

- Thanks. That's very kind of you.

I know, because

it's Erna's birthday in two days.

I'm dragging you around. You must...

- No, no. I've banned all celebrations.

One can't be celebrated

in times like these. Come on.

Tolstoy said:

"Every 60-year-old man should hide

in the thicket like aging animals."

Tolstoy, of all people?

He lived to be ancient. Over 80.

Perhaps he liked the thicket.

And your wife is at home?

Yes, Lotte's at home.

Voil.

It isn't Leipziger StraBe, but...

You'll see. It's a good life here.

To tell the truth, I hope so.

But...

If you say so, I want to believe it.

On every walk here

you see the loveliest things.

You can live a cheap and modest life.

Please, get yourself something to drink.

- Thank you.

And, above all, you live in peace.

Ah, there it is.

Have you read the paper yet?

You mean the British aircraft carrier?

Take them for the bus.

You get the New York Times here?

- Twice a week.

Not bad. Thanks a lot.

This is the Levys' dining room.

We can use it as our study, too.

Work is most important.

I've rarely been so pleasantly detached

as these last three months.

Nothing but working, walking, reading.

Now take a look at this view.

Isn't it incredible?

What does it remind you of?

Of Tolstoy's thicket?

- Semmering.

A tropical Semmering.

Now you mention it...

At the other end of the world.

Look at that nature.

I am always so overwhelmed by its beauty.

Behind our hill is de Souza's summer house.

I'll show you later.

There's even a little library.

A little meager, but...

It isn't as hot as in Rio.

You can survive the summers quite well.

There's a parrot.

Look.

Val Paraiso...

Yes.

We have no reason to complain.

No.

Not us.

How can one bear this?

And I can't join in when someone says,

"Berlin took a jolly good beating."

I can't stand the way people talk about it.

Or write about it.

Those big-mouth optimists...

The war at sea is lost.

We're at the start of the war,

middle at best, but nobody says it aloud.

And the worst part of it is:

There's no opposition to the war as such,

not in one single country.

You have to catch your bus.

Please, excuse me.

I have my black liver again.

I didn't have a chance in Rio

to congratulate you on your Brazil book.

Did you like it?

- I thought it was fabulous.

Everyone I talked to thinks the same.

I'm pleased.

You should also be congratulated

on your success.

Yes? Oh well...

"Oh well?" I read the sales figures.

Then you've also read the reviews here.

I didn't get that at all.

What's Costa Rego's problem?

Look, that's de Souza's house up there.

And next door to him is Gabriela Mistral,

the famous Chilean poet and diplomat.

A very intelligent woman.

I'll introduce you to her.

- Gladly.

But really,

you declared your love for this country.

It's published the world over, and Brazil,

of all places, attacks it like that.

You know what?

Perhaps I was too uncritical

about certain things.

But how can they accuse you

of being commissioned by the government?

De Souza was also outraged.

I don't care about the Nationalists,

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