The Serpent's Egg Page #3

while I write a few lines

to Inspector Lohmann,

who is working on another case

that also seems insane.

Sit down, Herr Rosenberg.

What do you suspect me of?

- Arent I entitled to a lawyer?

- This is a chat, not interrogation.

Youre taking it out on me.

I need a cigarette.

I know why youre doing this.

Its because Imm a Jew.

I am here because I speak English.

You are allowed to smoke.

You have ten minutes.

I spoke with Inspector Bauer.

He was very kind

and understanding.

He wants to help you.

He said you went crazy.

Whats wrong, Manuela?

Im just worried.

My savings are stolen.

I suppose you dont know

where theyrre gone.

I didnt know

you had any savings.

Theyre gone anyway.

Luckily Im in charge

of Maxss money.

Thats just it.

Inspector Bauer told me

they found Maxs money on you

when they searched you.

He asked me if I knew where

Max had gotten hold of this money.

I said it was our savings,

as we were in Switzerland

with the circus

and several of the artists

changed their money into dollars

before they went

on tour to Germany.

Who do you think

stole your money?

Whatd you say?

Yes?

Youre not listening.

Youre sick.

- Whats wrong?

- Shess sick.

Im all right.

I havent eaten today.

Id like to point out that you

have only a few minutes left.

- Manuela.

- Yes, Herr Rosenberg?

I am going to let you go,

Herr Rosenberg.

In spite of the way you

attacked me and my colleagues.

My God, the way you swung at us.

But then, you are a circus artist.

What are you looking at?

Im not looking, Imm wondering.

Im wondering whether I ought

to tell you what I am wondering about.

But I think not.

Frulein Dorst will show you where

you can collect your belongings.

Well keep your brotherss

dollar bills for the time being.

Well give you

a receipt, of course.

- What are you doing here?

- I dropped in to see Manuela.

I just heard

about your brothers death.

You can go to hell.

What?!

You got any cigarettes?

There are some cigarettes

on the shelf.

Who is it?

- Come in a moment, Manuela.

- Im awfully tired.

Could we talk tomorrow

when I come home for dinner?

I wish to speak to you now.

I cant sleep because of the pain.

Besides, I am worried.

Has it something to do with me?

You wouldnt have

asked that before, Manuela.

Im dead tired.

I think I have a cold.

I want to go to bed.

Its about Herr Rosenberg.

I wont have him

staying here in my house.

- But why?

- He seems unreliable and arrogant!

Besides, the authorities

dont approve

of my letting unmarried couples

share a room.

I have changed my mind!

Herr Rosenberg

must move tomorrow!

But hes paid his rent.

Theres the money.

I have changed it into marks.

Its illegal to have dollars.

You ought to know that.

If Herr Rosenberg is leaving,

Im leaving as well.

You must do as you like.

I think youre rotten!

I think you are a witch!

Well get by. Youlll see.

As long as we stick together.

Have you slept

with Hans Vergerus?

Yes, I have.

- Often?

- Dont be silly, Abel.

I want to know.

Three times, maybe four.

I dont know.

- Does he pay you?

- No.

Yes... once.

- Why did he pay you only once?

- I dont know.

- Why dont you know?

- I felt sorry for him.

Are you in love with him?

- I dont know.

- You dontt know?

I feel sorry for him... maybe me.

Maybe he needs some kindness.

Where did you go today?

I went to the office.

Then I came home

to have dinner with you.

Is it import and export

or something to do with the church

or neither? What?

I work at a whorehouse

in the morning.

Its not forbidden

as far as I know.

Its a very respectable whorehouse-

only for diplomats and managing

editors and famous actors.

Its so classy.

Be nice to me, Abel.

Please be nice to me, Abel.

Please be nice to me.

Tuesday, November 6th.

The newspapers are black

with fear, threats, and rumors.

The government seems powerless.

A bloody confrontation

between the extremist parties

appears unavoidable.

Despite all this,

people go to work,

the rain never stops,

and fear rises like vapor

from the cobblestones.

It can be sensed

like a pungent smell.

Everyone bears it

like a nerve poison,

a slowly working poison,

felt only as

a quicker or slower pulse,

or as a spasm of nausea.

Abel, Im too late.

I overslept.

Ill be home at 2:00 for dinner.

I dont know

why Imm bothering you.

My name is Manuela.

My father was a magician.

My mother was a circus rider.

Ive been living

in circuses all my life.

My husband was

a circus artist as well.

Maybe its wrong of me

to trouble you,

but I need to talk

to somebody who understands.

This last week Ive been going

to morning masses.

Im confused.

And then someone told me

that you were an American.

Its very comforting.

My German isntt very good.

My dear woman,

would you come to the point?

I have to get to another service.

I see.

Well, maybe youll come again.

All this guilt is too much for me.

I feel its my fault

that Max committed suicide.

Youre responsible for someone,

and then you fail your duties

and you stand there

empty-handed and ashamed,

wondering what you

could have been doing.

Now I feel I have to take care

of Maxs brother Abel as well,

- and thats even worse.

- Worse?

Well, hes just like Max.

He never says what hess thinking.

He just charges ahead

with all his feeling

and he looks so frightened.

And I try to tell him

that well help each other,

but thats only words for him.

And everything I say is useless.

The only real thing is fear.

And Im sick.

I dontt know whatss wrong.

Is there any forgiveness?

Would you like me

to pray for you?

- Do you think that would help?

- I dont know.

- Now?

- Yes, now.

- Is it a special prayer?

- Yes, yes. Let me think.

We... We live

so far away from God...

...that he probably doesnt hear us

when we pray for help.

So...

we must help each other,

give each other the forgiveness

that a remote God denies us.

I... say to you...

...that you are forgiven

for your husbands death.

Youre no longer to blame.

And I beg your forgiveness...

...for my apathy...

...and my indifference.

Do you forgive me?

Yes, I forgive you.

Thats all we can do.

I must hurry.

The parish priest

becomes annoyed if Im late.

Young woman,

I have to close up, please.

What the hell does this mean?

Its a place where

werre going to live.

Its nice, isntt it?

Yesterday when you

came to the cabaret,

Id just been telling Hans Vergerus

about all our trouble.

He suggested at once

that we could move into this flat

that St. Annas Clinic has the use of.

It just became vacant.

Please say its nice.

We dont have to pay

any rent for the time being.

He also said that you could work

in the clinics archives.

We could stay here and decide

what we wanted to do.

Ill be damned if Illl live here

or accept charity from that

goddamned Hans Vergerus.

Maybe its better if we

work things out alone.

I probably wont

see you for a while.

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