She rolled around, spun on herself like an axle — now astride Hans, sitting on his urgency, sinking into position, she had the impression of being the one penetrating him with her own member. Hans’s sex was no longer his, or hers, it was an intermediary. She pressed her hands against his chest, she felt she was bathing in a river, thrashing, diving, swimming. Beneath, drowned, saved, Hans watched her writhe, testing the resilience of the wooden bed frame. He thought they might hear the creaking downstairs. He thought Herr Zeit might realise what they were doing. He thought Frau Zeit might be on the stairs. He thought Lisa might be loitering in the passageway. He thought they shouldn’t be doing this and he didn’t care. He stopped thinking in a flash, and Sophie dragged him with her. Hans groped in the air, lost control, and found her breasts. They both rolled downhill together.
She washed, humming to herself beside the washbasin. She washed between her legs, freshened her underarms, dabbed her neck and cheeks with perfume. She asked Hans to help tighten her corset. He took the opportunity to remove a few pubic hairs that had stuck to her back. She straightened her skirts, carefully smoothed out her crinolines. Then she went over to the tiny mirror to straighten her hair and refresh her make-up. After this agile performance, Sophie wheeled round and Hans gazed at her in admiration — in ten brief minutes, she was once more Fräulein Gottlieb.
Sophie sat down at the desk, folded her legs and said dreamily: Shall we go over what we did on Monday or move on to something else?
With the broiling heat of July, with burning skins and exhausted fans, the summer began in Wandernburg. The more well-to-do families chose a spa or headed for their country houses on the banks of the Nulte. The young people preferred to travel to the Rhine to enjoy the nightlife of Bonn or Cologne. The summer holidays had begun, although few people went away — the majority of Wandernburgers stayed behind, spending the days in the shade of their gardens. A few families were content to go on day trips, cramped and uncomfortable in carriages, but happy because the sun was in the zenith. Craftsmen laid down their tools, shut up shop and slept with the windows closed. Children gambolled in parks or squares, suddenly faced with what seemed like eternal freedom.
Farther south, in the fields, shepherds watched idly over their flocks. Sheep shorn of their fleeces meandered around with a melancholy air, feeling cheated or possibly ridiculous. Those on heat bleated shrilly and allowed the vigorous rams to mount them, discharging from their vulvas a liquid as viscous as the summer air, while the castrated rams, plumper and more lethargic, looked on with disdain. To the west of the fields, like a moored ship, the textile mill billowed smoke. Inside, Lamberg, bathed in sweat, stood on his platform, closed his smarting eyes and thought of his week’s holiday in August as one might go over the words of a prayer. Outside, in the surrounding cornfields, the peasants were slowly preparing for the next sowing, heralding the stealthy arrival of autumn, which to everyone else seemed like a vain threat.
And the organ grinder? The organ grinder fanned himself with old newspapers, bathed in the river, and blew on Franz’s ears.
Herr Gottlieb had of late been spending a great deal more time than usual in his study. He had given orders not to be disturbed and had been going over his accounts again and again. Sophie had risen that morning to find her father wearing the same shirt as the day before and not looking rested. They ate breakfast in silence to the sound of sipping, the scrape of cutlery and the crunch of toast, until Herr Gottlieb pushed his cup aside, cleared his throat and said: I’ve been thinking, my child, I’ve been thinking about this summer, and I’ve decided, well, why do the same thing every year, I mean, we’re perfectly happy here in the city, aren’t we, my child, and besides this summer isn’t as hot, you seem content to be here, and, well, it’s of little consequence, but the prices of spas this season are sky-high. Not that we can’t afford it, but this kind of sharp practice makes me cross, what right have they to double their prices from one year to the next? It’s not good enough, no indeed. What about the summer cottage, Father? asked Sophie. Herr Gottlieb pretended to look puzzled, as though she had alluded to some long forgotten detail. Then he replied: Oh, didn’t I tell you? I thought I had. Anyway, the fact is I sold it a few months ago. Why are you looking at me like that? There’s nothing strange about it, the opportunity to sell arose, and I thought, well, as you are soon to be married and we needed a considerable dowry, that is, a sum befitting such an occasion, didn’t we? And besides, I wanted to …
(Herr Gottlieb continued giving her explanations, but Sophie had stopped listening. All she could think of was that now she would be able to spend a whole summer with Hans. A whole summer! She hadn’t wanted to tell Hans, but for weeks she had been fearing the moment when her father announced the date of their departure, as he did every August. She could scarcely contain her glee at such good fortune. This really was news. She had to tell him at once, she had to write and tell him.)
… And so, my child, Herr Gottlieb said at last, I’m sure we shall enjoy a very pleasant summer and that this decision is for the best, vis-à-vis your wedding and your future. Although, I repeat, if you’d been looking forward to going away, I could still see if. No, I won’t hear of it! Sophie interrupted. No, Father, no. Naturally, I can’t deny I’m a little disappointed we aren’t going away as usual. But the most important thing is you’ve reached a considered decision, and I trust your reasons implicitly and, as ever, place myself blindly in your hands. Are you sure, my child? said Herr Gottlieb. Yes, Father, completely, she nodded, putting on a stoical air. My dear Sophie, her father rejoiced, I knew you’d understand! Come over here and give me a kiss, my darling, my darling.
My darling, my darling, you won’t believe this, I’m so happy …
Sophie stopped writing, went to check that her door was closed properly and lay down again on her orange eiderdown.
… in fact, I already noticed when we went away on holiday last summer, that for the first time ever we spent the whole journey facing away from the horses. My father told me it was because all the forward-facing seats were taken, but it struck me as odd, and while we were travelling I saw several coaches with empty seats. My father only tells half the story and everyone at home seems nervous. What does it matter, I’m happy. I’m staying here, my love, to translate for us. And with any luck, a little extra luck, Rudi will soon be off on holiday and everything will be easier, amore d’estate, estate d’amore …
Elsa knocked on the study door — she did it so timidly that she had to repeat the gesture three times before Herr Gottlieb looked up from the portrait of the pale young woman, cleared his throat and replied. This was only the second time since Elsa had been in his employ that Herr Gottlieb had called her to his study. The first occasion had been prompted by Gladys, the chambermaid, threatening to resign unless she was granted a weekend off every month.
Come in, my dear, come in, Herr Gottlieb said, topping up his brandy glass, how are you, my girl? Everything ship-shape? Busy today? Good, good, I’m glad to hear it. Now, you know how much I value your efficiency and your sense of responsibility, without you this house would be a shambles! In short, I’ve always known I could depend on your cooperation, isn’t that so, my dear? Good, very good. You’ll be wondering why I haven’t rung for Bertold, but, you see, I can’t ask him about this delicate matter because it concerns Sophie, and naturally I wouldn’t want this conversation to leave this room, especially with the wedding drawing near, and not a word of it to Sophie, either, you know how difficult she gets when something displeases her, do I make myself clear? Good. You see, it’s about these strolls and excursions you take with Sophie and, and well, these sessions, these work sessions with Herr Hans. As you always go with them, I was wondering whether the two of them, that is, if you have ever, in passing, noticed anything — don’t look so worried, my dear, rest assured this isn’t an interrogation, as I see it we are simply having an informal chat, aren’t we? The head of the house sometimes needs to reassure himself that everything is going according to plan, that is all. Yes, of course, my dear, I don’t doubt that if you had noticed anything … Only, you see, sometimes people talk, and such gossip might reach … Naturally, our family is above reproach, you needn’t remind me of that, what I’m asking you, Elsa, and please consider this a friendly suggestion if you will, is to increase your vigilance and to take care that … Yes, precisely. Well then, that’s settled.