Amerika (Michael Hofmann 1996 Translation) by Franz Kafka

Author:Franz Kafka [Kafka, Franz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature
ISBN: 9780141911311
Publisher: Penguin, Random House
Published: 1927-02-01T08:00:00+00:00

6

THE ROBINSON EPISODE

Just then, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Karl, thinking of course it was a guest at the hotel, quickly stuffed the apple into his pocket and hurried off back to his lift, not bothering to give the man behind him a glance. ‘Good evening, Mr Rossmann,’ said the man, ‘it’s me, Robinson.’ ‘You have changed,’ said Karl, shaking his head. ‘Yes, I’m doing fine,’ said Robinson, and looked down at his clothes, which although individually they might have been choice items, made a positively shabby impression together. The most striking part of the ensemble was a white waistcoat he was obviously wearing for the first time, which had four small black-rimmed pockets, to which Robinson tried to draw attention by puffing out his chest. ‘You are expensively dressed,’ said Karl, and thought briefly of his beautiful dark suit in which he could have stood comparison with Renell, and which his two bad companions had sold. ‘Yes,’ said Robinson, ‘almost every day I buy myself something new. How do you like the waistcoat?’ ‘It’s very nice,’ said Karl. ‘The pockets aren’t real, mind, they just look like pockets,’ said Robinson, and took Karl’s hand so that he might convince himself of this. Karl, though, shrank back, because an intolerable brandy smell wafted out of Robinson’s mouth. ‘You’re drinking again,’ said Karl, standing by the railing now. ‘No,’ said Robinson, ‘not much,’ and contradicted his previous self-satisfaction by saying: ‘What else can a man do in this world.’ A ride on the lift interrupted their conversation, and no sooner had Karl come down again than he was summoned by telephone to fetch the hotel doctor, as a lady had fainted on the seventh floor. On his way, he secretly hoped that Robinson might have left before he got back, because he didn’t want to be seen with him, and, mindful of Therese’s warning, he wanted to hear nothing from Delamarche either. But Robinson was still there, standing in the stiff attitude of one completely drunk, just as a senior hotel employee in black tails and top hat passed by, fortunately without apparently taking any notice of Robinson. ‘Wouldn’t you like to visit us some day, Rossmann, we’re doing very well now,’ said Robinson, and looked invitingly at Karl. ‘Are you asking, or is it Delamarche?’ Karl asked. ‘Delamarche and I. We are of one mind in this,’ said Robinson. ‘Then let me tell you, and please pass it on to Delamarche: our parting, while it may not have seemed so at the time, was final. I have suffered more at the hands of the two of you than from anyone else. Will you not finally leave me in peace?’ ‘But we are your companions,’ said Robinson, and repulsive drunken tears welled up in his eyes. ‘Delamarche says to say that he wants to make up for everything that’s happened in the past. We’re living with Brunelda now, she’s a wonderful singer.’ And he was on the point of delivering a tune in a high falsetto when Karl hissed at him: ‘Shut up, don’t you realize where you are.

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