RHEINSBERG by Kurt Tucholsky

Author:Kurt Tucholsky [Tucholsky, Kurt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

They walked through the streets of the city; Shop windows offered their enticing wares, artfully arranged. Oh, this was the absolute pinnacle, as one might say with pride; this was a place where the achievements of the new era were at hand: a modern wind was blowing here. Mr. Krummhaar, the owner of the delicatessen on the corner of the market square, for example, had arranged his window in accordance with artistic principles. Upon looking through his brightly polished window, the observer was treated to a paradisaical landscape: atop a bread-crumb hill stood a sugar loaf with a red gelatin cross, and upon closer examination one discovered that it was a windmill; plum paths wound their way around beds of currants with price tags; and a brig floated on a mirror, carrying bulbous bottles of Danziger Goldwasser and pretzels from faraway India . . . By the shop door, there were stacked containers filled with expensive peas and all manner of dried fruits, though they appeared to have gathered much dust; only those who were well informed might have recognized it as a subtle trick. For a long while, Claire stood gazing at the colorful splendor, then shivered, saying, “And an ox, fully loaded with meat extract. . .”

She stopped everywhere, wanted to buy everything, and she twirled around, chattering, laughing, and was a woman trying to get her man to shop, a disobedient whiny child dragged through the street by its nursemaid, a small dog— one after the other—and for ten paces, she even mimicked a not entirely irreproachable creature . . .

In front of the door of a small shop whose window promised linens and trims, the Mistresses Luft stood, two sweet-tempered elderly characters who smelled a little musty . . .

They were enjoying the evening air during a break between customers. They coaxed the pair into their shop.

“I would like some lingerie buttons, please.” Claire was all business, right on task.

“Tsk . . .”

“Please, give me some white buttons, please . . . to sew onto things . . .”

“Tsk . . . of course.”

Neither Miss Luft made any move, but merely stared at each other and the visitors, who practically filled their shop, perplexed and confused. One of them took a deep breath . . .

“Vould the joung sire step out for a moment? . . .”

What a decent soul, he thought. And left.

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