The Silent Prophet by Joseph Roth

Author:Joseph Roth [Roth, Joseph]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-02-23T16:00:00+00:00

13

'So that's the newspaper correspondent Süsskind,' thought Friedrich. He knew the name and the newspaper in which this man's initials figured so often and so prominently. No connection could be found between the style that singled out this correspondent from his colleagues and the servility with which he denied his Jewishness. 'This Süsskind,' said the colonel, as if he meant to pursue Friedrich's thoughts aloud, 'would do better to stay out of sight.'

The train was delayed; it did not arrive at M. until the early morning.

M. was a small town in which it was raining. Most of the houses were built of dark red brick. In the middle of the town was a green square, and in the middle of the square rose a steep red-brick building. It was a Protestant church.

Opposite the entrance to the church stood a school for boys and girls, made of red brick. To the right of the school stood a revenue office of red brick. And to the left of the school was the town hall with a pointed spire. It too was made of red brick.

In the wide shop-windows were leather goods made of paper, wristwatches for soldiers, cheap novels, and mittens for Christmas in the field.

From inside the boys' and girls' school came the sound of clear children's voices singing: In der Heimat, in der Heimat. From time to time a dark-green tramcar glided by rapidly, swaying and emanating a brisk clanging. And it rained, heavily, slowly, monotonously from a deep dark-grey leaden sky that had not been blue for a single hour since the creation of the world.

It rained. Friedrich found a seat in a large empty café on whose wide windows were posted patriotic and puristic notices such as: 'Don't say adieu but auf Wiedersehn!' and 'Don't use foreign languages!', alongside picture postcards with verses by Theodor Körner in heavy type. A waitress brought him a pallid coffee with a pinkish tinge at the edges. He sat by the window and watched the rain trickling down. It struck twelve from the town hall, and the girl workers and a few isolated workmen emerged from the munitions factory. They were a silent crowd. Only their steps could be heard on the damp cobbles. Even the young girls did not speak. They walked at the head of the irregular file because they had nimbler legs than the others. He had plenty of time. Tomkin was not available before five in the afternoon.

Friedrich got into a tram. It was empty. A conductress sold him his ticket. She had left her ears exposed and done up her hair so tightly at the nape of her neck that she could have been taken for a man. A tin trumpet hung at her bosom like a brooch. The poor woman wore pince-nez. She walked with long strides through the swaying car like old sea-dogs on deck in a tempest. As no one was sitting in the car, Friedrich asked her if she would not sit down. She directed her pince-nez at him and said: 'Conductors aren't allowed to.

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