Amerika (21 page)

As Karl entered the office, the head waiter was sitting over his morning coffee; he took a sip and looked at a ledger presented for inspection by the chief hotel porter, who was also present. The latter was a large man whose sumptuous, richly decorated uniform—there were various gold chains and bands snaking all the way across his shoulders and arms—made him seem even more broad-shouldered than he was in reality. A glistening black mustache, pointed in the manner favored by Hungarians, did not stir when he turned his head around quickly. Moreover, owing to the weight of his clothes, the man could move only with difficulty and always positioned himself with his legs spread sideways so as to distribute his weight properly.

Karl had entered freely and in haste, as he was accustomed to do at the hotel, for the slowness and caution that is considered polite in private individuals is taken for laziness in lift boys. Besides, they mustn't notice his sense of guilt the moment he entered. Though the head waiter glanced up briefly when the door opened, he returned to his coffee and reading, without paying any further heed to Karl. But the porter, perhaps feeling disturbed by Karl's presence or perhaps having some kind of confidential news or request to report, gazed angrily at Karl the entire time, head stiffly inclined, and then, after having met Karl's gaze—evidently on purpose—turned his head toward the head waiter. Karl, however, thought it would not look at all good if, after having come to the office, he were to leave now without receiving explicit orders from the head waiter to do so. The latter continued studying the ledger; now and then he took a piece of cake, shook off some sugar, and ate it without interrupting his reading. When a page from the ledger fell to the floor, the porter did not even attempt to pick it up; he realized that he was incapable of doing so; besides, it was also unnecessary since Karl had already reached the spot and passed the page to the head waiter, who merely reached out his hand and took it, as though it had flown up from the floor somehow all by itself. But that small good deed was of little avail, for the porter did not cease casting angry glances at him.

Nevertheless Karl was more composed than before. Even the fact that the head waiter evidently attached so little importance to his affair could be taken as a good sign. This was after all only understandable. A lift boy is a nobody, so he cannot allow himself liberties, but then again precisely because he's a nobody, he cannot get up to exceptional mischief either. Besides, in his youth the head waiter himself had been a lift boy—which was still the great pride of this generation of lift boys—it was he who had first organized the lift boys, and there must certainly have been an occasion when he left his post without permission, even if no one could force him to recall that and though it was undeniably true that, precisely because he was a former lift boy, he saw it as his duty to keep that profession in order by occasionally exercising relentless severity. Karl now pinned his hopes on the advancing hour. According to the office clock, it was already shortly after a quarter past six, and Renell could come back at any moment; perhaps he was even there already, for he must surely have noticed that Robinson had not returned; besides, Karl now realized that Delamarche and Renell could not have been that far from the Occidental Hotel, for in his miserable condition Robinson could not have found his way there alone. If Renell encountered Robinson in his bed, as was bound to happen, everything would be fine. For given Renell's practical bent, especially when his own interests were concerned, he would somehow find a way to remove Robinson from the hotel, which could be brought about more easily now that Robinson had meanwhile gained a little strength, and besides, Delamarche was probably already waiting outside the hotel, ready to take delivery. Once Robinson had at last been removed, Karl could approach the head waiter much more calmly, and this time maybe he would get off with a reprimand, although it might be a fairly severe one. Then he would speak with Therese about whether to tell the head cook the truth—he himself could see no obstacle—and if it were possible, the matter could be disposed of without causing any real damage.

No sooner had Karl succeeded in calming himself down a little with the help of such reflections and discreetly begun to count the night's tips, for he sensed that they were especially abundant, than the head waiter uttered the words “Wait a little longer please, Feodor,” put the ledger on the table, sprang up, and shouted at Karl so loudly that all he could do was stare into the great black cavern of his mouth.

“You left your post without permission. Do you know what this means? It means that you're dismissed. I don't want to hear any excuses, you may keep your deceitful excuses to yourself; for me the fact that you were absent is entirely sufficient. If I tolerate and excuse this even once, it won't be long before all forty lift boys abandon their duties, and I'll end up having to carry my five thousand guests up the stairs all by myself.”

Karl remained silent. The porter approached and tugged Karl's jacket, which was rather creased, no doubt so as to draw the attention of the head waiter to this slight dishevelment in Karl's suit.

“Perhaps you became ill all of a sudden?” the head waiter asked craftily. Karl gave him a searching look and answered: “No.” “Then you weren't even ill?” the head waiter shouted, even louder than before. “Then you must have fabricated some big lie. Out with it. So what's your excuse?” “I didn't know one had to request permission by telephone,” said Karl. “Well, that's quite priceless,” said the head waiter, and seizing Karl by the collar of his coat, carried him, almost floating in the air, to the official regulations for the lifts, which were nailed to the wall. The porter followed them to the wall. “There. Read that,” said the head waiter, pointing to a paragraph. Karl thought that he was supposed to read it silently. “Out loud!” the head waiter commanded. Rather than read it aloud, Karl said in hopes of calming the head waiter: “I'm familiar with that paragraph; I did of course receive the official regulations and read them carefully. But that is precisely the kind of stipulation one forgets since one never has any need of it. I've been serving here for two months and never once left my post.” “You will now, though,” said the head waiter, and walking over to the table, he picked up the ledger again, as though he wished to go on reading, but slapped it down on the table instead, as if it were a useless rag, and began to walk up and down the room, forehead and cheeks aflame. “And all for such a rascal! Such excitement on the night shift!” he exclaimed several times. “Do you know who was about to go up when this fellow ran away from his lift?” he said, turning to the porter. He named a name, and the porter, who certainly knew all of the guests and could tell their worth, was so horrified that he glanced at Karl, as if only the sheer existence of the latter could confirm that the owner of such an illustrious name had had to wait in vain for some time at a lift whose operator had run away. “That's dreadful!” the porter said, shaking his head slowly in boundless unease at Karl, who gazed sadly at him, thinking that now he would have to pay for this fellow's obtuseness in addition to everything else. “Besides, I know you,” said the porter, extending his large fat index finger and pointing it stiffly at Karl. “You're the only boy who consistently refuses to greet me. What on earth do you think you're doing? Everyone who passes the porter's lodge must greet me. While you may do as you wish with the rest of the porters, I expect to be greeted. Sometimes I act as though I were not watching, but even if you are absolutely quiet, I know precisely who greets me and who does not, you lout.” He turned away from Karl and, rising to his full height, strode toward the head waiter, who, instead of commenting on the porter's affair, finished his breakfast and glanced at a morning newspaper, which a servant had just handed in to the room.

“Mr. Head Porter,” said Karl, who at least wished to sort out the issue with the porter while the head waiter was not paying attention, for he realized that although the porter's reproach would do him no harm, his hostility surely would. “I most certainly do greet you. You see, I've not been in America long and come from Europe, where, as everyone knows, people greet one another much more than is necessary. I haven't been able to give up that habit yet, and only two months ago in New York, where I happened to move in upper social circles, people tried to convince me continually to cease being so exaggeratedly polite. And yet you accuse me of not greeting you. I did greet you, several times every day. But of course not every time I saw you, since I pass you a hundred times a day.” “You must greet me every time, every time without exception, and whenever you speak to me, you must hold your cap in your hand and always call me Head Porter, not Sir. And all of this you must do every time, every time.” “Every time?” Karl repeated softly, remembering how many severe and reproachful glances the porter had directed at him while he was at the hotel, beginning with that very first morning, when, still not quite adjusted to his subservient position, he had questioned this very porter insistently and in great detail, and thus perhaps too boldly, as to whether two men had asked after him and possibly left a photograph for him. “Now you'll see where that sort of behavior lands you,” said the porter, who had returned and now stood rather close to Karl, and he pointed to the head waiter, who was still reading, as if he were the representative of his revenge. “You'll certainly know how to greet the porter at your next job however wretched a dive it may be.”

Karl realized that he had in fact already lost his position, for the head waiter had just made the announcement, the head porter had repeated it as an established fact, and in the case of a lift boy, they surely did not need confirmation of the dismissal from the hotel management. But everything had gone more quickly than he had expected, for he had, after all, served for two months as best he could and certainly better than some of the other boys. At the critical moment, though, such things obviously aren't taken into account, neither in Europe nor in America, and the decision that is reached simply follows the verdict someone utters in an initial outburst of fury. Perhaps it would have been best if he had said goodbye at once and gone away, for the head cook and Therese might have been asleep still, and so as to spare them at least the disappointment and grief over his conduct, at least during a personal leave-taking, he could have said goodbye by letter, packed his bags quickly, and slipped away quietly. But if he were to stay even one day longer—and he certainly could have used some sleep—all he could expect was the escalation of his affair into a scandal, reproaches from all sides, the unbearable sight of Therese's tears and possibly even those of the head cook, and ultimately perhaps punishment too. On the other hand, he was held back by the thought that he faced two enemies, and that one or the other would always criticize everything he said and put a negative construction on it. So he remained silent, taking pleasure for now in the silence that had descended in the room, for the head waiter was still reading the newspaper and the head porter was rearranging the pages of the ledger, which were scattered over the table, a task that, evidently due to shortsightedness, he accomplished only with great difficulty.

At last the head waiter put down the newspaper with a yawn, assured himself through a glance that Karl was still present, and switched on the bell on the table telephone. He shouted hello several times, but there was no answer. “There's no answer,” he said to the head porter. The latter, who was, Karl thought, following the telephone conversation with particular interest, said: “Well, it's a quarter to six. She must be awake by now. Try to make it ring louder.” At that moment, without further prompting, an answering call came through. “Hello, this is Head Waiter Isbary,” said the head waiter. “Good morning, Madame Head Cook. But I hope I haven't awakened you. I'm very sorry. Yes, yes, it's already a quarter to six. All the same, I'm truly sorry I gave you a fright. You should turn off the telephone when you go to sleep. No, no, I don't really have any excuse, especially given the trivial nature of the affair I wish to discuss with you. But of course I have time, please go on, and if you don't mind, I shall remain on the line. She must have run to the telephone in her nightdress,” the head waiter smilingly informed the head porter, who throughout this exchange had been bent over the telephone apparatus with a tense expression on his face. “I did wake her. She's usually awakened by the little girl who does her typewriting and who, quite exceptionally, must have neglected to do so today. I'm sorry I startled her; she's already nervous enough.” “Why has she stopped talking?” “She's gone to find out what happened to the girl,” replied the head waiter, who had already put the receiver to his ear, since the telephone was ringing again. “She'll turn up all right,” he continued, speaking into the telephone. “You shouldn't let everything scare you so. You really need a complete rest. Well, here's my little question. There's a lift boy, called”—he turned around and glanced inquiringly at Karl, who was paying close attention and could therefore help by giving his name—“well, called Karl Rossmann; if my memory serves me right, you took a certain interest in him; unfortunately, he did little to repay your kindness, left his post without permission, causing me great difficulties of still unknown dimensions, so I've just dismissed him. I hope you're not taking this to heart. What do you mean? Dismissed, yes, dismissed. But I told you that he left his post. No, dear Madame Head Cook, I really cannot yield to you in this instance. It's a question of my authority, there's a great deal at stake here; it takes only one such boy for the entire gang to go bad. One has to be devilishly alert, especially with those lift boys. No, no, in this case I cannot do you a favor, although I always very much endeavor to defer to your wishes. And if despite all this I did leave him here, it would serve no other purpose than to keep my blood boiling; and indeed it is for your sake, yes, for your sake, Head Cook, that he cannot stay. He certainly doesn't deserve the interest you take in him, and since I not only know him but you too, I realize that this would inevitably create the most grievous disappointments for you, and I wish to spare you those at all costs. I'm being very frank with you, even though the obstinate boy we're talking about is standing only a few steps away. He's dismissed, no, no, Head Cook, entirely dismissed. No, no, he's not being transferred to some other work, he's completely unusable. Besides, I keep on hearing additional complaints. For instance, the head porter, what was that again, Feodor; well, the head porter has been complaining about the boy's cheekiness and impoliteness. Beg your pardon, you're saying this won't suffice? Listen, Madame Head Cook, you're going against your own nature merely for the sake of this boy. And you mustn't pester me like this.”