Free The Clown by Heinrich Böll

his dirty forehead; he was crying and had smeared the tears on his face onto his forehead, I only wanted to comfort him. There was a terrible scene with two women who nearly sent for the police, and after all their abuse I really felt like a fiend, because one of the women kept saying to me: “You filthy swine, you filthy swine.”
    It was horrible, I found the scene as perverse as I do a real sex maniac.
    As I drove along the Koblenzstrasse, much too fast, I kept my eye open for a ministerial car to scrape, Mother’s car had projecting hubs with which I could have scratched up another car, but at that early hour no cabinet minister was about. I said to Leo: “How about it? Are you really going into the army?” He colored and nodded. “We discussed it,” he said, “in the study group and came to the conclusion that it’s in the interests of democracy.” “Go ahead then,” I said, “by all means go and take a hand in this nonsense, I’m sorry I’m not liable to be called up.” Leo looked at me questioningly, but turned away his head when I tried to look at him. “Why?” he asked. “Oh,” I said, “I would like to see the major again who was billeted with us and wanted to have Mrs. Wieneken shot. I’m sure he’s a colonel by now, or a general.” I stopped at the Beethoven School to drop him off, he shook his head and said: “No, park over there to the right behind the hostel,” I drove on, stopped, shook hands with Leo, but he smiled miserably and went on holding out his hand to me. My thoughts were already far away, I didn’t understand, and it irritated me the way Leo kept looking anxiously at his watch. It was only five to, and he had plenty of time. “You don’t really want to go into the army, do you?” I said. “Why not,” he said angrily, “give me the car key.” I gave him the car key, nodded to him, and walked off. I was thinking all the time of Henrietta and thought it was madness that Leo wanted to be a soldier. I crossed the park, past theuniversity and on toward the market square. I felt cold, and I wanted to see Marie.
    The shop was full of kids when I arrived. The children took candies, pencils, erasers from the shelves and put down the money for Derkum on the counter. When I pushed my way through the shop to the back room he did not look up. I went over to the stove, warmed my hands on the coffee pot and thought, Marie will be coming any minute now. I was out of cigarettes, and I wondered whether I should just take some or pay for them when I asked Marie for them. I poured myself out some coffee and noticed there were three cups on the table. When it got quiet in the shop I put down my cup. I wished Marie were there. I washed my face and hands in the sink next to the stove, combed my hair with the nailbrush lying in the soap dish, smoothed down my shirt collar, pulled up my tie, and had another look at my nails: they were clean. I suddenly knew I must do all these things I never did otherwise.
    When her father came in I had just sat down, I stood up at once. He was as embarrassed as I was, and just as shy, he did not look angry, only very serious, and when he stretched out his hand toward the coffee pot I started, not much but enough to notice. He shook his head, poured himself some coffee, offered me the pot, I said no thank you, he still didn’t look at me. During the night, upstairs in Marie’s bed, in thinking it all over I had felt very confident. I would have liked a cigarette but I didn’t dare take one out of his packet lying on the table. Any other time I would have. Standing there, bent over the table, with his large bald head and the gray untidy ring of hair, I thought he looked very old. I started to say in a low voice, “Mr. Derkum, you have every right,” but he banged his hand on the table, looked at me at last, over the top of his glasses, and said: “Damn it, did you have to do that—and so that the whole neighborhood had to know about it?” I was glad he