Free Fame by Daniel Kehlmann Page A

the reflections. He ran his hand over her hair, murmured something to cover his confusion, and went downstairs to the streetcar stop.
    In the streetcar, no one bothered him. He tried to see himself in the glass, but it didn’t work, any more than it did in shop windows, there seemed to be no more reflecting surfaces to be found anywhere. On the edge of the sidewalk he saw two posters for By Fire and Sword. It wasn’t till he reached thegate of the villa, all out of breath, that he realized his pockets were empty. He must have lost the key in all the turmoil. He pressed the bell.
    “It’s me,” he called into the intercom. “I’m back early.”
    “Who?”
    He swallowed. Then, fully aware that this response wasn’t a good idea in the circumstances, he repeated, “Me.”
    The intercom was switched off. Thirty seconds later the front door opened: Ludwig came out and walked across the lawn, dragging his feet. Leaning against the grill, his weathered face peered through the bars.
    “It’s me,” said Ralf for the third time.
    “And who is ‘me’?”
    It took him a moment to understand that Ludwig wasn’t trying to debate an abstract philosophical point, but that he didn’t recognize him.
    “I’m Ralf Tanner!”
    “That’ll surprise the boss.”
    “I’m back early.”
    “The boss came home hours ago,” said Ludwig. “So please leave.”
    “This is my house!”
    “We’ll call the police.”
    “Can I … speak to the man who claims he’s Ralf Tanner?”
    “That’s you.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “The man who claims he’s Ralf Tanner is you.”
    “Can I … speak to Ralf Tanner?”
    Ludwig looked at him with a thin smile. “Ralf Tanner is a very famous actor. Hundreds of people want things from him. His phone never stops ringing. Do you think he’s going to interrupt what he’s doing to chat with you, because he’s so glad you look like him?”
    “Ludwig, surely you recognize me?”
    “You know my name. Congratulations. So when did you hire me?”
    He rubbed his forehead. What kind of a question was that? He was too taken aback to remember. Ludwig seemed to have been with him forever, that lumpy, lugubrious face his lifetime companion. “Can I speak to the others? Can you get Malzacher on the phone with me?”
    “My dear man, let me give you some advice. Of course we can do these things. You can summon the entire household. Maybe you’ll even get Ralf Tanner to come outside himself. But what would you have gained? Ridicule, mockery, an extremely unpleasant encounter with the police, and, if you keep this up, a charge of harassment. You’re dealing with a star, and that means zero tolerance. He has to protect himself. I know he plays a large role in your life. You know all his movies, you accompany him and he accompanies you, he has no finer audience, but now you’ve reached a line you shouldn’t try to cross. Go home. I’m an old man, I’ve seen a lot of you, and I don’t want people to make themselves unhappy. You seem to be a nice guy. Pull yourself together!”
    He felt dizzy. Opened his mouth and closed it again. Breathed in and out. Blinked in the sun.
    “Are you feeling all right?” asked Ludwig. “Would you like a glass of water?”
    He shook his head, turned around, and walked away slowly. All around him were villas, hedges, and high garden fences. There was a smell of mown grass. He stopped, then sat down on the ground.
    What had happened? Had some imposter taken his place? It must be the impersonator he’d met in the Looppool; maybe the guy had seen through him and taken advantage of the moment to relegate him forcibly and completely into the role of a man named Matthias Wagner, spectator, imitator, and fan. A man who’d so submerged himself in the existence of a model who looked just like him that he’d come to confuse that other existence with his own. It happened. You could read about it in the newspapers. Pensively he took out his identity card, read the name printed