Free Mendelssohn is on the Roof by Jiří Weil Page A

until after office hours, but the head of the Central Bureau was too impatient. He looked forward to the gift and hoped Fiedler wouldn’t fail, hoped he’d bring him something really fine. He rang, and a few moments later Fiedler returned with a carefully wrapped package under his arm. He carried it gingerly, as if it were a holy relic.
    ‘What is it?’ the head of the Central Bureau asked eagerly.
    ‘It’s guaranteed genuine old Meissen. Very valuable Meissen.’
    ‘What does it represent?’
    ‘I’d rather not tell you. It’s a surprise.’
    They unwrapped it with excitement, completely disregarding the wood shavings falling on the immaculate rug.
    Finally a figurine came into view, actually a group of figures.
    ‘My God, how beautiful!’
    ‘It’s one of the most valuable pieces. Please observe thatit’s a group representing the Judgement of Paris. Only a very few of these were manufactured. They have one of them in the Meissen museum, but this one is better. The Prague Museum of Industrial Design has a large collection of Meissen china, but they don’t have this one. I looked up the literature. This group was commissioned directly by King Augustus, and the models for the three goddesses were Augustus’s three mistresses. It appears that there is one other in private ownership in England, but that one is probably a fake. This piece, however, is guaranteed to be genuine. I had it examined by an expert.’
    ‘Thank you. You’ve done an excellent job. This will be the most beautiful present for my mother’s birthday.’
    The figures of the goddesses had the delicate beauty of rococo mistresses rather than the austere look of antiquities. The curves of their bodies were rounded, their hips slender, their breasts small. They stood there naked before Paris, first Aphrodite, behind her Pallas Athena, and then, last but not least, the more substantial Hera. And it was clear that Paris could offer the golden apple to one alone – the goddess born from the foam of the sea.
    He gazed for a long time at the sculpted group, unable to tear his eyes away from it. Finally he said, ‘Have it carefully wrapped. I want you to guarantee that the gift will arrive in good order. You may request a special plane in my name.’
    Fiedler placed the porcelain back in the box and walked to the door. The head of the Central Bureau followed him with his eyes, catching the last glints of the goddesses’ rosy limbs glistening in the shavings.

SIX
    H E HEARD THE VOICES, but he couldn’t see their faces. The voices were arguing fiercely about something, but he could catch only a few words: ‘I said it was an important scientific case, that the research has meaning for the Reich.’ ‘An order is an order. They won’t rescind it.’ ‘They turned me down at the German University.’
    He knew they were talking about him. The time had come for the move from the hospital. He didn’t know where they would take him, but it didn’t interest him much. His days were numbered. There was no help for him, and all the experiments they were doing on him were only meant to prolong their research. Of course he couldn’t be entirely indifferent. This meant he’d lose touch with the world, even though the world was now limited to Jan alone. He knew he’d never see Adela and Greta again. But if Jan couldn’t visit him, he wouldn’t have any news of them.
    He had met Jan Krulis in a cafe years ago. It was a fashionable cafe divided into three rooms. There was dancing in one, card games in another, while people sat around tables drinking black coffee in the third. Some of them were reading Rimbaud or Lautréamont or Breton. Others were puzzling over Freud, still others were inventing machines for living, as they used to call homes in those days. Different interest groups would always sit together at the same table, although some people circulated from table to table. There were also regulars at the cafe who did nothing and knew nothing. They