I had squatted in front of Franz. He was wearing one of those hats that have a feather from the tail of a bird sticking up on the crown. His once handsome face was like something plucked and hung in a larder.
He said 'He's said to be working for the Nazis.'
I said 'Do you believe that?'
'Why, is it important?'
'Of course it is.'
'Is there anything I could say, that you would necessarily believe?'
Franz seemed to yawn. He made stretching movements with his neck as if he were trying to loosen something from around it. I thought — He was thinking of shooting himself.
I said 'What work are you doing now?'
'I am doing nothing.'
'Are you working for the Nazis?'
'No.'
I said 'You were doing the same sort of work as Max, my husband, is doing in physics.'
Franz tried to laugh: or he sneezed; there was a sound like that of dice being rattled in his throat. He said 'Ah, about that, what can you believe!' Then he sat up and looked around the clearing. It was as if he were acting waking up and noticing where he was for the first time. He said 'But you shouldn't be here! The war's started.'
I said 'I know.'
'Then why have you come?'
'I wanted to talk to you, I told you, as well as find out about my father.*
Franz pressed his knuckles into his eyes. His face was so thin that it was as if his eyes might be pushed out. Then he said as if he were acting again or quoting ' — You cannot know the message without the code: how can you know the code without the message — '
I said 'Don't you know the message?'
He said 'That was a quotation from your father's book: he's had it published, did you know?'
I said 'Which one?'
Franz said 'Yes, I've been doing the same sort of physics as, I
519
suppose, your husband has.' Then — 'Your father's book is on the relationship between language and scientific enquiry.'
I said 'Oh that one.'
Franz said as if quoting again ' — Truth is what occurs: the telling of it can make it something different — '
I said 'And they let him publish that?'
'Who?'
'The Nazis.'
Franz seemed to laugh again with dice rattling in his throat. He said 'Oh in your father's system there is some autonomy for the will.' Then — 'And, of course, they are very stupid.'
Franz put his gun down with the barrel pointing away from him. The black dog, which had been at his feet, wriggled out of the line of fire.
I said 'What else did he have to do? I mean, to get this job.'
Franz seemed to quote again ' — Truth is protected by masks: it can be sensed in the recognition of this — '
I said 'That's my father?'
Franz said 'No, that's me.'
I said 'Then why should I not know what to believe, in talking to you?'
Franz leaned forwards and tickled the ribs of the black dog. He said 'Your father has been put in charge of a department at the Institute which correlates the activities of other scientific departments. He has no direct powers. He is useful because he can get people to work for him who otherwise might be reluctant.'
I said 'Did he have to repudiate my mother?'
'Your mother's dead.'
'I know.'
'And you were in another country.'
I said 'So now what will he be able to do? I mean, you and he, what will you be able to do?'
Franz picked up the gun and held it with the ends of the barrels under his chin. The dog stood facing him with its back arched, its teeth bared.
Franz said 'I do not want to be a traitor to my country.'
I said 'In what way would you be a traitor to your country?'
Franz said 'There are certain circumstances, it is true, in which a patriot might not want his country to be a hundred percent successful in an area of scientifc enquiry over which its wartime leaders would wish to take control.'
I said again 'So what will you do?'
He said 'Ask your father.'
I said 'I'm asking you.'
Franz made a sound like an air-gun going off; like air being let out of a balloon. He took the gun away from under his chin and held it upright in front of him pointing into the air: he bowed his head down in front of it.
He said 'Of course one can always do nothing: I mean, try to see that nothing occurs.'
I said 'Yes, nothing: that was what I was going to ask you.'
He said 'You have not been in touch with your father? He has not been in touch with you?'
I said 'No.'
He said 'Then how did you know?' Then he said quickly, as if to stop my answering this question — 'Oh how did you know, how does one ever know, that is the question.'
I thought I might say — But Franz, we have known each other so long, of course you and I both do and don't know!
Then — We have known this ever since that time of the Reichstag fire in Berlin.
Franz stood up. He brushed at his clothes. He was wearing knee-breeches and a short corduroy jacket. The dog heaved about in front of him. He said 'Come to the house.' He set off along the path through the forest. I followed him. It seemed that it might be easier to talk now that he had his back to me. He said 'What exactly is the work that your Max is doing in England?'
I said 'You know more about it than I do.'
He said 'I've been working in the laboratory in Berlin.'
I said 'And you can go back there?'
He stopped and turned and wagged a finger at me. I looked at the ground and poked a toe amongst the pine-needles, acting as if I were contrite. Then we went on through the forest.
I said 'Were you thinking of shooting yourself?'
He said 'Oh I've always been thinking of shooting myself, as you know!' Then he laughed and said 'That's something that one can talk about!'
When we got to the house we went in and there was heavy wooden furniture and photographs in frames: thick green-and-yello w curtains framing the darker green of the forest. Franz picked up the glass and bottle and ashtray from the floor. He went to a desk and rummaged through its drawers. He said 'We used to talk
about its being aesthetic, what can't be talked about, you remember?'
I said'Yes.'
He said as if quoting ' — How do I trust you: how do you trust me-'
I said'Yes.'
Franz seemed to find what he was looking for in the desk. He held a bit of paper in front of him, reading.
He said 'Not something moral?'
I said 'Oh of course something moral.'
Franz said 'This is the statement that your father made after he had been released from detention; before it was announced that he was to return to the department at the Institute.'
I said'I see.'
He said 'How do you tell what is moral?'
I said 'Can't you tell by the style?'
Franz handed me the piece of paper on which there was pasted a press-cutting. At the bottom of the cutting there was a photograph of my father. I skipped a few paragraphs which did not seem to be interesting; then I read -
I myself am of Aryan descent. My late wife was Jewish. While my wife was still alive I made no statement on this Jewish question. Now, however, I feel free to say that in my opinion all adult human beings — except those suffering from mental incapacity — have to believe that they are responsible for themselves. To suggest otherwise is to suggest that certain persons are not human. This statement about responsibility, of course, I believe applies to the Jewish people.
I laughed and said 'Well dear God, how awful, but this is all right!'
I handed the piece of paper back to Franz. He said 'You recognise the style?'
I said 'My father used to say, as a matter of fact, that Jews were somewhat like gods.'
Franz said 'And gods, to be operative, have to be somewhat hidden: that is what you have come to say?'