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"So your Father and I have an acquaintance in common. That is splendid, Karl." Frau Spiegelberg made
to turn away. "A handsome boy, Frau -"
"And Father shook hands with him," said Karl.
"Really? Well..."
"And Father said he drank so much beer that his hands were always wet and clammy and he could not
possibly live for long if he continued to drink that much. Father is, himself, not averse to a few tots of
beer or glasses of punch, but he swears he has never seen anyone drink so much in all his life. Is Bill
Bismarck dead yet, Frau Spiegelberg?"
His mother had been listening to him in cold horror, her mouth open. Frau Spiegelberg raised her
eyebrows. The other ladies glanced at each other. Miss Henshaw took his hand and began to pull him
away, apologizing to his mother.
Karl bowed again. "I am honored to have met you, Frau Spiegelberg," he said in his father's voice. "I am
afraid I have embarrassed you and so I will take my leave now." Miss Henshaw's tugging became more
insistent. "I hope we shall meet again before you return to Berlin, Frau Spiegelberg..."
"It is time I left," icily said Frau Spiegelberg to his mother.
His mother came out for a moment and hissed:
"You disgusting child. You will be punished for this. Your father shall do it."
"But, Mother...".
"In the meantime, Miss Henshaw," said Frau Glogauer in a terrible murmur, "you have my permission to
beat the boy."
Karl shuddered as he caught a glint of hidden malice in Miss Henshaw's pale, grey eyes.
"Very well, madam," said Miss Henshaw. As she led him away he heard her sigh a deep sigh of
pleasure.
Already, he was plotting his own revenge.
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- You'll like it better when you get used to it. It's a question of your frame of mind. Karl sighs. - Maybe.
- It's a matter of time, that's all.
- I believe you.
- You've got to let yourself go.
They sip the dry, chilled champagne the black man has ordered. Outside, people are going into the
theatres.
- After all, says the black man - we are many people. There are a lot of different sides to one's
personality. You mustn't feel that you've lost something. You have gained something. Another aspect is
flowering.
- I feel terrible.
- It won't last. Your moment will come. Karl smiles. The black man's English is not always perfect.
- There, you see, you are feeling more relaxed already. The black man reaches out and touches his
arm. - How smooth your flesh is. What are you thinking?
- I was remembering the time I found the air-raid warden in bed with my mother. I remember her
explaining it to my father. My father was a patient man.
- Is your father still alive?
- I don't know.
- You have a great deal to learn, yet.
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What Would You Do? (3)
You are returning from the theatre after a pleasant evening with your sweetheart. You are in the centre of
the city and you want a taxi. You decide to go to the main railway station and find a taxi there. As you
come into a side-entrance and approach a flight of steps you see an old man trying to ascend. He is
evidently incapably drunk. Normally you would help him up the steps, but in this case there is a problem.
His trousers have fallen down to his ankles, revealing his filthy legs. From his bottom protrude several
pieces of newspaper covered in excrement. To help him would be a messy task, to say the least, and you
are reluctant to spoil the previously pleasant mood of the evening. There is a second or two before you
pass him and continue on your journey.
4
Capetown Party: 1892: Butterflies In the meantime let us not forget that if errors of judgment have been
committed, they have been committed by men whose zeal and patriotism has never been doubted. We
cannot refrain, however, from alluding here to the greatest of all lessons which this war has taught, not us
alone, but all the world - the solidarity of the Empire. And for that great demonstration what sacrifice was
not worth making.
WITH THE FLAG TO PRETORIA.
H. W. Wilson, Harmsworth Brothers 1900.
Karl emerges from the deep bath. Liquid drips from him. He stares in bewilderment at himself in the wall
mirror opposite.
- Why did you make me do that?
-I thought you'd like it. You said how much you admired my body.
-I meant your physique.
-Oh, I see.
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- I look like something out of a minstrel show. Al Jolson...
- Yes, you do rather. But you could pass for what? An Eurasian? The black man begins to laugh. Karl
laughs, too. They fall into each other's arms.
- It shouldn't take long to dry, says the black man. Karl is nine. Is 1892. He is at work now.
-I think I like you better like that, says the black man. He puts a palm on Karl's damp thigh. - It's your
color ... Karl giggles.
- There, you see, it has made you feel better.
KARL WAS NINE. His mother did not know her age. He did not know his father. He was a servant in
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