Perlefter Read Online Free Page A

with some of them. Some he even called his friends. But they were really not all his friends, those whom he thus designated. When he, for example, said ‘My friend, the Minister’ it wasn’t true. It was safe to assume that the Minister never said ‘My friend, the merchant Perlefter’. But what did it mean? There was a small nuance. For, in reality, none of these men would have paid him any attention had he not been one of their club mates. They loaned each other money – with interest naturally. They did business with each other but only when each party profited. And thus they ensured not only their own well-being but also securedfriendships. For how can one resent an institution that only earns or at least will never cost anything?
    Perlefter’s membership of this club was seen at home as an honour and a signifier of rank. Frau Perlefter often said to her guests, ‘My husband’s in a club!’ or ‘Do you know what happened yesterday? My husband heard it at the club!’ She spoke the words slowly, stretching her voice in such a way that the harmless term seemed sinister, terrible, as if it were a supreme court. On the other hand, Alexander spoke of his club as if it were perfectly ordinary and understandable. ‘I’m going to the club!’ he said, as one would say, ‘I’m going to take the tram.’ And so when Perlefter said ‘club’ there was a moment of silence at the table, and I distinctly believe that each family member was proud during that very brief moment and actually imagining themselves in the club. It was practically as if all the club members were there in the room. It was not as if Herr Perlefter was going to the club but, rather, as if the club had come to Perlefter.
    To the family there was nothing that could not be accomplished with the help of the club. ‘Enquire about it some time at the club!’ said Frau Perlefter. If one needed the assistance of the police, they said, ‘Bring it up at the club!’ Perlefter himself often said, ‘I will see what can be done about it at the club!’ or ‘I will discuss this at the club!’ And only in the most difficult and desperate times did he say, ‘I’m going to speak with the editor Philippi.’
    The editor Philippi was the final authority andrightfully so. For he held the post of City Editor at one of the larger papers. Nobody could speak ill of him. He could easily speak ill of everyone else. But he did not often do so. He looked quite dumb but was very intelligent. He had a small, neatly maintained goatee of an uncertain, slightly greenish colour. His gentle large brown eyes were like lacquered lifeless balls. He spoke only when he was addressed. Summer and winter he wore galoshes. Pince-nez dangled from a thin chain over his flowery waistcoat with mother-of-pearl buttons. He liked to sit at the outermost edge of his seat. It was as if he wanted to spare the seat. He was a bachelor. There were rumours that he had had an affair with a housekeeper and had two illegitimate sons. This City Editor was necessarily secretive. One would certainly not like him if one would not need him so often. No, people didn’t actually like him, but they did need him often. He had influence. He was Perlefter’s most distinguished acquaintance. People often gave him the title ‘Editor’, but that was not really his actual title, or they pretended not to know that he was not a doctor and called him ‘Doctor’. He rejected both. He smiled foolishly with his bulging ball-eyes, but his seeming stupidity was not to be trusted. One said of him that he was a man of honour. He conducted no business. He lived, in reality, very modestly, always wearing his rubber overboots to save his leather boots because in his opinion the streets were too muddy. Have I mentioned this already? He was one of the most distinguished visitors to Perlefter’s house. For