The Washington times., 1931-12-12

l,emory.
And what are you doing
now, George" ask.
He tops the heads of the
thist,es with his stick as we
walk. 1--WE had a look at
most things, Ernst - profes-
sions, ideals, politics-but I
don't fit into this show. What
does it amount to?-Every-
wher- profiteering. suspicion,
indifference, utter selfishness."
I FEEL rather exhausted with
walking so we sit on a seat
on the Klosterberg.
The spires of the town below
simmer green, the roofs
steam, and smoke rises silver
from the chimneys. Georg
points downward. Like
spidc-~, they lurk there in
thu offices, their shops, their
professions, each one of them
ready to suck the other man
dry. And then the rest hang
ing over each one of them
families societies, authorities,
laws, the State! One spiders
web over another! True, one
may call that life, if one likes,
and a man may even pride
himself on crawling about
under It his 40 years and more;
but I learned at the Front that
time is not the measure OF
life. Why should I climb down
40 years? I have been putting
all my money, for years now,
on one card and the stake has
always been life. I can't play
now for halfpence. and small
advances"
Cannon Fodder
"You weren't in the trenches
the last year. Georg," say.
Things may have been diff
ferent with the air force, but
sometimes, for months together,
we would never see a single
man of the enemy, we were
just so much cannon fodder.
There was no play, I assure
you, no bidding, and nothing
to put into the pool; there was
merely waiting, till a man stop
ped his packet at last"
I'm not talking of the war
at all, Ernst. I am talking OF
the youth and the comrade-
ship"
"Yes, that's all finished"
say.
1--WE have lived as it were
in a hothouse - says Georg
meditatively. ''and now we are
old men. But it's as well to
be clear about it. I am not.
complaining; I'm merely bal,
ancing accc6lts. For me, all
roads are shut. There is moth
ing left but to vegetate. And
I don't mean to do that.
mean to be free"
"Ach, Georg," I reply, what
you say only means an END
of things. But somewhere,
somehow, there must be a be-
ginning for us too. I believe
I had a first glimpse OF it to-
day. Ludwig knew it, but he
was too sick"
Georg puts an arm around
my shoulder. Eyes, yes, l know
you mean, just be useful
. Ernst"
lean against him. when
you say it. it sounds unctuous
and hateful: but there must
be a comradeship in it some
where. Georg, though we don't
understand it as yet"
Sitting in Silence
I should like to tell him some
thing of what I experienced
there in the meadow. But I can
not hold it in my words.
We sit in silence side by SIDE.
"Well, what are, you going TO
do now, George?" ask after
while.
He smiles thoughtfully. Il.
Ernst?-1t was bad luck 1
wasn't killed. AS things are
now. I am merely rather ridicu-
louS.
I push his hand away and
look at him.
81 think I'll go off again for
a bit first''-he treasures me.
He toys with his waking stick
and looks idly ahead. do you
remember what Giesecke said
once? In the asylum up there?
He wanted to go to Fleury-
back, you see. He thought that
might help him."
/ nod. "He's still up there.
Karl went to see him the other
day."
A light breeze has risen. We
look out over the town to the
long row of poplars, where as
boys we used to build tents and
was always the chief, and I
loved him as only boys, who
know nothing about it, can love.
Our eyes met. "Old Shatter-
hand!" says Georg Solemnly,
and then he smiles.
"Winnetou!" reply just as
quietly.
Ito be continued Monday
Copyright. Erich Maria Remarque.
1881; distributed by United Fea-
lures SyDdicate.0
ss