[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
this whole thing out quickly."
"Must I come? Can't you ask me your questions here?"
"No. What about the boy?"
"He will come with his father." For a moment Karl thought that his father's decision was made from fear,
that his father needed Karl's moral support. But that was silly, for his father was such a proud, self-reliant
man.
With the soldiers behind them, they walked out of the Parque Central and up Obispo Street until they
reached a gateway guarded by more soldiers. They went through the gate and into a courtyard. Here the
Page 33
captain dismissed the soldiers and gestured for Senor Glogauer to precede him into the building. Slowly,
with dignity, Senor Glogauer ascended the steps and entered the foyer, one hand on his cane, the other
grasping Karl's hand.
"And now this way, senor." The captain indicated a dark passage with many doors leading off it on both
sides. They walked down this. "And down these steps, senor." Down a curving flight of steps into the
basement of the building. The lower passage was lit by oil-lamps.
And another flight of steps.
"Down, please."
And now the smell was worse even than the smell of the Prado. Senor Glogauer took out a pure white
linen handkerchief and fastidiously wiped his lips. "Where are we, senor captain?"
"The cells, Senor Glogauer. This is where we question prisoners and so on."
"You are not -I am not -?"
"Of course not. You are a private citizen. We only seek your help, I assure you. Your own loyalty is not
in question."
Into one of the cells. There was a table in it. On the table was a flickering oil lamp. The lamp cast
shadows which danced sluggishly. There was a strong smell of damp, of sweat, of urine. One of the
shadows groaned. Senor Glogauer started and peered at it. "Mother of God!"
"I am afraid it is your son, senor. As you see. He was captured only about twenty miles from the city. He
claimed that he was a small planter from the other side of the island. But we found his name in his wallet
and someone had heard of you - your cigars, you know, which are so good. We put two and two
together and then you - thank you very much - confirmed that your son was an insurgent. But we wanted
to be sure this was your son, naturally, and not someone who had managed merely to get hold of his
papers. And again, we thank you."
"Karl. Leave," said Senor Glogauer, remembering his other son. His voice was shaking. "At once."
"The sergeant at the door," said the officer, "perhaps he will give you a drink."
But Karl had already seen the dirty steel butcher's hooks on which Willi's wrists had been impaled, had
seen the blue and yellow flesh around the wounds, the drying blood. He had seen Willi's poor, beaten
face, his scarred body, his beast's eyes. Calmly, he came to a decision. He looked up the corridor. It
was deserted.
When his father eventually came out of the cell, weeping and asking to be pardoned and justifying
Page 34
himself and calling upon God and cursing his son all at the same time, Karl had gone. He was walking
steadily, walking on his little legs towards the outskirts of the city, on his way to find the insurgents still at
liberty.
He intended to offer them his services.
-And why do you dislike Americans?
-I don't like the way some of them think they own the world.
- But didn't your people think that for centuries? Don't they still?
- It's different.
-And why do you collect model soldiers?
-I just do. It's relaxing. A hobby.
- Because you can't manipulate real people so easily?
- Think what you like. Karl turns over on the bed and immediately regrets it. But he lies there.
He feels the expected touch on his spine. Now you are feeling altogether more yourself, aren't you,
Karl?
Karl's face is pressed into the pillow. He cannot speak.
The man's body presses down on his and for a moment he smiles. Is this what they mean by the White
Man's Burden?
- Sssssshhhhh, says the black man.
What Would You Do? (5)
You have three children.
Page 35
One is eight years old. A girl.
One is six years old. A girl.
One is a few months old. A boy.
You are told that you can save any two of them from death, but not all three. You are given five minutes
to choose.
Which one would you sacrifice?
6
London Sewing Circle: 1905: A Message One would have thought that the meaning of the word
"sweating" as applied to work was sufficiently obvious. But when "the Sweating System" was inquired
into by the Committee of the House of Lords, the meaning became suddenly involved. As a matter of fact
the sweater was originally a man who kept his people at work for long hours. A schoolboy who "sweats"
for his examination studies for many hours beyond his usual working day. The schoolboy meaning of the
word was originally the trade meaning.
But of late years the sweating system has come to mean an unhappy combination of long hours and low
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]