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and he went on, because it was his belief that you could talk your way into or out of anything and that if you were persistent enough, in the end people would just give in. “I’ve got the address of a doctor on Frankfurter Allee, he writes medical excuses just like that, he just doesn’t want any trouble afterward. He’ll do it for me, I’m sure; in ten days I’ll be back in the hospital and you’ll be rid of me, Evie!”
    Tired of all the chat, she spoke at last: “Look, Enno, I don’t care if you stay here till midnight talking, I’m not taking you back. I’m never doing that again; I don’t care what you say or what you do. I’m not going to let you wreck everything again with your laziness and your horses and your hussies. You’ve done it three times, and then a fourth, and then more, but I’ve reached my limit, and that’s it. I’m going to sit down on the steps, because I’m tired, I’ve been on my feet since six. If you want to, you can sit down, I don’t care. You can talk or not, that’s up to you: as I said, I don’t care. But you’re not setting foot in my apartment ever again!”
    She sat down on the same step where he had stood and waited for her. And her words sounded so determined that he felt no amount of talking would change her mind. So he pulled his cap slightly askew and said: “Well, Evie, if that’s the way you feel about it, and you won’t even do me a little favor when you know I’m in trouble, the man you had five children with, three of them in the ground, and the other two away fighting for Führer and fatherland…” He broke off. He had been talking mechanically to himself, going on and on as he was used to doing in pubs, even though he had grasped that there was no point in it now. “All right then, Evie, I’m going. And let me tell you, I’ve no complaints against you, I’m no better than I ought to be, Evie, you know that, but at least I don’t bear grudges.”
    “Because you don’t care about a thing in the world except your races,” she retorted, in spite of herself. “Because nothing else interests you, and because you don’t feel an ounce of affection for anything else, not even for yourself, Enno Kluge.” But she stopped rightaway; she knew it was useless talking to this man. She waited a while, and then she said, “Weren’t you going to leave now?”
    “I am going, Evie,” he said surprisingly. “Be a good girl. I don’t hold anything against you. Heil Hitler, Evie!”
    She was still firmly convinced this leavetaking was a trick on his part, a prelude to a new and stupefying bout of talk. To her limitless surprise, he said nothing further, but really did start walking down the stairs.
    For one or two minutes more she continued to sit on the stairs, as though numb. She couldn’t believe she had won. She heard his footfall on the bottom step, he hadn’t stopped anywhere to hide, he really was going! Then the front door banged shut. With trembling hand she unlocked her apartment door; she was so nervous, she couldn’t get the key into the keyhole. Once inside, she put on the chain and slumped into a kitchen chair. Her arms dropped; the struggle had taken the last of her strength. She had no more energy. If someone had prodded her with a finger, she would have fallen out of the chair.
    Gradually, as she sat there, strength and life returned to her. She had done it at last, her willpower had defeated his obstinacy. She had successfully guarded her home, kept it for herself. He wouldn’t be sitting around here anymore, banging on about horses and stealing every mark and every piece of bread that crossed his path.
    She leaped up now, full of renewed courage. This little bit of life was what remained to her. After the endless work for the post office, she needed these few hours here to herself. The delivery round was hard for her, harder with each passing day. Earlier in her life she had suffered from female troubles, and that was why her three