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flattering your old teacher, Herr Klemmer. But he replies that she’s not old, and he’s not “flattering” her. I really mean every word I say, it comes from the bottom of my heart! Sometimes this nice-looking boy asks for a favor, extra homework, he’d like to practice something extra, because he’s over-zealous. He gazes expectantly at his teacher, hoping for a hint, lying in wait for a pointer. His teacher, on her high horse, cuts the young man down to size when she sneers: You still don’t know the Schönberg all that well. The student enjoys being in the hands of such a teacher, even when she looks down at him while holding the reins tightly.
    That dashing young man seems to be in love with you, Mother says venomously, in a bad mood, when she happens to call for Erika at the conservatory. She wants to take a walk with Erika, two women, arm in arm, intricately interwoven. The weather plays its part as the women walk. There are a lot of things to see in the shop windows—elegant shoes, pocket-books, hats, jewelry—but Erika should not see them under any circumstances. That is why Mother came to pick her up. Mother takes Erika on a circuitous route, telling her it’s because of the beautiful weather. The parks are blossoming, the roses and tulips are blooming, and the flowers certainly don’t buy their dresses. Mother talks to Erika about natural beauty, which doesn’t require any artificial embellishment. Natural beauty is beautiful on its own, just like you, Erika. Why all the baubles?
    The outskirts of the city beckon with warm calls of nature, with fresh hay in the stables. Mother heaves a sigh of relief, she pushes her daughter past the boutiques. Mother is delighted that this stroll has once again cost her no more than some shoe leather. Better to wear worn shoes than to polish the boots of some shop owner.
    The population in this part of Vienna is rather long in the tooth. You see lots of old women. Luckily this one old woman, Mother Kohut, has managed to obtain a younger hanger-on, of whom she can be proud, and who will take care of her until death do them part. Only death can separate them, and death is marked as the destination on Erika’s suitcase. Sometimes, a series of murders takes place in this area, a couple of old crones die in their lairs, which are chock full of waste paper. God only knows where their bankbooks are; but the cowardly murderer knows it too, he looked under the mattress. The jewelry, what little there was, is also gone. And the only son, a silverware salesman, gets nothing. Vienna’s slums are a popular area for murder. It’s never hard to figure out where one of those old women lives. Just about every building here has at least one—she’s the laughingstock of the other tenants. And when a man knocks and says he’s the meter reader, but presents no ID card, she lets him in anyway. They’ve been warned often enough, but still they open their hearts and doors, for they are lonesome. That’s what old Frau Kohut tells Fräulein Kohut, trying to discourage her from ever leaving her mother alone.
    The other inhabitants here are petty officials and placid clerks. There are few children. The chestnut trees are blooming and the trees in the Prater are blossoming. The grapes are turning green in the Vienna Woods. Unfortunately, the Kohut ladies have to abandon all hope of ever going there for a good look, since they don’t own a car.
    However, they often take the trolley to a carefully chosen last stop, where they get out with all the other passengers and cheerfully stride off. Mother and daughter, looking for all the world like Charley Frankenstein’s Wild Aunts, carry rucksacks on their shoulders. Or rather: only the daughter carries a rucksack, which protects Mother’s few belongings, concealing them from curious eyes. Brogue shoes with Solid Soles. Protectionagainst rain is not forgotten (just read
The Hiker’s Guide).
Forewarned is forearmed. Otherwise you’ll be left