The Tanners

It was about two in the afternoon when Simon arrived by train in the metropolis he’d left behind around three months before. The station was full of people and completely black, filled with that train station odor that’s absent only from small, rural stations. Simon was trembling as he got off; he was hungry, stiff, exhausted, sad and sapped of all courage, besides which he couldn’t shake off a certain trepidation, though he kept telling himself his trepidation was utterly foolish. Like most travelers, he checked his luggage at the luggage window and lost himself in the crowd. As soon as he was able to move freely again, he immediately felt better and once more was conscious of his effortless good health — now in top form owing to his time in the country. He ate something at one of those odd public establishments. So here he was eating again, without much appetite; for the food was meager and poor, good enough for a down-at-the-heels city-dweller, but not for a spoiled denizen of the countryside. The people looked at him attentively, as if they could tell he’d just arrived from the country. Simon thought: “These people must surely sense that I’m used to better food; something of the sort can be discerned in my approach to this meal.” In fact he left half of it behind on his plate, paid his bill and couldn’t help remarking airily to the waitress how far from tasty he’d found it. The waitress gazed at the scornful customer contemptuously, amicably contemptuously, just ever so slightly, as if she had no need to feel indignant at the affront, seeing it was a person of this sort who’d complained and not another. If it had been someone else, well then, certainly, but on account of such a one! — Simon walked out. He was feeling happy, the second-rate meal and the girl’s insulting glance notwithstanding. The sky was a pale blue. Simon gazed at it: Yes, here too he had a sky. In this respect it was perfectly silly to be so partial to the countryside at the city’s expense. He resolved to stop thinking back on the countryside now and to acclimatize himself to this new world. He saw how people went walking on before him, going much faster than he did; for in the country he’d grown accustomed to an ambling, deliberate gait, as though he were afraid of advancing too quickly. Well, for today he decided to permit himself to go on walking like a peasant, but from tomorrow on he’d stride forward in a different manner. He observed people affectionately, however, with no trace of shyness, he met their eyes and looked at their legs to see how they were moving them, at their hats to observe the progress of fashion, and at their clothes to be able to judge his own outfit still good enough compared with the many unlovely garments he was now industriously scrutinizing. How hurriedly they walked, these people. He would have liked to stop one of them and address to him the words: What’s the rush? But then he seemed to lack the courage for such a foolish undertaking. He felt fine, though he was also a bit weary and tense. A tiny, undeniable mournfulness held him in its grasp, but that harmonized well with the light, happy, somewhat overcast sky. It also harmonized with the city, where to wear too sunny an expression was all but unseemly. Simon had to confess to himself that he was walking there looking for nothing, but he nonetheless found it expedient to assume the bearing of a seeker, someone pressing rapidly forward like all the others, for he had no wish to play the role of the idle newcomer. He preferred not to call attention to himself, and it did him good to see his behavior wasn’t attracting notice. From this he concluded that he was still capable of city life, and so he carried himself a bit more upright than before and acted as though he were carrying around with him a small, elegant intention, one that he was imperturbably pursuing, but which elicited from him no worry, only interest, and would not dirty his shoes or tire his hands. He was just now walking through a beautiful affluent street planted on both sides with blossoming trees, a street in which, given how broad it was, you had the sky more freely before your eyes. It was truly a splendid bright street, just the sort to conjure up the most pleasant existences and inspire dreams. Simon now completely forgot his plan of walking through this street with a deliberate air. He let himself go, allowed himself to drift, looking now at the ground, now up above, now to the side into one of the many shop windows, before one of which he finally remained standing, without actually looking at anything. He found it agreeable to have the noise of the beautiful lively street at his back and yet also in his ears. His perceptions distinguished the footsteps of individual passers-by, all of whom no doubt could only assume he was standing there taking a good look at something on display in the shop window. Suddenly he heard someone addressing him. He turned around and beheld a lady demanding that he carry a package she was holding out to him all the way to her home. This lady was not particularly beautiful, but at this moment Simon’s task was not to lose himself in reflections concerning the degree of her beauty but rather, as an inner voice cried out to him, to step lively and do as she instructed. He took the package, which wasn’t at all heavy, and carried it, following behind the lady as she cut across the street with small, measured steps without turning even once to look back at the young man. Having arrived before an, as it appeared, distinguished building the woman commanded him to come upstairs with her, and so he did. He saw no reason why he should refuse to comply. Accompanying this lady into her home felt perfectly natural, and obeying her voice was quite appropriate for his situation, which was so undefined. He would perhaps still have been standing before the shop window gaping, he thought as he climbed the stairs. When they reached the top, the woman invited him inside. She went on ahead and gestured him into a room whose door she opened. To Simon the room appeared quite splendid. The woman came in, sat down on one of the chairs, cleared her throat a little, looked at the one standing before her and asked whether he might make up his mind to enter her service. The impression she had of him, she went on, was that of an individual standing idly about in the world, a person one would be doing a favor by offering him work. As for the rest, she found him quite passable, and would he please tell her whether he was inclined to accept her offer?