Beneath the Wheel Read Online Free PDF Page A

their names and sensed dimly that this obscure small world of lanes and valleys was lost to him without ever having been replaced by something lively or worth experiencing.
    Because he still had leave from school that day, he slept well into the morning and enjoyed his freedom. At noon he met his father at the station. His father still babbled blissfully about all his Stuttgart experiences.
    â€œI’ll give you anything you wish if you’ve passed,” he said happily. “Give it some thought.”
    â€œNo, no,” sighed the boy. “I’m sure I failed.”
    â€œNonsense, what’s the matter with you? Tell me what you want before I change my mind.”
    â€œI’d like to be able to go fishing again during vacation.”
    â€œFine. You can if you pass.”
    Next day, a Sunday, there was a thunderstorm and downpour and Hans sat for hours in his room, thinking and reading. Once more he reviewed what he had accomplished in Stuttgart and again reached the conclusion that he’d had rotten luck and could have done much better. Anyway, he certainly hadn’t done well enough to pass. That stupid headache! Gradually he began to feel oppressed by a growing dread, and finally he went to see his father, profoundly worried.
    â€œFather—”
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    â€œI’d like to ask something. About the wish. I’d rather not go fishing.”
    â€œWhy do you bring that up again now?”
    â€œBecause I … I wanted to ask whether I couldn’t…”
    â€œOut with it. What a farce. What is it?”
    â€œWhether I could go to secondary school if I didn’t pass?”
    Herr Giebenrath was left speechless.
    â€œWhat? Secondary school?” he exploded. “Go to secondary school? Who put that scheme into your head?”
    â€œNo one, I just thought…”
    Deathly fear stood written all over his face but the father didn’t notice.
    â€œOff with you, off,” he said with an unhappy laugh. “What extravagant notions. You seem to think I’m a bank president.”
    He dismissed the matter so decisively that Hans gave up and went outside in despair.
    â€œWhat a kid that is,” he heard his father grumbling behind him. “It’s unbelievable, now he wants to go to secondary school. Give them an inch and…”
    For half an hour Hans sat on the window sill, stared at the freshly polished floor boards and tried to imagine what it would be like if he was unable to attend the academy or secondary school and continue his studies. He would be apprenticed to some cheesy shop or become a clerk in an office and his entire life he would be one of the ordinary poor people, whom he despised and wanted to surpass. His handsome, intelligent schoolboy’s face twisted into an ugly grimace filled with anger and suffering. In a fury he leapt up, spat out, grabbed the Latin anthology lying by his side and with all his strength tossed it against the wall. Then he ran out into the rain.
    Monday morning he went to school.
    â€œHow is everything?” asked the principal, shaking his hand. “I thought you would come to see me yesterday. How did the examination go?”
    Hans lowered his head.
    â€˜Well, what is it? Didn’t you do well?”
    â€œI guess I did, yes.”
    â€œJust be patient,” the old man soothed him. “Presumably we’ll have the results from Stuttgart this morning.”
    The morning seemed endless. The results did not come, and by lunchtime Hans could hardly swallow, he was so close to sobbing out loud.
    When he entered the classroom at two in the afternoon the teacher was there.
    â€œHans Giebenrath!” he exclaimed loudly.
    Hans stepped forward. The teacher shook his hand.
    â€œMy congratulations. You came in second in the state examination.”
    A solemn hush settled over the classroom, the door opened and the principal entered.
    â€œMy