Flotsam Read Online Free PDF Page A

drunkenness. His thoughts became vague and shrouded in dreams—dreams of a white house among blooming chestnut trees; of a deputation of solemn men in morning coats, come to hand him a scroll of honorary citizenship, and of a dictator in uniform who got down on his knees and weepingly implored his forgiveness.
    It was almost dark when they reached the customs house. The official from the Criminal Bureau turned them over to the customs men and then plodded back through the lilac-colored dusk.
    “It’s still too early,” said an officer who was stopping and searching cars. “About nine-thirty is the best time.”
    Kern and Steiner sat down on a bench in front of the door and watched the cars coming up. After a while a second customs man came out. He led them to the right from the customs house along a path. They went through fields that smelled strongly of dew-wet earth, past a few houses with lighted windows, and a patch of woods. Presently the official stopped. “You go on from here. Keep to the left so that you’ll be hidden by the bushes, until you come to the Morava. It’s not deep now. You can easily wade across.”
    The two started. It was very quiet. After a while Kern looked around. The figure of the customs man was a black silhouette against the sky. He was watching them. They went on.
    On the bank of the Morava, they undressed and made bundles of their clothes and belongings. The river was marshy and hada brown-and-silver look. There were stars in the sky and some clouds through which the moon occasionally broke.
    “I’ll go first,” Steiner said. “I’m taller than you.”
    They waded through the river. Kern felt the cool water rising stealthily about his body as though it would never release him. In front of him, Steiner was slowly and cautiously feeling his way forward. He held his knapsack and clothes above his head. The moon glistened on his broad shoulders. In the middle of the river he stopped and looked around. Kern was close behind him. He smiled and nodded to him.
    They climbed out on the opposite bank and dried themselves hastily with their handkerchiefs. Then they dressed and went on. After a while Steiner stopped. “Now we’re across the border,” he said. His eyes were bright, almost glassy, in the light that filtered through the trees. He looked at Kern. “Is there anything different about the trees here? Or the smell of the wind? Aren’t these the same stars? Do men die differently here?”
    “No,” Kern said. “All that’s the same. But I feel different.”
    They found a place under an old beech tree where they were hidden from sight. In front of them lay a gently sloping meadow. In the distance gleamed the lights of a Slovakian village. Steiner opened his knapsack and looked for cigarettes. He glanced at Kern’s valise. “I’ve found a knapsack more practical than a bag. It isn’t so conspicuous. People take you for a harmless hiker.”
    “They check up on hikers too,” Kern said. “Everyone who looks poor gets checked up on. A car would be the best thing.”
    They lit cigarettes. “I’m going back in an hour,” Steiner said. “And you?”
    “I’ll try to make Prague. The police aren’t so bad there. It’s easy to get a permit to stay for a few days. After that we’ll see. Perhaps I’ll find my father and he can help me. I’ve heard that he’s there.”
    “Do you know where he’s living?”
    “No.”
    “How much money have you?”
    “Twelve schillings.”
    Steiner searched his pockets. “Here’s some more. It ought to get you to Prague.”
    Kern looked up quickly. “Go ahead, take it,” Steiner said. “I still have enough for myself.”
    He showed a couple of bills. In the shadow of the trees Kern couldn’t see what they were. He hesitated for an instant, then he took the money.
    “Thanks,” he said.
    Steiner did not reply. He was smoking and the recurrent glow of his cigarette etched his face in light and shadow. “Why are you on the road,