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once more. ‘Drink? Whores? You give them my money?’
    No reply. And this cowardice only incensed Hackendahl the more. ‘What shall I do with you?’ he groaned. ‘Go to the police? Send you to prison?’
    No reply.
    ‘What do you want?’ he burst out, turning angrily on his eldest son. ‘Don’t interfere, blockhead.’
    ‘I’m going to the stables,’ said Otto. ‘Shall I give out the feed?’
    ‘You?’ barked the father contemptuously. But the distraction had relieved him and he even let go of Erich. ‘That would be marvellous! No, you go on – I’ll follow presently.’
    ‘Yes, Father,’ said Otto submissively and went.
    Erich had risen and was standing, very pale, on the other side of the bed.
    ‘Have you anything to say?’ The father was trying to whip up his rage again. ‘Be quick – you know I’ve other things to do. I’ve got to earn money for my fine son to steal and booze and whore with.’
    Erich looked up at his father with trembling lips. Now that he was free of that painful grip, and with the bed between them, he spoke. ‘I want something from life …’
    ‘Want, eh? And what do you
give
to it? If you want something, you’ve got to give something back. But you’re only a thief.’
    ‘I don’t want to live like this,’ said Erich sullenly, pushing his hair away from his aching brows. ‘Only school and homework, and when I want half an hour off I’ve got to ask you, and you have your eyes glued to your watch to see that I don’t take a minute longer.’
    ‘
You
can’t live like that? When I was your age I was a farmhand. I
had to get up at three in the morning and when I went to bed at nine o’clock at night I was half dead. And
you
can’t stand five hours of school, good clothes and good food? – That’s too much for
you?
’
    ‘But I’m not a farmhand. A schoolboy doesn’t live on a farm. Times have changed, Father.’
    ‘Yes, they have indeed changed. No respect or honour left. Look at the Reds making a row in front of the Schloss, demanding their rights from the Kaiser. Their rights! And you’ve become a Red as well and want to prove your right to imitation keys and stolen money.’
    ‘You never give me a farthing,’ went on the son defiantly. ‘Haven’t I a right to live like the other boys at school? You brought me into the world and wanted me to study … Very well then, give me what’s necessary. But you only want to tyrannize, you’re only happy when we’re all trembling before you. You’re just like your Kaiser. He who doesn’t obey is shot down.’
    ‘Erich!’ The old man was deeply wounded. ‘How can you say that? All I want is your happiness. What are you talking about? You’ve stolen my key and had a false one made, you’ve stolen my money – and you are trying to defend yourself. Why don’t you repent and ask my forgiveness? Have you gone completely mad? A son steals from his father and it’s the father, not the son, who’s guilty!’
    At this point Heinz, awakened by the quarrel, sat up and said, in his cheeky Berlin manner: ‘Don’t get so worked up, Father. Erich’s got a screw loose, he’s not quite right in the upper storey. The whole school knows that. Why, he’s a Red!’
    ‘A Red!’ cried the father. ‘My son a Red! A Hackendahl a Socialist! Don’t you know that the Kaiser’s said all Socialists are the enemies of the Fatherland and that he’ll smash them?’
    ‘If they don’t first smash your Kaiser,’ said Erich angrily. ‘He can only rattle his sabre, that’s all he’s good for.’
    ‘Father!’ cried Heinz. ‘Don’t take any notice of Erich, he’s cracked.’
    ‘I’ll show him,’ shouted the father. ‘When my own son …’
    He reached out but Erich ducked away.
    ‘Quietly, quietly!’ cried Heinz from his bed.
§ VII
    ‘Just listen to the row,’ wailed the mother. ‘And this early in the morning! Father can never keep quiet – he thinks he’s still in the barracks.’
    Eva sat up in bed,