The Collected Stories of Heinrich Boll Read Online Free PDF Page A

away all his knives, he turned to the audience and in the same odiously stagy voice announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am now about to outline this young man with knives, but I wish to demonstrate to you that I do not throw blunt knives.” He produced a piece of string, and with perfect sangfroid removed one knife after another from its pocket, touched the string with each, cutting it into twelve pieces, and then replaced the knives one by one in their pockets.
    While all this was going on I looked far beyond him, far beyond the wings, far beyond the half-naked girls, into another life, it seemed …
    The tension in the audience was electrifying. Jupp came over to me, pretended to adjust the rope, and said softly into my ear, “Don’t move a muscle, and trust me …”
    This added delay nearly broke the tension, it was threatening to peter out, but he suddenly stretched out his arms, letting his hands flutter like hovering birds, and his face assumed that look of magical concentration that I had marveled at on the stairs. He appeared to be casting a spell over the audience too with this sorcerer’s pose. I seemed to hear a strange, unearthly groan and realized that this was a warning signal for me.
    Withdrawing my gaze from limitless horizons, I looked at Jupp, now standing opposite me so that our eyes were on a level; he raised his hand, moving it slowly toward a pocket, and again I realized that this was a signal for me. I stood completely still and closed my eyes …
    It was a glorious feeling, lasting maybe two seconds, I’m not sure. Listening to the swish of the knives and the short sharp hiss of air as they plunged into the fake blue door, I felt as if I were walking along a very narrow plank over a bottomless abyss. I walked with perfect confidence, yet felt all the thrill of danger. I was afraid, yet absolutely certain that I would not fall; I was not counting, yet I opened my eyes at the very moment when the last knife pierced the door beside my right hand …
    A storm of applause jerked me bolt upright. I opened my eyes properly to find myself looking into Jupp’s white face: he had rushed over to me and was untying the rope with trembling hands. Then he pulled me into the center of the stage, right up to the very edge. He bowed, and I bowed; as the applause swelled he pointed to me and I to him; then he smiled at me, I smiled at him, and we both bowed smiling to the audience.
    Back in the cubicle, not a word was said. Jupp threw the perforated playing cards onto the chair, took my coat off the nail and helped me on with it. Then he hung his cowboy costume back on the nail, pulled on his windbreaker, and we put on our caps. As I opened the door the little bald-headed man rushed up to us shouting, “I’m raising you to forty marks!” He handed Jupp some cash. I realized then that Jupp was my boss, and I smiled; he looked at me too and smiled.
    Jupp took my arm, and side by side we walked down the narrow, poorly lit stairs that smelled of stale greasepaint. When we reached the foyer Jupp said with a laugh, “Now let’s go and buy some cigarettes and bread …”
    But it was not till an hour later that I realized I now had a proper profession, a profession where all I needed to do was stand still and dream a little. For twelve or twenty seconds. I was the man who has knives thrown at him …

RISE, MY LOVE, RISE
    Her name on the rough-hewn cross was no longer legible; the cardboard coffin lid had already collapsed, and where a few weeks ago there had been a mound there was now a hollow in which soiled, rotting flowers and faded ribbons, mixed with fir needles and bare twigs, formed a nauseating pulp. Someone must have stolen the candle ends.…
    “Rise, my love,” I whispered, “rise,” and my tears mingled with the rain, the monotonous murmuring rain that had been falling for weeks.
    I closed my eyes: I was afraid my wish might come true. In my mind’s eye I distinctly saw the sagging