Karen gave birth to a boy.
At six o’clock in the morning she called Isolde Schirmacher and bade
her go for the midwife. When she was alone she screamed so piercingly
that a young girl from a neighbouring flat hastened in to ask what
ailed her. This girl was the daughter of a Jewish salesman who went
about the city taking orders for a thread mill. Her name was Ruth
Hofmann. She was about sixteen. She had dark grey eyes and ash-blond
hair that fell loose to her shoulders, where it was evenly clipped and
made little attempts to curl.
Isolde in her haste had left the hall-door open, and Ruth Hofmann had
been able to enter. Her pale face grew a shade paler when she caught
sight of the screaming and writhing woman. She had never yet seen a
woman in labour. Yet she grasped Karen’s hands and held them firmly in
her own, and spoke to the suffering woman in a sweet and soothing voice
until the midwife came.
When Christian arrived, a cradle stood by Karen’s bed, and on its
pillows lay an unspeakably ugly little creature. Karen nursed the child
herself; but no maternal happiness was to be seen in her. A sombre
contempt lay in the very way in which she handled the infant. If it
cried, she gave it to Isolde Schirmacher. The odour of diapers filled
the room.
On the second day Karen was up and about again. When Christian came
that evening, he found the widow Engelschall and Ruth Hofmann. The
widow Engelschall said that she would take the child into her care.
Karen cast an uncertain glance at Christian. The woman said in a loud
tone: “Five thousand marks for the care of it, and everything’s
settled. What you need is rest, and then you’ll have it.”
“Far’s I’m concerned you can do what you please,” said Karen peevishly.
“What do you think, Herr Wahnschaffe?” The widow Engelschall turned to
Christian.
He replied: “It seems to me that a child should stay with its mother.”
Karen gave a dry laugh, in which her mother joined. Ruth Hofmann arose.
Christian asked her courteously whether she had any request to make.
She shook her head so that her hair moved a little. Suddenly she gave
him her hand, and it seemed to Christian as though he had long known
her.
He had already told Karen that he was leaving the city for a time; but
he postponed his departure a whole week.