Kuno Kohn will read from his own works at the
Clou Club. Young girls and lawyers kindly requested
not to attend.
As the evening approached, Kuno Kohn became increasingly agitated.
Two hours before he had himself shaved. When the man asked whether
the gentleman wanted powder, Kohn shook his head no, but said: "yes."
An hour before Kohn went into a police station and asked for ten
five-pfennig stamps and a ten pfennig postal card. (tr.--thinking
that he is in the post-office).
When Kohn stepped on the podium, he became calmer than he had
expected to be. First he made a slip of the tongue, but then his
voice gradually became firm and clear. Very few people were in the
little hall, but some critics from the large, influential newspapers
were in attendance. The next day one of them declared, in the widely
circulated Alten Buergerzeitung, that the poems the poet Kohn, who
enlists our sympathy because of his physical handicap, brought to the
attention of a sparsely attended hall were not yet ready for
publication; however, one might expect something from his muse when
Kohn has matured. Another declared, in the Journal for Enlightened
Citizens: the overall impression is pleasing, but the poems are not
all of the same quality. In addition, the poet had not read well.
But the first line of the first verse of the poem "The Comedian" was
movingly pithy in expression and feeling.
After the reading, the president of the club, the gifted Dr. Bryller,
thanked the poet, whom he called a budding genius. One of the few
whom he personally knew. In spite of the ban against young girls,
Ilka Leipke had somehow managed to gain entrance. Mechenmal, who had
at first said that he would not come, also appeared. At the break,
however, he said that he was hungry, that he was going, and hadn't
she had enough of the nonsense. If she did not want to come with him
she could stay. She seemed suddenly interested in Kohn's hunch-back.
He wished her much luck, asked if he should play the pimp, and left.
Ilka Leipke cried a bit, and remained until the very end. She
applauded enthusiastically. On this evening she loved Kohn. In a
strange mood she took him to her place.
Towards morning a small, hunch-backed gentleman skipped like a ballet
dancer along grey, uncertain streets...
Kuno Kohn from now on avoided meetings with Mechenmal. He no longer
invited him. He bought newspapers in another kiosk. That suited
Mechenmal just fine. His beloved had told him, with a provocative
smile, that she had spent a lovely night in her bedroom with the
hunch-back.
The hump had not been unpleasant for her; it was not as big and
hateful as it seemed to a superficial observer. One could easily
become accustomed to the hump.
Mechenmal was furious at Kohn. He was gentler and more indulgent
towards Ilka Leipke. He did not show her his jealousy, and never
mentioned the rival's name. Ilka Leipke was happy. She no longer
thought of the drunken night with Kohn. Kohn was now no less
repugnant to her now than he had been before; she rejected further
attempts by the poet. She acted towards Mechenmal as though she were
still very much in love with Kohn. Once, however, she could not
repress making an unseemly joke about Kohn and his hump. Mechenmal
laughed heartily.
Sadly, Kohn went to the shore. A publisher had made an unexpected,
favorable offer, and paid an advance. Mechenmal happened to find a
poem that Kohn sent from the shore to Ilka Leipke. He read: