I am an employee of a bank. Because I have no patron, and I am not
especially hard-working, I am not getting ahead. For more than 30
years I have been shifting the same kind of papers around in the same
department. For this reason I am considered conscientious.
For the last six months I have had a new assistant. His name is
Leopold Lehmann. He knows everything better than I. He is the nephew
of the deputy director. He calls himself a trainee. He likes to
hear himself talk. Most of all he likes to talk about himself. As a
result, I know the story of his life.
Leopold Lehmann, as he emphasizes, was drawn in a clumsy manner from
the womb with a forceps. His head is misshapen, like a noodle. His
nose also. He has gone through the usual illnesses. He enjoys a
complicated form of syphillis. It has eaten holes the size of fists
in Lehmann's body.
Leopold Lehmann wishes to give up his duties in the bank, to study
theology. I believe that he has already given notice.
Lehmann associates exclusively with theologians and with me. And
with the deputy director.
He has sclerosis of the spinal cord.