The Hell with “say thank you.”

Like a ghost it reared up. It had no substance. Only bones. Always this lie “say thank you.” It makes everyone ill at ease.

“Hush now!” said Mr. Peter to himself, “better keep your mouth shut!”

To Rosita he said: “Whisper it quietly into his ear.”

“Grandpa, I have to whisper something in your ear.”

The old man heard nothing but “ps ps ps ps ps—.”

He was all embarrassed. On top of which it tickled him. Not a single word of thanks.

The mother said: “That’s a fancy little miss. I don’t know what’s to become of her. Always taking and taking and taking. Who’s going to tolerate that?!”

“The old man and the poet!” replied Mr. Peter and pressed the dear little one softly against himself. Then he said, hard and outright aggressively: “The rich ones! Those who no longer need to beg on the road of life, the full ones who have stored up the warmth and can radiate it like the sun, those with independent souls who no longer need to whine for love like little children whining for milk and quiet, the grownup rich ones able to do without pitiful taking, the kings, yes, the kings who live on giving! You see, we’re crab-red with love!”

The young woman thought: “You’ve got to be old or mad. But we stayed too young. Is it any fault of ours? We still soak up the juices like a sapling. We rob nature just to exist. Oh and by the way, the earth still has a molten middle, and its chimneys sometimes spew forth and bury places blossoming with life. Isn’t that so? Bane of my existence, fire of my soul, Edgar, my beloved, you keep me young, don’t let me grow old!”

Everyone sat in silence.

“Rosie, don’t be rude. You’re going to get too heavy for Mr. Peter. Better go to bed. I’d say you’ve had yourself a lovely day.”

“Where were you today?!” asked Mr. Peter.

“I was at a theater!”

“Where were you?!” he said, because he wanted to hear it a hundred thousand times.

“At a theater!”

“Good night, my dear life,” said the crab-red man with the white hair and got all ga ga.

Rosie undressed with the door wide open, stood there all naked, pulled on her nightgown, lay down in her little bed and immediately fell fast asleep.

Everybody sat there in silence. The arms of the young woman hung limp at her sides.

Peter A. felt: “Life, I bow to you! Endowed with two eyes, two ears, Emperor that I am!”

The old man sat there crab-red. He said: “No, anybody who didn’t see that child today—”

The lady felt: “Bane of my existence, Edgar! Rosita should have been your child! Yours, do you understand?! Yours and mine!”

She said: “What would become of Rosita in your company, the both of you?! It’s a good thing we’re going away soon. All these changes. Passing her from hand to hand. It’s no good for children. Debauchery.”

The two old men were embarrassed like schoolboys.

Mr. Peter eyed the young woman: “Restless one! What are you missing? Always stern and measured in your manner.