safer. He whistled with the thought that Kohn could no longer bother
him. That he, Max Mechenmal, had overcome the difficulty with Kohn
so completely. He thought that he tackled life correctly. That
everything went well for him. He had great trust in himself. He
thought: No sentimentality now. To lead a decent life, one must be a
bastard.

He went home happily.



The Café Klösschen


Lisel Liblichlein had come from the country to the city because she
wanted to become an actress. At home she found everything stuffy,
narrow, stultifying. The gentlemen were stupid. The sky, the kisses,
the girl friends, the Sunday afternoons became unbearable. The most
she could do was cry. To her, becoming an actress would mean: to be
clever, free, and happy. What that meant, she did not know. She had
no way to determine whether she had talent.

She adored her cousin Schulz, because he lived in the city and wrote
poems. When the cousin wrote once that he was tired of law and would
live in accordance with his inclination to be a writer, she informed
her shocked parents that she was fed up with the restricted life; she
would pursue her ideals as an actress. They tried in every way to
dissuade her from this plan, to no avail. She became more determined,
and even made threats. They yielded reluctantly, went with her to
the city, rented a small room in a large pension, enrolled her in an