Chapter 6 relation

My wife knew the mother of a girl who trimmed the minister's daughter's nails.It's toenails.Our house is buzzing and chaotic: we used to have no relationship, but now we have a relationship, a great relationship.My wife sent flowers and sweets to the girl's mother.She gratefully accepted the flowers and sweets, albeit indifferently.Since our acquaintance with this woman, we have pondered over what position we should take for me when we know the girl herself.We have not seen her so far, she rarely stays at home, and of course only socializes with government officials.She has a nice house in Bonn: two rooms with kitchen, bathroom, balcony.But in any case, it is said that we will see her soon.My mood was impatient, eager to meet her, with appropriate humility and stoicism, of course.I believe that humble stoicism is admired in government circles, and it is said that only those who are convinced of their abilities can hope to succeed.I struggled to believe in my own abilities, and I did so quickly.Anyway: be patient!

When word got out about our connections with government figures, our value rose for a moment.Not long ago, I heard a woman say to another woman on the street: "Mr. B is here. He has a relationship with A." ​​Her voice was very soft, but she deliberately let me hear it. When they are around, they send out sweet smiles.I nodded condescendingly.In the past our grocer had only grudgingly agreed to credit, with a look of disbelief on his face, watching margarine, mass bread, and tobacco disappear into my wife's shopping bag.Now when we go, he beams and recommends delicacies we've long known: butter, cheese and coffee.He'd say, "Oh, don't you want some of this fine Cheshire?" and if my wife couldn't make up her mind, he'd say, "You just have to,"—with a sneaky smile down his eyes.So my wife asked for it.However, yesterday my wife heard him whisper to another woman; "B's family is related to A."Anyway, we had bread and butter and cheese - no more popular bread - and good coffee.Meanwhile, we waited with some trepidation for the appearance of the girl who trimmed the minister's daughter's nails.It's toenails.The girl hadn't shown up yet, and the wife was uneasy, although the girl's mother comforted her and said, "Don't worry." It seems that she has developed a good impression of my wife now.But we can't wait, for we have made full use of our lately acquiesced credit.

The daughter whose toenails were trimmed by the young lady was the jewel in the minister's eye.She is studying art history and is said to be gifted.I believe.I believe in everything, but I'm still worried because the young pedicure from Bonn has never been seen.We consulted encyclopedias and all the biology textbooks at hand for the natural growth of toenails and found that they grow very slowly. From this, it cannot be just the minister's daughter. The toes of the high society are pinched one by one in her lovely hands.Eliminates the hassle of dead cells that can damage nylon stockings and long socks.

Hope she doesn't cut it.I was very worried that she might hurt the minister's daughter.Women who study art history have extremely sensitive toenails (I once courted an art history woman whom I knelt down and accidentally put my elbow on her toe without knowing how sensitive it was, It was all over, and I've since learned how sensitive art history women's toes are).I heard that the young lady was discreet, that the influence of the minister's daughter over the minister and the influence of the pedicure over the daughter (one suspects her social ambitions) was very strong - the pedicure's mother obliquely (everything obliquely) said that her daughter had once secured a young man she knew a position as a clerk for a section chief in a certain government department.The word section chief reminded me.That's fitting.

During this time the young lady's mother received flowers and sweets with equal graciousness.We willingly dedicate these gifts to socialites, but at the same time, we are afraid because our debts are mounting and people are whispering that I am A's illegitimate child. We have moved from butter and cheese to puff pastry and foie gras, and we no longer roll our own cigarettes but only smoke what we buy.At this time, we were notified: the young lady from Bonn is here!She really came!She had come in the car of the Secretary of State from whom she was said to have removed a sooty corn.Then lo and behold: there she is!

During these three days, our nerves were highly tense and restless, and now we smoked fifteen-fenny cigarettes instead of ten-fenny cigarettes, because this kind of smoke can calm our nerves better.I shave twice a day, which used to be twice a week, as the average unemployed person usually does.But I am no longer an ordinary unemployed person.We used a typewriter to type various certificates, and typed them over and over again, becoming more and more neat and precise. We wrote our autobiography, eighteen copies. Just in case, we took these to the police station for notarization.A whole stack of materials will explain my extraordinary talents and prove that I am born to be a section chief clerical material.Two days passed, Friday and Saturday, and we consumed a quarter-pound of coffee and a pack of fifty-five-fenny cigarettes each day (on credit, of course).We tried to speak in a jargon that might suit a government official.My wife said, "I'm all broken, honey." I said, "Sorry honey, gotta hang on." And we did hang on until Sunday.On Sunday afternoon the young lady invited us for coffee (in return for twelve bouquets of flowers and five boxes of sweets).Her mother assured us that I would have at least eight minutes alone with her.eight minutes.I bought twenty-four plump rosy lilacs—three every minute: fine lilacs, delicate and plump and ruddy, looking like a bunch of rococo ladies; candy and asked my friend to drive us there.We go in the car, honking like crazy, and my wife, white with excitement, keeps whispering, "I'm broke, honey, I'm broke."

The young lady was charming, athletic and generous, with the airs of a government pedicure, but also amiable, if a little cold.She sat in the middle of the table, being so well tended by her mother, and to my surprise there were seven people at the table, three young bastards and their wives, and a very decent old man who admired my bouquet. Sir - but our candy box is also really charming, gold gloss paper border, not so much the size of a candy box, but more like a charming compact, with a lovely pink pompom on the lid, this box is also Loudly praised by the old gentleman (for which I am indebted to him).During the introduction, I heard the mother say to her daughter: "Mr. and Mrs. B." After a moment's pause, the tone was emphasized: "Mr. B."——The young lady sent me a meaningful glance, nodded, smiled, I felt myself turn pale, I felt a red man, and I smiled and tolerated the presence of these three young bastards and their wives.In the process of drinking coffee, everyone seemed a little stiff. We first talked about the great progress of the chocolate industry after the currency reform. The conversation was triggered by a box of candy.This box of sweets seems to have won the old gentleman's favor.I had a vague feeling that the young lady's mother had drawn him to this party for strategic reasons.However, I think this guy does it too conspicuously, too untactfully, and the other three bastards' chocolate-filled candy boxes are not taken seriously, with sour wry smiles on their faces.The atmosphere of the party was very restrained until the young lady started smoking.She was smoking a ten-fenny cigarette, and while she was holding it she gave a few innocuous government gossip, and five of us men jumped up and lit her fire, but she only let me do it for her.Satisfied, I began to picture my office in Bonn: red leather sofa, cinnamon-coloured curtains, beautiful filing cabinets, headed by a respectable, kindly retired colonel...

Suddenly the young lady disappeared, and for a moment I did not notice her mother's sign to me to get out, until my wife gave me a push, and whispered to me, "Fool—go!" I walked out out of breath.In a fully matter-of-fact atmosphere, I talked business with the young lady.She met me in the living room, sighed, and glanced at her watch, and I realized that the eight minutes had already begun—about halfway through.For the sake of caution, I started with an "I'm sorry" and spoke a little incoherently, but she smiled, took my three pound note, and concluded: "Please don't overestimate my influence - I just Give it a try, because I'm convinced of your abilities. I'll hear back in about three months." She glanced at her watch, which signaled that I had to go.The idea of ​​kissing her hand flashed across my mind, but I gave up on it, murmured my gratitude with the utmost humility, and staggered out.three months.Also, she is beautiful.

I went back to the coffee room and saw the envious looks on the faces of the three young bastards who were barely paying attention to my candy box.A moment later there was a rapid beeping outside, and the young lady's mother announced to us that Bonn had called for her daughter to callus the minister.His golf game starts at nine, it's five, and calluses don't play well.We glanced down the street to see the Minister's car: solid, but not overly flashy.The young lady left the house with a pretty little suitcase and a briefcase.The coffee party broke up. Back home, my wife who observed the whole process carefully told me that I was the only one with "her".As for "her" person, my answer to the question is: "Pleasant, darling, very pleasing."

I didn't tell my wife to wait three months and talk to her about how to keep courting "her".I wanted to give "her" three months' salary, but my wife thought it was too tacky and objected.In the end, we agreed to send her a moped without writing the sender's name, but letting her know who sent it.It would be very cheap for her herself to be able to motorize and ride from house to house with her pretty little box.If she could cure the Minister's foot problem (the man appeared to have severely flat feet), my three-month wait might have been shortened.I can't wait three months, we're not going to be on credit for that long - I hope the moped I'm going to buy with a promissory note will be the finishing touch, and I'll be sitting on the red leather couch in a month.At the moment we're both - my wife and I - totally broke, and we sincerely regret not having eighteen pfennies, which is good for our nerves now...  

Translated by senior students Xiao Maosao's proofreading from "Ms. and All Beings", Lijiang Publishing House, first edition in 1991 ------------ ① Rococo is an artistic style prevalent in Europe in the 18th century, characterized by flashy, delicate and gorgeous. —— Annotation ②At that time, it was the time of currency depreciation, and banknotes were approximated by weight. —— Annotation