The officer asks some questions; the orderly translates:

"The officer ask why you not move, why not speak."

We answer:

"We were doing our immobility exercise."

The orderly translates again:

"The officer say you do many exercises. Also other kinds. He have seen you hit each other with belt."

"That was our toughening exercise."

"The officer ask why you do all that."

"To get used to pain."

"He ask you have pleasure in pain."

"No. We only want to overcome pain, heat, cold, hunger, whatever causes pain."

"The officer admiration for you. He think you extraordinary."

The officer adds a few words. The orderly says:

"Good, finished. I must go now. You too, scram, go fishing."

But the officer holds us by the arm, smiling, and makes a sign for the orderly to go. The orderly takes a few steps, then turns back:

"You leave! Quick! Go for walk in town."

The officer looks at him, and the orderly walks on to the garden gate, where he shouts to us again:

"Beat it, you two! No stay! Not understand, fools?"

He goes off. The officer smiles at us and takes us into his room. He sits down on a chair, draws us to him, picks us up, and sits us on his knees. We put our arms around his neck, we press ourselves against his hairy chest. He rocks us to and fro.

Beneath us, between the officer's legs, we feel a warm movement. We look at one another, then we look the officer in the eyes. He gently pushes us away, he ruffles our hair, he stands up. He hands us two whips and lies face down on his belly. He says only one word, which, without knowing his language, we understand.

We hit. First one, then the other.

The officer's back is scored with red lines. We hit harder and harder. The officer moans and, without changing position, pulls his trousers and shorts down to his ankles. We hit his white buttocks, his thighs, his legs, his back, his neck, his shoulders, as hard as we can, and everything gets red.

The officer's body, hair, clothes, the sheets, the rug, our hands, our arms are red. The blood even spurts into our eyes, mingles with our sweat, and we go on hitting until the man utters a final, inhuman cry and we drop, exhausted, at the foot of his bed.

The Foreign Language

The officer brings us a dictionary in which we can learn his language. We learn the words; the orderly corrects our pronunciation. A few weeks later, we speak this new language fluently. We continue to make progress. The orderly no longer has to translate. The officer is very pleased with us. He gives us a harmonica. He also gives us a key to his room so we can get in when we want to (as we were already doing with our key, but secretly). Now we no longer need to hide, and we can do whatever we like there: eat biscuits and chocolate, smoke cigarettes.

We often go into that room, because everything is clean there and it's more peaceful than the kitchen. That's where we usually do our studying.

The officer has a gramophone and records. Lying on the bed, we listen to music. Once, to please the officer, we play his country's national anthem. But he gets angry and smashes the record with his fist.

Sometimes we sleep on the bed, which is very wide. One morning, the orderly finds us there; he isn't happy:

"You very foolish! You no more do silly thing like that. What happen one time if the officer come back at night?"

"What could happen? There's enough room for him too."

The orderly says:

"You very stupid. One time you pay for stupidity. If the officer hurt you, I kill him."

"He won't hurt us. Don't worry about us."

One night, the officer comes home and finds us asleep on his bed. The light from the oil lamp wakes us. We ask:

"Do you want us to go to the kitchen?"

The officer strokes our heads and says:

"Stay there. Do stay."

He undresses and lies.down between us. He puts his arms around us, he whispers in our ears:

"Sleep. I love you. Sleep in peace."

We go back to sleep. Later, near morning, we want to get up, but the officer holds us back:

"Don't move. Keep sleeping."

"We want to urinate. We have to go."

"Don't go. Do it here."

We ask:

"Where?"

He says:

"On me. Yes. Don't be afraid. Piss! On my face."

We do it, then we go out into the garden, because the bed is all wet. The sun is already rising; we start our morning chores.

The Officer's Friend

Sometimes the officer comes back with a friend, another, younger officer. They spend the evening together, and the friend stays over. We have observed them several times through the hole in the ceiling.

It's a summer's evening. The orderly is making something on the camp stove. He puts a cloth on the table, and we arrange flowers on it. The officer and his friend are sitting at the table; they are drinking. Later, they eat. The orderly eats near the door, sitting on a stool. Then they drink again. Meanwhile, we take care of the music. We change the records and wind up the gramophone.

The officer's friend says:

"These kids annoy me. Send them out."

The officer asks:

"Jealous?"

The friend answers:

"Of them? Don't be absurd! Two little savages."

"They're handsome, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. I haven't looked at them."

"Really, you haven't looked at them. Then look at them."

The friend blushes:

"What do you mean? They annoy me with their sneaky ways. As if they were listening to us, spying on us."

"But they are listening to us. They speak our language perfectly. They understand everything."

The friend goes pale and gets up:

"This is too much! I'm leaving!"

The officer says:

"Don't be a fool. Off you go, kids."

We leave the room and go up to the attic. We look and listen.

The officer's friend says:

"You made me look ridiculous in front of those stupid kids."

The officer says:

"Those are the two most intelligent children I have ever met."

The friend says:

"You're just saying that to hurt me, to make me suffer. You'll do anything to torment and humiliate me. One day I'll kill you!"

The officer throws his revolver on the table:

"If only you would! Take it. Kill me! Go on!"

The friend picks up the revolver and points it at the officer:

"I will. You'll see, I will. The next time you mention him, the other one, I'll kill you."

The officer closes his eyes, smiles:

"He was handsome… young… strong… graceful… delicate… cultivated… tender… dreamy… brave… arrogant… I loved him. He died on the Eastern front. He was nineteen. I can't live without him."

The friend throws the revolver on the table and says:

"Swine!"

The officer opens his eyes, looks at his friend:

"What lack of courage! What lack of character!"

The friend says:

"Then do it yourself if you have so much courage, and so much grief. If you can't live without him, follow him into death. Or do you need me to help you? I'm not crazy! Die! Die alone!"

The officer picks up the revolver and puts it to his temple. We come down from the attic. The orderly is sitting in front of the open door of the room. We ask him:

"Do you think he's going to kill himself?"

The orderly laughs:

"You not fear. They always do that when drink too much. I unload two revolvers before."

We go into the room and say to the officer:

"We'll kill you if you really want us to. Give us your revolver."

The friend says:

"Little bastards!"

The officer smiles and says:

"Thank you. That's very kind of you, but we were only playing. Go to bed now."

He gets up to shut the door behind us and sees the orderly:

"Are you still there?"