"No, Clara hasn't come back. Someone else has already moved into her house."

Peter says, "There were thirty thousand deaths in the capital. They even fired on a march where there were women and children. If Clara participated in anything…"

"She certainly participated in everything that was going on in the capital. I think she has rejoined Thomas, and that is for the best. She never stopped talking about Thomas. She thought only of Thomas, loved only Thomas, was ill because of Thomas. One way or another she would have died for Thomas."

After a silence, Peter says, "Many people crossed the border during the troubled period when it was left unguarded. Why didn't you take advantage of it to rejoin your brother?"

"I didn't consider it for a moment. How could I leave the child all on his own?"

"You could have taken him with you."

"You don't set off on an adventure like that with a child his age.

"You can set off anywhere, anytime, with whoever you want, if you want to badly enough. The child is just an excuse."

Lucas lowers his head. "The child has to stay here. He's waiting for his mother to come back. He wouldn't have come with me."

Peter doesn't answer. Lucas raises his head and looks at him. "You're right. I don't want to go find Claus. It's up to him to come back. He's the one who went away."

Peter says, "Someone who doesn't exist can't come back."

"Claus exists and he will come back!"

Peter goes up to Lucas and grabs him by the shoulder. "Calm down. You have to face facts. Neither your brother nor the child's mother will ever come back, and you know it."

Lucas mumbles, "Claus will."

He falls forward off his chair, he hits his head on the edge of the low table; he slumps onto the carpet. Peter pulls him onto the sofa, he wets a cloth and wipes Lucas's face, which is bathed in sweat. When Lucas comes to, Peter gives him a drink and lights him a cigarette.

"I'm sorry, Lucas. We won't talk about this again."

Lucas asks, "What were we talking about?"

"What about?" Peter lights another cigarette. "About politics, of course."

Lucas laughs. "It must have been pretty boring for me to fall asleep on your sofa."

"Yes, that's right, Lucas. You've always found politics boring, haven't you?"

The child is six and a half. On the first day of school Lucas wants to accompany him, but the child prefers to go on his own. When he comes home at noon, Lucas asks him whether everything went all right. The child says that everything went all right.

In the days that follow the child says that everything is going well at school. But one day he returns with a wound on his cheek. He says that he fell. Another day his right hand bears some red marks. The next day the nails on this hand all turn black, with the exception of the thumbnail. The child says that he jammed his fingers in a door. For weeks afterward, he has to write with his left hand.

One evening the child comes home with his mouth all split and swollen. He is unable to eat. Lucas doesn't ask questions, he pours some milk into the child's mouth, then places a sock filled with sand, a pointed stone, and a razor on the table. He says, "These were our weapons when we had to defend ourselves against the other children. Take them. Defend yourself!"

The child says, "There were two of you. I'm on my own."

"Even on your own you have to learn how to defend yourself."

The child looks at the objects on the table. "I can't. I could never hit anyone, hurt anyone."

"Why not? They hit you and hurt you."

The child looks Lucas in the eyes.

"Physical wounds don't matter when I receive them. But if I had to inflict them on someone else, that would wound me in a way I couldn't bear."

Lucas asks, "Do you want me to talk to your teacher?"

The child says, "Definitely not! I forbid it! Don't ever do that, Lucas! Have I complained? Have I asked for your help? Your weapons?"

He sweeps the defensive tools off the table. "I'm stronger than all of them, braver, and above all, more intelligent. That's all that matters."

Lucas throws the stone and the sock full of sand into the garbage. He closes the razor, puts it in his pocket. "I still carry it on me, but I don't use it anymore."

When the child has gone to bed, Lucas goes into his room and sits down on the edge of his bed. "I won't meddle in your affairs any more, Mathias. I won't ask any more questions. When you want to leave school, just tell me."

The child says, "I'll never leave school."

Lucas asks, "Tell me, Mathias, do you cry sometimes when you're alone?"

The child says, "I'm used to being alone. I never cry, you know that."

"Yes, I know. But you never laugh either. When you were small you laughed all the time."

"That must have been before Yasmine died."

"What are you saying, Mathias? Yasmine isn't dead."

"She is dead. I've known for a long time. Otherwise she would have come back."

After a silence, Lucas says, "Even after Yasmine left, you still laughed, Mathias."

The child looks at the ceiling. "Yes, maybe. Before we left Grandmother's house. We should never have left Grandmother's house."

Lucas takes the child's face in his hands. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps we shouldn't have left Grandmother's house."

The child closes his eyes. Lucas kisses him on the forehead. "Sleep well, Mathias. When you feel too much pain, too much sorrow, and you don't want to talk to anyone, write it down. It will help you."

The child answers, "I've already written it down. I've written down everything. Everything that has happened since we've been here. My nightmares, the school, everything. I've got a big notebook like you. You've got lots, I've only got one, only a slim one so far. I'll never let you read it. You forbade me to read yours, I forbid you to read mine."

6

At ten o'clock in the morning an old bearded man comes into the bookshop. Lucas has seen him before. He is one of his best customers. Lucas gets up and asks with a smile, "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I have everything I need, thank you. I came to talk to you about Mathias. I'm his teacher. I have written to you on numerous occasions to ask you to come and see me."

Lucas says, "I never received your letters."

"Yet you've signed them."

The teacher takes three envelopes from his pocket and hands them to Lucas. "Isn't that your signature?"

Lucas examines the letters. "Yes and no. It's a good forgery of my signature."

The teacher smiles as he takes back the letters. "That's the conclusion I came to also. Mathias doesn't want me to speak with you. I decided to come and see you during school hours. I left an older pupil in charge of the class during my absence. This visit can remain our secret, if you wish."

Lucas says, "Yes, I think that would be best. Mathias has forbidden me to talk to you."

"He's very proud, arrogant even. He is also by far the most intelligent pupil in the class. Nevertheless, the only advice I can offer you is to withdraw him from school. I can sign the necessary papers."

Lucas says, "Mathias doesn't want to leave school."

"If only you knew what he goes through! The cruelty of the other children is beyond belief. The girls make fun of him. They call him 'spider,' 'hunchback,' 'bastard.' He sits on his own in the front row, no one wants to sit next to him. The boys hit him, kick him, punch him. The boy behind him slammed the desk shut on his fingers. I have intervened many times, but that just aggravates the situation. The other children can't stand the fact that Mathias knows everything, that he's best at everything. They are jealous of him and they are making his life unbearable."

Lucas says, "I know it, even though he never talks to me."