generosity. She managed to make Irma a bit ashamed of her lack of appreciation of a sweet and
gentle Jewish clarinetist.
Meanwhile Lanny was speeding over a fine highway, due eastward toward the river Rhein. It
was in part the route over which the fleeing king and queen had driven in their heavy "berlin";
not far to the south lay Varennes, where they had been captured and driven back to Paris to
have their heads cut off. Human beings suffer agonies, and their sad fates become legends; poets
write verses about them and playwrights compose dramas, and the remembrance of past grief
becomes a source of present pleasure—such is the strange alchemy of the spirit.
The traveler had supper on the way, and reached his destination after midnight. There was
no use looking at an empty bridge, and he wasn't in the mood for cathedrals, even one of the
oldest. He went to bed and slept; in the morning he had a breakfast with fruit, and a telegram
from Jerry saying that they were at Besancon and coming straight on. No use going to the place
of appointment ahead of time, so Lanny read the morning papers in this town which had changed
hands many times, but for the present was French. He read that Adolf Hitler had called an
assembly of his tame Reichstag in the Kroll Opera House, and had made them a speech of an
hour and a half, telling how he had suffered in soul over having to kill so many of his old friends
and supporters. When he was through, he sat with head bowed, completely overcome, while
Göring told the world how Hitler was the ordained Führer who was incapable of making a
mistake; to all of which they voted their unanimous assent.
With thoughts induced by this reading Lanny drove three or four miles to the Pont de Kehl,
parked his car, and walked halfway across. He was ahead of time, and standing by the railings
he gazed up and down that grand old river. No use getting himself into a state of excitement over
his own mission; if it was going to succeed it would succeed, and if it didn't, he would go to the
nearest telephone and get hold of the Oberleutnant and ask why. No use tormenting himself
with fears about what he was going to see; whatever Freddi was would still be Freddi, and they
would patch it up and make the best of it.
Meantime, look down into the depths of that fast-sliding water and remember, here was
where the Rheinmaidens had swum and teased the dwarf Alberich. Perhaps they were still
swimming; the motif of the Rheingold rang clear as a trumpet call in Lanny's ears. Somewhere on
the heights along this stream the Lorelei had sat and combed her golden hair with a golden
comb, and sung a song that had a wonderfully powerful melody, so that the boatman in the
little boat had been seized with a wild woe, and didn't see the rocky reef, but kept gazing up to the
heights, and so in the end the waves had swallowed boatman and boat; and that with her
singing the Lorelei had done. Another of those tragic events which the alchemy of the spirit had
turned into pleasure!
Every minute or two Lanny would look at his watch. They might be early; but no, that would
be as bad as being late. "Punktlich!" was the German word, and it was their pride. Just as the
minute hand of Lanny's watch was in the act of passing the topmost mark of the dial, a large
official car would approach the center line of the bridge, where a bar was stretched across, the
east side of the bar being German and the west side French. If it didn't happen exactly so, it
would be the watch that was wrong, and not deutsche Zucht und Ordnung. As a boy Lanny had
heard a story from old Mr. Hackabury, the soapman, about a farmer who had ordered a new
watch by mail-order catalogue, and had gone out in his field with watch and almanac,
announcing: "If that sun don't get up over that hill in three minutes, she's late!"
XI
Sure enough, here came the car! A Mercedes-Benz, with a little swastika flag over the
radiator-cap, and a chauffeur in S.S. uniform, including steel helmet. They came right up to
the barrier and stopped, while Lanny stood on the last foot of France, with his heart in his
mouth. Two S.S. men in the back seat got out and began helping a passenger, and Lanny got
one glimpse after another; the glimpses added up to a gray-haired, elderly man, feeble and
bowed, with hands that were deformed into claws, and that trembled and shook as if each of
them separately had gone mad. Apparently he couldn't walk, for they were half-carrying him,
and it wasn't certain that he could hold his head up—at any rate, it was hanging.
"Heil Hitler!" said one of the men, saluting. "Herr Budd?"
"Ja," said Lanny, in a voice that wasn't quite steady.
"Wohin mit ihm?" It was a problem, for you couldn't take such a package and just walk off
with it. Lanny had to ask the indulgence of the French police and customs men, who let the
unfortunate victim be carried into their office and laid on a seat. He couldn't sit up, and
winced when he was touched. "They have kicked my kidneys loose," he murmured, without
opening his eyes. Lanny ran and got his car, and the Frenchmen held up the traffic while he
turned it around on the bridge. They helped to carry the sufferer and lay him on the back seat.
Then, slowly, Lanny drove to the Hotel de la Ville-de-Paris, where they brought a stretcher
and carried Freddi Robin to a room and laid him on a bed.
Apparently he hadn't wanted to be freed; or perhaps he didn't realize that he was free;
perhaps he didn't recognize his old friend.
He didn't seem to want to talk, or even to look about him. Lanny waited until they were
alone, and then started the kind of mental cure which he had seen his mother practice on the
broken and burned Marcel Detaze. "You're in France, Freddi, and now everything is going to
be all right."
The poor fellow's voice behaved as if it was difficult for him to frame sounds into words. "You
should have sent me poison!" That was all he could think of.
"We're going to take you to a good hospital and have you fixed up in no time." A cheerful
"spiel," practiced for several days.
Freddi held up his trembling claws; they waved in the air, seemingly of their own
independent will. "They broke them with an iron bar," he whispered; "one by one."
"Rahel is coming, Freddi. She will be here in a few hours."
"No, no, no!" They were the loudest sounds he could make. "She must not see me." He kept
that up for some time, as long as his strength lasted. He was not fit to see anybody. He wanted
to go to sleep and not wake up. "Some powders!" he kept whispering.
Lanny saw that the sick man was weakening himself by trying to argue, so he said, all right. He
had already called for a doctor, and when the man came he whispered the story. Here on the
border they knew a great deal about the Nazis, and the doctor needed no details. He gave a
sleeping powder which quieted the patient for a while. The doctor wanted to examine him, but
Lanny said no, he would wait until the patient's wife had arrived to take charge. Lanny didn't
reveal that he had in mind to get an ambulance and take the victim to Paris; he could see that
here was a case that called for a lot of work and he wanted it done by people whom he knew and
trusted. He was sure that Rahel would agree with this.
XII
A moment not soon to be forgotten when the two travelers arrived, and Freddi's wife came
running into the hotel suite, an agony of suspense in her whole aspect; her face, gestures, voice.
"He's here? He's alive? He's ill? Oh, God, where is he?"
"In the next room," replied Lanny. "He's asleep, and we'd better not disturb him."
"How is he?"
"He needs to be gone over by a good surgeon and patched up; but we can have it done. Keep
yourself together, and don't let him see that you're afraid or shocked."
She had to set her eyes upon him right away; she had to steal into the room, and make it real to
herself that after so many long months he was actually here, in France, not Germany. Lanny
warned her: "Be quiet, don't lose your nerve." He went with her, and Jerry on the other
side, for fear she might faint. And she nearly did so; she stood for a long while, breathing hard,
staring at that grayhaired, elderly man, who, a little more than a year ago, had been young,
beautiful and happy. They felt her shuddering, and when she started to sob, they led her out
and softly closed the door.
To Lanny it was like living over something a second time, as happens in a dream. "Listen,
Rahel," he said: "You have to do just what my mother did with Marcel. You have to make him
want to live again. You have to give him hope and courage. You must never let him see the least
trace of fear or suffering on your face. You must be calm and assured, and just keep telling him
that you love him, and that he is going to get well."
"Does he know what you say to him?"
"I think he only half realizes where he is; and perhaps it's better so. Don't force anything on
him. Just whisper love, and tell him he is needed, and must live for your sake and the child's."
The young wife sat there with her whole soul in her eyes. She had always been a serious,
intellectual woman, but having her share of vigor and blooming. Now she was pale and thin; she
had forgotten to eat most of the time; she had dined on grief and supped on fear. It was clear
that she wanted only one thing in the world, to take this adored man and devote her life to
nursing him and restoring him to health. She wouldn't rebel against her fate, as Beauty Budd, the
worldling, had done; she wouldn't have to beat and drive herself to the role of Sister of Mercy. Nor
would she have herself painted in that role, and exhibit herself to smart crowds; no, she
would just go wherever Freddi went, try to find out what Freddi needed and give it to him,
with that consecrated love which the saints feel for the Godhead.
Lanny told her what he had in mind. They would take him in an ambulance, to Paris, quickly
but carefully, so as not to jar him. Rahel could ride with him, and talk to him, feed him doses
of courage and hope, even more necessary than physical food. Jerry and Lanny would follow,
each in his own car; Jerry would stay in Paris for a while, to help her in whatever way he
could. Lanny would instruct the surgeon to do everything needed, and would pay the bill. He told
Jerry to go and get some sleep—his aspect showed that he needed it, for he had driven five or six
hundred miles with only a few minutes' respite at intervals.
XIII
Lanny had food and wine and milk brought to the room, and persuaded Rahel to take some;
she would need her strength. She should give Freddi whatever he would take—he probably had
had no decent food for more than a year. Preparing her for her long ordeal, he told more of the
story of Marcel, the miracle which had been wrought by love and unfailing devotion. Lanny talked
as if he were Parsifal Dingle; incidentally he said: "Parsifal will come to Paris and help you, if
you wish." Rahel sat weeping softly. With half her mind she took in Lanny's words, while the
other half was with the broken body and soul in the next room.
Presently they heard him moaning. She dried her eyes hastily, and said. "I can never thank
you. I will do my best to save Freddi so that he can thank you."
She stole into the other room, and Lanny sat alone for a long while. Tears began to steal
down his cheeks, and he leaned his arms upon the table in front of him. It was a reaction from
the strain he had been under for more than a year. Tears because he hadn't been able to
accomplish more; because what he had done might be too late. Tears not only for his wrecked
and tormented friend, not only for that unhappy family, but for all the Jews of Europe, and
for their tormentors, just as much to be pitied. Tears for the unhappy people of Germany, who
were being lured into such a deadly trap, and would pay for it with frightful sufferings. Tears
for this unhappy continent on which he had been born and had lived most of his life. He had
traveled here and there over its surface, and everywhere had seen men diligently plowing the soil
and sowing dragon's teeth—from which, as in the old legend, armed men would some day
spring. He had raised his feeble voice, warning and pleading; he had sacrificed time and
money and happiness, but all in vain. He wept, despairing, as another man of gentleness and
mercy had wept, in another time of oppression and misery, crying:
"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent
unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her
chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate."
Document Outline
DRAGON'S
TEETH
Upton Sinclair
The Viking Press New York 1942
Contents
Book One: The Morning Opes Her Golden Gates
I. THE OLD BEGINNING 3
II. THOSE FRIENDS THOU HAST 22
III. AND THEIR ADOPTION TRIED 42
IV CAN CALL SPIRITS 64
V. FROM THE VASTY DEEP 82
Book Two: A Cloud That's Dragonish
VI. DEUTSCHLAND ERWACHE! 103
VII. I HAVE SEEN TEMPESTS 126
VIII. TO GIVE AND TO SHARE 147
IX. LAND WHERE MY FATHERS DIED 167
X. CONSCIENCE DOTH MAKE COWARDS 188
Book Three: Blow, Winds, and Crack Your Cheeks
XI. 'TIS WOMAN'S WHOLE EXISTENCE 211
XII. PLEASURE AT THE HELM 234
XIII. EVEN TO THE EDGE OF DOOM 255
XIV. THE STORMY WINDS DO BLOW 276
XV. DIE STRASSE FREI 299
Book Four: As on a Darkling Plain
XVI. ROOT OF ALL EVIL 323
XVII. WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOR? 346
XVIII. I AM A JEW 369
XIX. NO PEACE IN ZION 392
XX. SUFFERANCE IS THE BADGE 415
Book Five: This Is the Way the World Ends
XXI. IN FRIENDSHIP'S NAME 441
XXII. STILL GET MONEY, BOY! 463
XXIII. ALL THE KINGDOMS OF THE WORLD 483
XXIV. DIE JUDEN SIND SCHULD 503
Book Six: Blood Hath Been Shed
XXV. GRASPING AT AIR 531
XXVI. OUT OF THIS NETTLE, DANGER 553
