Hans Castorp arrived for a stay of a few days, which became months and then years. Whenever it looked like he might leave, Dr. Behrens detected a slight problem in his lung and he had to extend his stay. Dita had been in Terezín for a year when she started to read the book, and at that stage she had no idea when she would be able to leave that city-prison. Given the rumors about the world beyond those walls—the Nazis relentlessly advancing through a war-torn Europe with millions already dead and camps where Jews were being sent for extermination—it occurred to her that the walls might be imprisoning her, but they were also protecting her. Much the same could be said of Hans and the Berghof sanatorium he no longer wanted to leave to face his world.
She exchanged her labor in Terezín’s perimeter gardens for more comfortable duties in a military garment workshop and, as time passed, while her mother lost energy and her father made ever fewer witty observations, Dita kept reading. The story of Hans fascinated her, and she kept him company until he reached the critical moment of his life. It was carnival night and, taking advantage of the freedom provided by the masks they were all wearing, he dared to speak for the first time to Mme. Chauchat, a very beautiful Russian woman with whom he was hopelessly in love, despite the fact that they had never exchanged more than a few exquisitely polite words of greeting. In the stiflingly ceremonious atmosphere of the Berghof, protected by carnival dispensation, he had dared to address her informally and call her Clawdia. Dita closes her eyes and relives that moment when he prostrates himself so romantically before Clawdia and, in a gallant and impassioned manner, declares his rash love.
Dita likes the incredibly elegant Mme. Chauchat, with her almond eyes, who is usually the last to enter the regal dining room and shuts the door loudly enough to make Hans jump in his seat. The first few times, it irritates him, but then he is swept up by her Tartar beauty. In that moment of freedom offered by carnival, when those speaking are not people trapped within the strict rules of social etiquette but masks, Mme. Chauchat says to Hans, “All Europe knows that you Germans love order more than freedom.”
And Dita, tucked up in her hidey-hole of wooden boards, nods in agreement.
Mme. Chauchat is so right.
Dita thinks she’d like to be Mme. Chauchat, such a cultured, refined, and independent woman: When she entered a room, all the boys would steal a look at her. After the undoubtedly daring but charming compliments of the young German, which the Russian lady finds not the least bit offensive, something completely unexpected happens. Mme. Chauchat opts for a change of environment and leaves for Daghestan, or maybe Spain.
If Dita had been Mme. Chauchat, she would have been unable to resist the charm and graciousness of a gentleman like Hans. It’s not that she lacks the bravery to roam the world, because when this nightmare war is over, she’d like to go anywhere with her family. Maybe even to that land of Palestine Fredy Hirsch talks about so much.
Just then, she hears the sound of the hut door opening. When she carefully peers out, she sees the same tall figure in boots and a dark cape that she saw the first time. Her heart jumps in her chest.
The much anticipated moment of truth has arrived. But does she really want to confront it? Each time the truth is revealed, something falls apart. She sighs and thinks it would be best if she left the hut; she is racked with uncertainty. But she needs to know the truth.
Dita had once read a piece about spies in one of the magazines her parents kept on the coffee table in the living room. The article suggested you could hear conversations through walls by putting your ear up to the bottom of a glass placed against the wall. She tiptoes up to the wall of the Block?ltester’s cubicle, breakfast bowl in hand. It’s risky. If they catch her spying, who knows what will happen to her.
As she places the metal container against the wall, she realizes she can hear perfectly well just by putting her ear to the wooden divider. There’s even a small hole in the panel through which she can see inside.
She spies Hirsch, with a dark expression on his face. She can see only the back of the blond man facing him. He’s not wearing an SS uniform, but he’s not wearing regular prison garb, either. Then she spots the brown armband worn by barrack Kapos.
“This will be the last time, Ludwig.”
“Why?”
“I can’t go on deceiving my people.” Fredy slicks back his hair with one hand. “They believe I’m one thing, when in reality, I’m something quite different.”
“And what is that terrible other thing you are?”
Fredy smiles bitterly.
“You already know that. Better than anyone.”
“Come on, Fredy, dare to name it.…”
“There’s nothing more to say.”
“Why not?” The words of his interlocutor are loaded with irony and resentment. “The fearless man doesn’t dare admit what he is? Do you lack the courage to say the terrible thing that you are?”
The Block?ltester sighs and his voice drops:
“A … homosexual.”
“Dammit, call it what it is! The great Fredy Hirsch is a queer!”
Hirsch, beside himself, launches himself at the man and grabs him violently by his lapels. He smashes him up against the wall, and the veins stand out in his neck.
“Shut up! Never ever say that again.”
“Come on! Is it so horrible? I’m one, too, and I don’t consider myself a monster. Do you think I am? Do you think I deserve to be branded a pariah?” And, as he speaks, he points to the pink triangle sewn onto his shirt.
Hirsch releases him. He closes his eyes and slicks back his hair as he tries to compose himself.
“Forgive me, Ludwig. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Well, you have.” Ludwig fixes his crumpled lapel with the fastidiousness of a dandy. “You say you don’t want to deceive the people who follow you. So what will you do when you get out of here? Find a nice Jewish girl who’ll cook you kosher meals and marry her? Will you deceive her?”
“I don’t want to deceive anyone, Ludwig. That’s why we have to stop seeing each other.”
“Do whatever you like. Repress your feelings if that makes you feel better. Try making love to some girl. I’ve tried it: It’s like eating a tasteless bowl of soup. But it’s not totally bad. And do you think that the deceptions will be over? Absolutely not! There’ll still be someone you’ll be lying to: yourself.”
“I’ve already told you it’s over, Ludwig.”
His words leave no room for a response. They look at each sadly without saying a word. The Kapo with the pink triangle slowly nods his assent, accepting defeat. He walks up to Hirsch and kisses him on the lips. A silent tear runs down Ludwig’s cheek.
On the other side of the wooden wall, Dita almost cries out. It’s more than she can bear. She’s never seen two men kiss, and she finds it disgusting. Even more so because it’s Fredy Hirsch. Her Fredy Hirsch. She runs silently out of the hut, not even noticing the shock of the cold night air. She’s so upset she doesn’t think to look out for Dr. Mengele. She’s stunned on the outside and feels dirty on the inside. She feels an incredible anger toward Fredy Hirsch; she feels defrauded. Tears of rage cloud her sight.
That’s why she bumps into someone walking in the opposite direction.
“Careful, young lady!”
“You’re the one who’s not looking where you’re going, dammit!” she replies.
But as she looks up, she sees the face of Professor Morgenstern, and realizes she’s been rude. She’s almost knocked the poor old man to the ground.