DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27180#0187
ASSUAN
as to the sinister relations between them; I was convinced
that the opposite was true, and the event showed I was
right.
But the improbable had happened, for yesterday morning
they actually landed the crocodile. It was not two yards long,
to be sure: not much more than half that length, and quite a
young beast. Still it was a crocodile right enough. We have
seen and smelt it. Already it stank like the plague. The
doctor had it stuffed and took it home with him; he even
sacrificed to it the promised bottle of champagne. Then his
uncommonly sympathetic views on German politics made
their appearance into the bargain; he too will have none of
Rathenau and gives Ebert a minor place. His optical
delusion remains unexplained. He had plenty of time to
make sure of the beast’s length, and besides there was the
rock it lay on for him to measure by. He swore it was a good
two yards, called the Jger a swindler, and declared that this
journey that ended in the hunting-party was the last he’d
ever undertake. One should never have doubts about human
nature.
But the story has a sequel. . . . We were sitting in the
hall. The Schachts were there too, Frau Schacht in white
with an oriental shawl. There are heaps and heaps of pretty
women here.
‘Do you believe, my dear sir,’ said Dr. Beermann,
turning to Dr. Schacht, ‘that there are any crocodiles at
Assuan?’
Schacht thought not. Not one had been this side of the
cataract for thirty years.
‘But what about the other side?’
Schacht said yes. At times they even came quite near
the dam.
‘Then how do you account for my crocodile on this side?’
‘It must have got through the sluice by accident.’
‘But isn’t that very unlikely, sir?’
167
as to the sinister relations between them; I was convinced
that the opposite was true, and the event showed I was
right.
But the improbable had happened, for yesterday morning
they actually landed the crocodile. It was not two yards long,
to be sure: not much more than half that length, and quite a
young beast. Still it was a crocodile right enough. We have
seen and smelt it. Already it stank like the plague. The
doctor had it stuffed and took it home with him; he even
sacrificed to it the promised bottle of champagne. Then his
uncommonly sympathetic views on German politics made
their appearance into the bargain; he too will have none of
Rathenau and gives Ebert a minor place. His optical
delusion remains unexplained. He had plenty of time to
make sure of the beast’s length, and besides there was the
rock it lay on for him to measure by. He swore it was a good
two yards, called the Jger a swindler, and declared that this
journey that ended in the hunting-party was the last he’d
ever undertake. One should never have doubts about human
nature.
But the story has a sequel. . . . We were sitting in the
hall. The Schachts were there too, Frau Schacht in white
with an oriental shawl. There are heaps and heaps of pretty
women here.
‘Do you believe, my dear sir,’ said Dr. Beermann,
turning to Dr. Schacht, ‘that there are any crocodiles at
Assuan?’
Schacht thought not. Not one had been this side of the
cataract for thirty years.
‘But what about the other side?’
Schacht said yes. At times they even came quite near
the dam.
‘Then how do you account for my crocodile on this side?’
‘It must have got through the sluice by accident.’
‘But isn’t that very unlikely, sir?’
167