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- Колин Маккалоу
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- Стр. 452/535
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He
and
his
soul
had
survived
,
but
not
to
go
back
to
poverty
and
obscurity
.
For
Rainer
was
more
than
a
very
ambitious
man
;
he
was
also
something
of
a
genius
.
He
went
to
work
for
Grundig
,
and
studied
the
field
which
had
fascinated
him
since
he
first
got
acquainted
with
radar
:
electronics
.
Ideas
teemed
in
his
brain
,
but
he
refused
to
sell
them
to
Grundig
for
a
millionth
part
of
their
value
.
Instead
he
gauged
the
market
carefully
,
then
married
the
widow
of
a
man
who
had
managed
to
keep
a
couple
of
small
radio
factories
,
and
went
into
business
for
himself
.
That
he
was
barely
into
his
twenties
did
n't
matter
.
His
mind
was
characteristic
of
a
far
older
man
,
and
the
chaos
of
postwar
Germany
created
opportunities
for
young
men
.
Since
his
wedding
had
been
a
civil
one
,
the
Church
permitted
him
to
divorce
his
wife
;
in
1951
he
paid
Annelise
Hartheim
exactly
twice
the
current
value
of
her
first
husband
's
two
factories
,
and
did
just
that
,
divorced
her
.
However
,
he
did
n't
remarry
.
What
had
happened
to
the
boy
in
the
frozen
terror
of
Russia
did
not
produce
a
soulless
caricature
of
a
man
;
rather
it
arrested
the
growth
of
softness
and
sweetness
in
him
,
and
threw
into
high
relief
other
qualities
he
possessed
--
intelligence
,
ruthlessness
,
determination
.
A
man
who
has
nothing
to
lose
has
everything
to
gain
,
and
a
man
without
feelings
can
not
be
hurt
.
Or
so
he
told
himself
.
In
actual
fact
,
he
was
curiously
similar
to
the
man
he
had
met
in
Rome
in
1943
;
like
Ralph
de
Bricassart
he
understood
he
did
wrong
even
as
he
did
it
.
Not
that
his
awareness
of
the
evil
in
him
stopped
him
for
a
second
;
only
that
he
paid
for
his
material
advancement
in
pain
and
self-torment
.
To
many
people
it
might
not
have
seemed
worth
the
price
he
paid
,
but
to
him
it
was
worth
twice
the
suffering
.
One
day
he
was
going
to
run
Germany
and
make
it
what
he
had
dreamed
,
he
was
going
to
scotch
the
Aryan
Lutheran
ethic
,
shape
a
broader
one
.
Because
he
could
n't
promise
to
cease
sinning
he
had
been
refused
absolution
in
the
confessional
several
times
,
but
somehow
he
and
his
religion
muddled
through
in
one
piece
,
until
accumulated
money
and
power
removed
him
so
many
layers
beyond
guilt
he
could
present
himself
repentant
,
and
be
shriven
.
In
1955
,
one
of
the
richest
and
most
powerful
men
in
the
new
West
Germany
and
a
fresh
face
in
its
Bonn
parliament
,
he
went
back
to
Rome
.
To
seek
out
Cardinal
de
Bricassart
,
and
show
him
the
end
result
of
his
prayers
.
What
he
had
imagined
that
meeting
might
be
he
could
not
afterward
remember
,
for
from
beginning
to
end
of
it
he
was
conscious
of
only
one
thing
:
that
Ralph
de
Bricassart
was
disappointed
in
him
.
He
had
known
why
,
he
had
n't
needed
to
ask
.
But
he
had
n't
expected
the
Cardinal
's
parting
remark
:
"
I
had
prayed
you
would
do
better
than
I
,
for
you
were
so
young
.
No
end
is
worth
any
means
.
But
I
suppose
the
seeds
of
our
ruin
are
sown
before
our
births
.
"
Back
in
his
hotel
room
he
had
wept
,
but
calmed
after
a
while
and
thought
:
What
's
past
is
done
with
;
for
the
future
I
will
be
as
he
hoped
.
And
sometimes
he
succeeded
,
sometimes
he
failed
.
But
he
tried
.
His
friendship
with
the
men
in
the
Vatican
became
the
most
precious
earthly
thing
in
his
life
,
and
Rome
became
the
place
to
which
he
fled
when
only
their
comfort
seemed
to
stand
between
himself
and
despair
.
Comfort
.
Theirs
was
a
strange
kind
.
Not
the
laying
on
of
hands
,
or
soft
words
.
Rather
a
balm
from
the
soul
,
as
if
they
understood
his
pain
.
And
he
thought
,
as
he
walked
the
warm
Roman
night
after
depositing
Justine
in
her
pension
,
that
he
would
never
cease
to
be
grateful
to
her
.
For
as
he
had
watched
her
cope
with
the
ordeal
of
that
afternoon
interview
,
he
had
felt
a
stirring
of
tenderness
.
Bloody
but
unbowed
,
the
little
monster
.
She
could
match
them
every
inch
of
the
way
;
did
they
realize
it
?
He
felt
,
he
decided
,
what
he
might
have
felt
on
behalf
of
a
daughter
he
was
proud
of
,
only
he
had
no
daughter
.
So
he
had
stolen
her
from
Dane
,
carried
her
off
to
watch
her
aftermath
reaction
to
that
overpowering
ecclesiasticism
,
and
to
the
Dane
she
had
never
seen
before
;
the
Dane
who
was
not
and
could
not
ever
be
a
full-hearted
part
of
her
life
.
The
nicest
thing
about
his
personal
God
,
he
went
on
,
was
that
He
could
forgive
anything
;
He
could
forgive
Justine
her
innate
godlessness
and
himself
the
shutting
down
of
his
emotional
powerhouse
until
such
time
as
it
was
convenient
to
reopen
it
.
Only
for
a
while
he
had
panicked
,
thinking
he
had
lost
the
key
forever
.
He
smiled
,
threw
away
her
cigarette
.
The
key
...
Well
,
sometimes
keys
had
strange
shapes
.
Perhaps
it
needed
every
kink
in
every
curl
of
that
red
head
to
trip
the
tumblers
;
perhaps
in
a
room
of
scarlet
his
God
had
handed
him
a
scarlet
key
.
