'Sex and violence,' Lilly said.
'You mean the whores?' I asked her.
'The climate of them,' Lilly said, sitting pretty in one of the screwed-down chairs, rocking slightly in her seat -her feet, of course, not reaching the floor.
'The climate of whores?' I said.
The climate of sex and violence,' Lilly said. That's what it sounds like to me. That whole city,' she said. 'Look at Rudolf -- killing his girl friend, then killing himself.'
'That was in the last century, Lilly,' I reminded her.
'And that man who fucked that woman four hundred and sixty-four times,' Lilly said.
'Schnitzler,' I said. 'Almost a century ago, Lilly.'
'It's probably worse now,' Lilly said. 'Most things are.'
That would have been Frank -- who told her that -- I knew.
; 'And the flu,' said Lilly, 'and the wars. And the Hungarians,' she said.
'The revolution?' I asked her. 'That was last year, Lilly.'
'And all the rape in the Russian Sector,' Lilly said. 'Franny will get raped again. Or I will,' she said, adding, 'if someone small enough catches me.'
'The occupation is over,' I said.
'A violent climate,' Lilly repeated. 'All the repressed sexuality.'
'That's the other Freud, Lilly,' I said.
'And what will the bear do?' Lilly asked. 'A hotel with whores and bears and spies.'
'Not spies, Lilly,' I said. I knew she meant the East-West relations people. 'I think they're just intellectuals,' I told her, but this didn't appear to comfort her; she shook her head.
'I can't stand violence,' Lilly said. 'And Vienna reeks of it,' she said; it was as if she'd been studying the tourist map and had found all the corners where Junior Jones's gangs hung out. The whole place shouts of violence,' Lilly said. 'It absolutely broadcasts it,' Lilly said; it was as if she had taken these words into her mouth to suck on them: reeks, shouts, broadcasts. The whole idea of going over there just shivers with violence,' Lilly said, shivering. Her tiny knees gripped the seat of the screwed-down chair, her slender legs whipped back and forth, violently fanning the floor. She was only eleven, and I wondered where she'd found all the words she used, and why her imagination seemed much older than she was. Why were the women in our family either wise, like Mother, or an 'old sixteen' -- as Junior Jones said of Franny -- or like Lilly: small and soft, but bright beyond her years? Why should they get all the brains? I wondered, thinking of Father; although Mother and Father were both thirty-seven, Father seemed ten years younger to me -- 'and ten years dumber,' Franny said. And what was I? I wondered, because Franny -- and even Lilly -- made me feel I would be fifteen forever. And Egg was immature -- a seven-year-old with five-year-old habits. And Frank was Frank, the King of Mice, able to bring back dogs from the dead, able to master a different language, and able to put the oddities of history to his personal use; but in spite of his obvious abilities, I felt that Frank -- in many other categories -- was operating with a mental age of four.
Lilly sat with her head down and her little legs swinging. 'I like the Hotel New Hampshire,' Lilly said. 'In fact, I love it; I don't want to leave here,' she said, the predictable tears in her eyes. I gave her a hug and picked her up; I could have bench-pressed Lilly while the seasons changed. I carried her back to her room.
'Think of it this way,' I told her. 'We'll just be going to another Hotel New Hampshire, Lilly. The same thing, but another country.' But Lilly cried and cried.
'I'd rather stay with the circus called Fritz's Act,' she bawled. 'I'd rather stay with them, and I don't even know what they do!'
Soon we would know what they did, of course. Too soon. It was summer, then, and before we were packed -- before we'd even made the airplane reservations -- the four-foot forty-one-year-old named Frederick 'Fritz' Worter paid us a visit. There were some papers to sign, and some of the other members of Fritz's Act wished to have a look at their future home.
One morning, when Egg was sleeping beside Sorrow, I looked out our window at Elliot Park. At first nothing seemed strange; some men and women were getting out of a Volkswagen bus. They were all, more or less, the same size. We were still a hotel, after all, and I thought they might be guests. Then I realized that there were five women and eight men -- yet they quite comfortably spilled out of one Volkswagen bus -- and when I recognized Frederick 'Fritz' Worter as one of them, I realized that they were all the same size as him.
Max Urick, who'd been shaving while looking out his fourth-floor window, screamed and cut himself. 'A fucking busload of midgets,' he told us later. 'It's not what you expect to see when you're just getting up.'
It is impossible to say what Ronda Ray might have done, or said, if she had seen them; but Ronda was still in bed. Franny, and my barbells, were lying untouched in Franny's room; Frank -- whether he was dreaming, studying German, or reading about Vienna -- was in a world of his own. Egg was sleeping with Sorrow, and Mother and Father -- who would be embarrassed about it, later -- were having fun in old 3E.
I ran into Lilly's room, knowing she would want to see the arrival of at least the human part of Fritz's Act, but Lilly was already awake and watching them through her window; she was wearing an old-fashioned nightgown that Mother had bought her in an antique store -- it completely enveloped Lilly -- and she was hugging her Raggedy Ann doll to her chest. 'It's a small circus, just like Mr. Worter said,' Lilly whispered, adoringly. In Elliot Park we watched the midgets gathering beside the Volkswagen bus; they were stretching and yawning; one of the men did a handstand; one of the women did a cartwheel. One of them started moving on all fours, like a chimpanzee, but Fritz clapped his hands, scolding such foolishness; they drew together, like a miniature football team having a huddle (with two extra players); then they started marching, in an orderly fashion, toward our lobby door.
Lilly went to let them in; I went to the switchboard to make the announcement. To 3E, for example: 'New owners arriving -- all thirteen of them. Over and out.' To Frank: 'Guten Morgen! Fritz's Act ist hier angekommen. Wachs du auf!' And to Franny: 'Midgets! Go wake up Egg so he won't be frightened; he'll think he dreamed them. Tell him thirteen midgets are here, but it's safe!'
Then I ran up to Ronda Ray's room; I was better at giving her messages in person. They're here!' I whispered, outside her door.