Hitler's Table Talk

HITLER'S LANDLADY IN STEYR 193
in this rig. The teacher asked what was the matter with me,
and I answered in an indistinct murmur, making him think
that I couldn't speak. He was scared of a possible infection,
supposing I was in very bad shape, and at once exclaimed:
"Be off, be off! Go home, take care of yourself!"
I always had the habit of reading during lessons—reading
books, of course, that had nothing to do with the aforesaid
lessons. One day I was reading a book on diseases caused by
microbes, when the teacher pounced on me, tore the book from
my hands, and threw it into a corner. "You should take an
example from me, and read serious works, if read you must."
Steyr was an unpleasant town—the opposite of Linz. Linz,
full of national spirit. Steyr, black and red—the clergy and
Marxism. I lodged with a school-companion in Grünmarkt,
No. 9, in a little room overlooking the courtyard. The boy's
first name was Gustav, I've forgotten his surname. The room
was rather agreeable, but the view over the courtyard was
sinister. I often used to practise shooting rats from the window.
Our landlady was very fond of us. She regularly took sides
with us against her husband, who was a cipher in his own
house, so to speak. She used to attack him like a viper.
I remember the sort of quarrel they often used to have. A
few days before, I had asked my landlady—very politely—to
give me my breakfast coffee a little less hot, so that I should have
time to swallow it before we set off. On the morning of this
quarrel, I pointed out to her that it was already half-past the
hour, and I was still waiting for my coffee. She argued about
whether it was so late. Then the husband intervened. "Petronella,"
he said, "it's twenty-five to." At this remark, made by
someone who had no right to speak, she blew up. Evening came,
and Petronella had not yet calmed down. On the contrary, the
quarrel had reached its climax. The husband decided to leave
the house, and, as usual, asked one of us to come with him—for
he was afraid of the rats, and had to be shown a light. When
he'd gone, Petronella bolted the door. Gustav and I said to
one another: "Look out for squalls!" The husband at once
injured his nose on the shut door, and politely asked his wife to
open. As she didn't react, except by humming, he ordered her
H