Convinced, he let go of my arm. On my way back, he opened the trapdoor and once again took the pan from me.
Standing by the door, I asked, “What are you working on?” “French,” he replied.
I asked if I could take a look at his lessons. Then I went to wash my hands and sat down across from him on the divan.
After I'd explained some French to him, we began to talk.
He told me that after the war he wanted to go to the Dutch East Indies and live on a rubber plantation.
He talked about his life at home, the black market and how he felt like a worthless bum. I told him he had a big inferiority complex.
He talked about the war, saying that Russia and England were bound to go to war against each other, and about the Jews.
He said life would have been much easier if he'd been a Christian or could become one after the war.
I asked if he wanted to be baptized, but that wasn't what he meant either.
He said he'd never be able to feel like a Christian, but that after the war he'd make sure nobody would know he was Jewish.
I felt a momentary pang. It's such a shame he still has a touch of dishonesty in him.
Peter added, “The Jews have been and always will be the chosen people!”
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