Sophie's Choice - William Styron [138]
“Es kann kein Zweifel sein—” he resumed, then stopped abruptly. “ ‘There can be no question—’ no, that’s too strong. I should say something less positive?” It was an ambiguous question mark. He spoke now, as he had once or twice before, with an odd inquisitive undertone in his voice, as if he might be wishing to solicit Sophie’s opinion without compromising his authority by actually doing so. It was in effect a question addressed to both of them. In conversation Höss was extremely articulate. Yet his epistolary style, Sophie had observed, though workable and certainly not illiterate, fell often into clumsy, semi-opaque labyrinthine periods; it had the prosy, crippled rhythms of a man who was Army-educated, a perennial adjutant. Höss went into one of his protracted pauses.
“Aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach,” Sophie suggested a little hesitantly, though with less hesitation than she might have demonstrated several days before. “That’s much less positive.”
“ ‘In all probability,’ ” Höss repeated. “Yes, that’s very good. It allows the Reichsführer more leeway to form his own judgment in the matter. Put that down then, followed by... ”
Sophie felt a glow of satisfaction, almost pleasure, at this last remark. She sensed a barrier being breached, ever so slightly, between them after so many hours in which his manner had been metallically impersonal, businesslike, the dictation delivered with the gelid unconcern of an automaton. Only once so far—and that briefly the day before—had he let down that barrier. She could not be sure, but she even thought she detected a trace of warmth in his voice now as if he were suddenly speaking to her, an identifiable human being, rather than to a slave laborer, eine schmutzige Polin, plucked out of the swarm of diseased and dying ants through incredible luck (or by the grace of God, she sometimes devoutly reflected) and by virtue of the fact that she was doubtless one of the very few prisoners, if not the only one, who, bilingual in Polish and German, was also proficient on the typewriter in both languages and knew Gabelsberger shorthand. It was in shorthand now that she completed Höss’s penultimate paragraph to Himmler: “In all probability, then, a reassessment must be made of the transport problem of the Greek Jews should any further deportations from Athens be contemplated for the immediate future. The mechanism for Special Action at Birkenau having become severely taxed beyond all expectation, it is respectfully suggested that, in the specific matter of the Greek Jews, alternative destinations in the occupied territories of the East, such as KL Treblinka or KL Sobibór, be considered.”
Höss halted then, lighting a fresh cigarette from the butt of the last. He was gazing, with a slight daydream cast, through the partially open casement window. Suddenly he made a little exclamation, loud enough that she thought something might be wrong. But a quick smile spread over his face, and she heard him gasp “Aaah!” as he leaned intently forward to peer down into the field adjoining the house. "Aaah!” he said again raptly, drawing in his breath, and then half whispered to her, “Quick! Come here!