“Yes.”

“Put it on my desk.”

Walli took the pack from his trouser pocket and angrily threw it onto the desk. His father picked up the pack and casually tossed it into a drawer. They were Lucky Strikes, not the inferior East German brand called f6, and it was almost a full packet, too.

“You’ll stay in every evening for a month,” his father said. “At least you won’t be visiting bars where people play the banjo and smoke all the time.”

Panic made Walli’s stomach cramp. He struggled to remain calm and reasonable. “It’s not a banjo, it’s a guitar. And I can’t possibly stay in for a month.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll do as I say.”

“All right,” Walli said desperately. “But not starting tonight.”

“Starting now.”

“But I have to go to the Minnesänger club tonight.”

“That’s just the kind of place I want you to keep away from.”

The old man was impossible! “I’ll stay in every night for a month from tomorrow, okay?”

“Your quarantine will not be adjusted to suit your plans. That would defeat the purpose. It is intended to inconvenience you.”

In this mood Father could not be shaken from his resolution, but Walli was mad with frustration, and he tried anyway. “You don’t understand! Tonight I’m entering a contest at the Minnesänger—it’s a unique opportunity.”

“I’m not postponing your punishment to permit you to play the banjo!”

“It’s a guitar, you stupid old fool! A guitar!” Walli stormed out.

The three women in the next room had obviously heard everything, and they stared at him. Rebecca said: “Oh, Walli . . .”

He picked up his guitar and left the room.

Until he got downstairs he had no plan, just rage; but when he saw the front door he knew what to do. With his guitar in his hand he walked out of the house and slammed the door so hard the house shook.

An upstairs window was thrown up and he heard his father shout: “Come back, do you hear me? Come back this minute, or you’ll be in even worse trouble.”

Walli walked on.

At first he was just angry, but after a while he felt exhilarated. He had defied his father and even called him a stupid old fool! He headed west, walking with a jaunty step. But soon his euphoria faded and he began to wonder what the consequences would be. His father did not take disobedience lightly. He commanded his children and his employees, and he expected them to comply. But what would he do? For two or three years now Walli had been too big to be spanked. Today Father had tried to keep him in the house as if it were a jail, but that had failed. Sometimes Father threatened to take him out of school and make him work in the business, but Walli considered that an empty threat: his father would not be comfortable with a resentful adolescent roaming around his precious factory. All the same, Walli had a feeling the old man would think of something.