From Remarque's Night in Lisbon

“Near the hotel I heard subdued voices and steps. Two SS men came out of a house door, pushing a man ahead of them into the street. I saw his face in the light of a street lamp. It was narrow and waxen, and a black trickle of blood ran down over his chin from one corner of his mouth. The crown of his head was bald, but there was a growth of dark hair on the sides. His eyes were wide open and full of horror such as I had not seen in years. Not a sound escaped him. The SS men pushed and pulled him impatiently. They were quiet about it. There was something muffled and eerie about the whole scene. The SS men cast furious, challenging glances at me as they passed, and the prisoner stared at me out of paralyzed eyes, making a gesture that seemed to be a plea for help; his lips moved, but not a sound came out. It was a scene as old as humankind: the minions of power, the victim, the eternal third, the onlooker, who doesn’t raise a finger in defense of the victim, who makes no attempt to set him free, because he fears for his own safety, which for that very reason is always in danger. “I knew I could do nothing for the arrested man. The armed SS men would have overpowered me without difficulty. I remembered that someone had told me about a similar scene. He had seen an SS man arresting and beating a Jew and had come to the Jew’s help; he had knocked the SS man unconscious and told the victim to run. But the arrested Jew had cursed his liberator; now, he said, he was really lost, because this, too, would be counted against him; sobbing, he had gone for water to revive the SS man, so that the SS man could lead him to his death. This story came back to me now, but, even so, I was thoroughly ashamed of my fear and helplessness. I felt that it was sinful and frivolous to be thinking of my own welfare while others were being murdered. I went to the hotel, gathered up my things, and took a cab to the station, although it was much too early. It was more dangerous to sit in the waiting room than to hide in my hotel room, but that was what I wanted. Pure childishness, but the risk restored my self-respect a little.