Authors: Stefan Zweig
But already, and almost simultaneously, Kekesfalva, Ilona and Josef had made haste to raise the groaning girl. I realised, still incapable of looking at Edith, that they were carrying her
away by their combined efforts. I heard only the stifled sobs of her desperate anger, and the dragging footsteps of the others cautiously carrying their burden. At that second the mist of exaltation that had veiled my eyes all evening cleared. In that flash of enlightenment I saw everything with terrible clarity. I knew the poor girl would never get better. The miracle she had hoped my love would perform had not happened. I was not God any more, only a small, pitiful human being whose weakness did wicked damage, whose pity had disturbed and destroyed her. I was aware, terribly aware, of just what my duty was. Now or never was the time to keep faith with her, now or never I must help her, run after the others, sit beside her bed, reassure her, tell her untruthfully how wonderfully well she had walked, how she would soon be better! But I had no strength left in me for that desperate deception. I felt afraid, dreadfully afraid of her pleading and then greedily demanding eyes, afraid of the impatience of her wild heart, afraid of someone else’s unhappiness when I could not assuage it. And without thinking what I was doing I snatched up my sword and cap. For the third and last time, I fled from that house like a criminal.
Oh, for air—I need a breath of fresh air! I am stifling. Is it such a sultry night here among the trees, or is it the effect of the wine, all the wine I’ve drunk? My tunic is sticking to my body, an unpleasant feeling, and I tear the collar open. I wish I could throw my coat away, it weighs down so heavily on my shoulders. Air, just a breath of fresh air! I feel heat and throbbing pressure, as if my blood were trying to break through my skin, and there is a hammering in my ears, click-click, click-click—is
that still the horrible sound of those crutches, or is it the pulsing in my temples? Why am I running like this? I must try to think. What really happened? Think slowly, calmly, I tell myself, don’t get stuck at that click-click, click-click sound. Well then—I got engaged to be married … no, I was obliged to get engaged to be married … I didn’t want to, I never thought of doing such a thing … and now I’m engaged to be married, now I’ve been caught … But no, that’s not true. After all, I told the old man it wouldn’t be until she’s better, and she’ll never be better. So my promise counts only if … no, it doesn’t count at all! Nothing has happened, nothing at all has happened. Then why did I kiss her, why did I kiss her on the mouth? It’s not as if I wanted to … oh, pity, damn that pity! They kept setting traps for me, and now I’m caught. I actually got engaged, they were both there, her father and the other girl, and the servant … and I don’t want to, I don’t want to … what am I going to do now? Think calmly! Oh, that horrible, eternal click-click, that click-click … it will always be hammering in my ears now, she’ll always be hobbling after me on her crutches … It’s done, it can’t be undone, I’ve let her down, they’ve let me down. I got engaged. I was obliged to get engaged.
What’s that? Why are the trees reeling about? And the stars, it hurts to look at them whirring in the sky—there must be something the matter with my eyes. Such pressure in my head. This dreadful sultry heat! If I could just cool my forehead somewhere then I could think properly again. Or if I had something to drink to wash the muddy, bitter taste out of my throat. I’ve been this way so often—isn’t there a spring of water beside the path ahead? No, I passed it some time ago, like an idiot I must have been running, that’s why I get such a dreadful throbbing and hammering in my temples. Something to drink,
and then maybe I could think again. At last, as I come to the first low-built houses, I see light in a window with curtains only half-drawn, the yellow light of an oil lamp. That’s right—I remember now—there’s a little inn just outside the town where the carters always stop in the morning to warm themselves with a glass of schnapps. I’ll ask for water there, or something strong or bitter to get the slime out of my throat! Something to drink, anything! Without thinking, with the avidity of a man parched to death, I push the door open.
The stifling reek of evil-smelling tobacco meets me as I step into the dimly lit cavern. At the back is the bar where they sell spirits, in front is a table where some road-menders sit playing cards. A lancer is leaning against the bar with his back to me, joking with the landlady. He feels the draught as I come in, and as soon as he looks around his mouth drops open in alarm; he immediately pulls himself together and clicks his heels. What’s he afraid of? Oh, he probably thinks I’m an officer come to inspect the place, and he should have been back in barracks long ago. The landlady also looks uneasy, and the workmen stop in the middle of their game. Something about me must attract their attention. Only now, too late, do I remember; this must be one of those inns frequented only by the rank and file. As an officer, I’m not even supposed to set foot in it. Instinctively I turn to go.
But the landlady is already hurrying up deferentially, asking what she can do for me. I feel that I ought to apologise for bursting in like this. I’m not very well, I say, can she get me a soda water and a glass of slivovitz? “Coming, sir, just coming,” and she is already hurrying off again. I really just want to stand at the bar and toss both the water and the spirits straight down my throat, but all at once the oil lamp in the middle of the room begins to rock, the bottles on the shelf move silently
up and down, the floorboards under my feet are suddenly soft, swinging and swaying and making me stagger. I must sit down, I tell myself, and with the last of my strength I totter over to the empty table. The soda water arrives, and I drink it in a single draught. Ah, cold and good—for a moment the taste of vomit in my mouth goes away. Now to toss back the strong slivovitz and then stand up. But I can’t, I feel as if my feet were sunk in the floor, and my head is pounding with a dull throb. I order another slivovitz. Then I’ll have a cigarette and get out of here!
I light my cigarette. I’ll just stay sitting for a moment, my dazed head propped on both hands, and think, think, think it all out point by point. Right—so I got engaged … I was obliged to get engaged … but that doesn’t count because … no, no wriggling out of it, it does count, it does. I kissed her on the mouth, I did it of my own accord. But only to set her mind at rest, and because I knew she will never get better … she fell full length like a block of wood, how
can
I marry someone like that, she’s not a real woman, she’s … but they won’t let me go, they’ll never set me free … the old man, the djinn, the djinn with the face of an honest citizen and the gold-rimmed glasses, the djinn clinging to me, holding my arm, he’ll always drag me back to my pity, my damn sense of pity. Tomorrow the news will be all round the town, they’ll put a notice in the paper, and then there’s no going back … Might it be better to prepare my mother and father at home for the news so that they don’t hear it from someone else, even maybe from the newspaper? Should I explain why and how I got engaged, and say there’s no hurry about it, I didn’t really intend to do it, it was only out of pity I got embroiled in the whole thing? My pity, my damn pity! They certainly won’t understand it in the regiment, not one of my comrades will understand. What was it
Steinhübel said about Balinkay? “If you’re going to sell yourself you should at least make sure the price is right … ” Oh God, what will they say about this? Even I myself can’t understand how I came to get engaged to that … to that sickly creature. And imagine when Aunt Daisy finds out, Aunt Daisy is shrewd, it’s no use pretending to her, she won’t think much of this. It won’t be any good spinning her tales about Hungarian nobility and castles, she’ll look them straight up in the
Almanach de
Gotha
and within two days she’ll have found out that Kekesfalva used to be Lämmel Kanitz and Edith is half-Jewish, and as Aunt Daisy sees it nothing could be worse than bringing Jews into the family … It will be all right with Mother, the money will impress her—six million or seven million, he said … But I don’t care about his money, I’m not really planning to marry her, not for all the money in the world … I only said I would if she gets better, that’s all … but how am I going to explain that to them? All my comrades in the regiment have something against the old man, and they’re damn particular about these things. The honour of the regiment, yes, I know, I know … even Balinkay wasn’t forgiven for his marriage. He sold himself, they said scornfully, sold himself to that old Dutch trout. And when the family see those crutches … no, I’d rather not write home about that, no one needs to know about it yet, no one at all, I’m not having the entire officers’ mess making fun of me! But how am I going to avoid them? Maybe I ought to go to the Netherlands and see Balinkay? That’s it—I haven’t said I’m turning down his job yet, I can go to Rotterdam any day, leaving Condor to cope with the situation here, after all, he’s the one who and landed me in this mess, he and no one else. It’s up to him to see how he can straighten things out, it’s all his fault. Yes, I’d better go straight to him and explain it all
… explain that I simply can’t … It was dreadful to see her just collapse like a sack of oats … I
can’t
marry a girl like that … That’s it, I’ll tell him I’m not going along with his plans … I must go to see Condor now, at once … Get me a cab! Where to? Florianigasse—what was the number again? Ninety-seven Florianigasse … and drive fast, you’ll get a good tip but drive fast, whip up the horses … ah, here we are, I recognise the place, the run-down building where he lives, I know it again, the disgustingly dirty spiral staircase. What a good thing it’s so steep—ha, ha, ha, she won’t get up here on those crutches, I’ll be safe there from that click-click … What? Is that slovenly maidservant at the door again? Does the slut spend her whole time standing at the door? “Is the doctor at home?” “No, but he soon coming.” Bohemian fool! Well, let’s sit down and wait in there. Always waiting for that fellow, he’s never at home. Oh God, if only that blind woman doesn’t come shuffling in again … I don’t want her around just now, my nerves won’t stand it. Always showing such consideration … Jesus and Mary, here she comes, I hear her steps next door … no, thank God, it can’t be her, that tread is too firm, the blind woman doesn’t walk like that. It must be someone else walking about and talking inside that room … but I do know the voice. What? How on earth … but that’s … that’s Aunt Daisy’s voice, and yes, how is it possible? How does Aunt Bella come to be here too all of a sudden, and Mama, and my brother and my sister-in-law? Nonsense, this is impossible, I’m in Condor’s waiting room in Florianigasse. My family don’t know the place, how can they all have arranged to meet at Condor’s apartment? But it
is
the family, I know that voice, Aunt Daisy’s screech … for God’s sake, where can I hide? The sounds next door are coming closer and closer … now the door opens … it opened of its
own accord, both halves of it, and—oh, good heavens!—there they all are standing in a semicircle as if they were about to have a photograph taken. They’re looking at me, Mama in her black taffeta dress with the white ruffles, the one she wore to Ferdinand’s wedding, and there’s Aunt Daisy in a dress with puff sleeves, her gold lorgnette raised to her sharp, haughty nose, that nasty pointed nose, I’ve hated it ever since I was four years old! My brother in tails—why is he wearing tails in the middle of the day? … and my sister-in-law Franzi with her fat, flabby face … oh, this is horrible, horrible! Look at them staring at me, and Aunt Bella smiling her sour smile, it’s as if they were waiting for something … but they’re all in a semicircle, it’s like being at a formal audience, they’re all waiting and waiting … what are they waiting for?
But, “Congratulations!” says my brother solemnly, walking out in front of the others with his top hat in his hand. I think he says it rather sarcastically, damn him, but “Congratulations, congratulations!” say the others, nodding and bowing to me.
How … how do they know already, and why are they all here together? Aunt Daisy doesn’t get on with Ferdinand … and I haven’t said a word to anyone!
“Many congratulations, well done, well done … seven million, that’s a tidy sum, you’ve done well … seven million, there’ll be plenty to spare for the whole family,” they say, all talking at the same time and grinning.
“Well done, well done,” says Aunt Bella, licking her lips. “Now my Franz can go on with his studies. A good match!”
“Said to be aristocratic, too,” bleats my brother from under his top hat.
But Aunt Daisy’s parrot-like screech interrupts him. “Well, we’ll have a good look at this aristocratic background of hers!”
And now my mother is coming closer to me, whispering shyly, “Won’t you introduce your fiancée to us?”
Introduce her … all I need is for everyone to see her crutches, and find out where my stupid pity has landed me … I should just about think not! And then—how can I introduce her to them, when we’re in Condor’s place in Florianigasse up on the third floor? That cripple could never manage the eighty steps up here! But why are they all turning around as if something were going on in the next room? Now I feel it myself … I feel the draught of air behind me … someone must have opened the door there. Is someone coming after all? Yes, I hear something coming … there’s a groaning and a squealing from the stairs, and something is making its way … hauling and dragging itself and panting on the way up … click-click, click-click … for God’s sake, she can’t really be coming up? She won’t put me to shame like that with her crutches … I’d like to crawl away from this malicious crowd and sink into the ground … but how terrible, it really is her, it can’t be anyone else … click-click, click-click, I know the sound … click-click, click-click, closer and closer … she’ll be here in a moment … I’d better lock the door. But here’s my brother taking off his top hat, and he bows to the click-click sound behind him … who’s he bowing to, and why so low? Then, suddenly, they all begin to laugh out loud, making the windowpanes ring.