Authors: Josef Skvorecky
‘Well, there they go,’ she said, and giggled. Mr Kozak left his window and the castle kids rushed out through the gate after the carriages.
‘Yes. Well, I’ve got to be going, too. Thanks,’ I said, and shook Ema’s hand.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘So long,’ I said, and walked quickly out through the gate and down the drive. I turned left, past the ball courts, jumped over a ditch, and plunged into the woods. It was almost dark under the trees, but as I went on light sifted through from the far side. I walked across the soft pine needles. At the rim of the woods there was a large grassy clearing. I sat down and looked at the Heisers’s mansion and the factory buildings below. The sun still lit up parts of the town down in the valley; most of it was already in shadow though. In the shadow of Castle Hill the Heisers’s place was turning blue. The long grey factory sheds
behind it were fading out in the evening haze. From a long way off, coming in from the east, I could hear a faint rumbling and the muffled bark of gunfire. The stars in the eastern sky glistened as if they were wet. In the west, the horizon glowed pink. Again I heard faint but distinct bursts of machine-gun fire. You couldn’t see anything, though, just a piece of the silent town below and the Heisers’s handsome mansion.
I lay down on my back in the grass and looked up at the moist little stars that had started to twinkle shyly in the darkening sky. Right over me and a bit off to the east, the beautiful constellation of Orion’s Belt stretched splendidly out across the heavens, all laid out in the same great pattern as always. To the left I saw a feeble reddish little star – the red giant Betelgeuse – and it seemed very odd that there was that ball bigger than our entire solar system and thinner than air, shining up there calmly and quietly in the remoteness of space, like a drop of raspberry juice on a patch of green moss, while down here below me was Kostelec and revolution and every once in a while the sound of gunfire rolling in from Germany. The sky and its little stars were calm and still, but down in the town there was a stifled rustle and a peculiar kind of springtime tension, like just before a thunderstorm. I could feel the cool blades of grass under my head and the hard ground under my back. I closed my eyes and started thinking about life and how I’d live it and thought of Mitzi, but only as an overture or transition into the new kind of life I was going to start in Prague, and I thought about how I’d tell her, Mitzi, I’m crazy about you, but then it struck me I’d used that line on every girl I’d ever met and I wondered whether I’d use it again on the girl I was going to meet in Prague and knew I would because it was the only one I knew and I’d used it on everybody and it had usually worked, though it hadn’t helped much with Irena, because girls are basically all the same and I had the feeling I was far superior to them all, that I was just playing around with them, secretly laughing at them, and I wondered whether I’d feel the same with that girl I was going to meet in Prague and I was sure I would because she’d be just another girl no matter how pretty and smart and amoral she was because I just
couldn’t believe that besides me and boys and girls, there could be a fourth sort of people on earth or some kind of female counterpart of me. I mean, who’d come anywhere close to being a match for me. The whole idea struck me as being ridiculous, absurd. And then suddenly my thoughts got all tangled up and I was somewhere else and everything shifted and turned crazy and fast and I drifted off far, far away and suddenly I was cold and the sky above me was black and littered with cold white stars and I realized I’d fallen asleep so I sat up and I could see cracks of light shining out through the badly blacked-out windows of the houses on the hill and the dome of heaven was mirrored in the swimming pool down on Jerusalem Street and you could hear that springtime buzz coming up from the town and then I realized Mitzi had stood me up so I got up, even though I was half frozen, and said to myself, Mitzi, you bitch – so you didn’t even bother to show up, did you? Well, that sure takes care of that, but it really didn’t bother me now and I headed down through the grass towards the Heisers’s. I looked in through the window of the salon which wasn’t blacked out and saw Mrs Heiserova. She walked towards the window looked out into the dark, then turned and said something to somebody inside. You couldn’t hear a word, you could just see her mouth moving. Mitzi wasn’t in the room. The light from the window sort of melted away in the darkness. I turned and started back towards town. She’d given me the brush-off and now she was probably sitting up in her little room laughing at me. A machine gun was chattering away again in Germany. It was a warm night, more like summer than spring. Anyway, it served me right. Why couldn’t I be faithful to Irena? Why did I have to turn to look at every skirt that went by, why didn’t other girls leave me cold when I was so in love with Irena? Maybe that was asking too much of me. I wondered whether the sight of another girl would ever leave me cold and decided it wouldn’t, ever. Or maybe when I finally met that girl in Prague. But I knew that even then they probably wouldn’t. Anyway, that wasn’t the point. The point wasn’t to be blind to other girls. What point would there be to that? The trick was, not to be blind, but to
stick to one girl. That was what counted in life and maybe that was the way it should be. To stick to one girl, even though you liked them all, and be happy with her and have tender loving feelings for her and stay with her for as long as you lived. With Irena. Or that girl I was going to meet in Prague. I was in love with her already, just because she was alive, because she must be out there somewhere, just waiting for me, maybe. There must be girls somewhere who know how to love just one man, body and soul and always, and how to be faithful to him too.
I turned down the tree-lined street towards the workers’ district and there, among the shadows, I saw the flash of a girl’s light dress that was cut in half at the waist by a dark-sleeved arm, and as the couple strode quickly down the path towards the woods the starlight lit up a blonde head I recognized right away. It was Dagmar Dreslerova, but the guy with his arm around her waist wasn’t Kocandrle. I stepped back into the shadows and watched. They cut across the meadow towards the clearing in the woods where I’d dozed off just a few minutes before. The guy boosted her along up the slope and then all of a sudden they stopped and threw their arms around each other. His cap fell off and his red crewcut flared up in the starlight. I stared. He was wearing what looked like a wind-breaker. Then they pulled apart and Dagmar raced on up towards the clearing, the guy right behind her. He had narrow hips. Jesus! Of course. It was Siddell, my Englishman, the one who said he’d just gone out for a walk. Hell, he sure didn’t lose any time. Less than half a day and more than half-way there already. The last thing I saw was the two of them tumbling down on to the grass and Dagmar’s white knees gleaming in the starlight.
I turned and went on down the road through the workers’ district. So that was girls for you. Well, so be it. Under the shadows of the blossoming trees small bunches of people, many of them in shirtsleeves, were standing listening in silence to the distant sound of the guns. From the other end of the workers’ district you could hear a woman giggling and a man’s laugh booming out through the dark. Some beginner was practising
on a bugle in one of the old apartment houses. I walked along next to the factory wall. Lewith’s cafeteria on the other side was still lit up and through the barred windows I saw somebody’s green-uniformed back. The doors downstairs were open and in the pale light of a single bulb stood a cluster of guys wearing caps, talking to some Russian refugees. I kept on going. The main smokestack of the power station loomed up in the sky. Betelgeuse stood balanced and glowing right on the tip of the lightning rod. Gunfire rang out again from the east. Mr Pitterman was standing in a doorway with Rosta. They were both gazing up at the sky and listening.
‘Good evening,’ I said.
‘Good evening,’ said Mr Pitterman.
‘Hi,’ said Rosta. ‘Where’re you off to?’
I stepped up into the doorway. ‘Hear that?’ I said.
‘Yes. They’re getting pretty close,’ said Mr Pitterman.
‘I’ll say,’ I said.
‘They’ll be here tomorrow. Dad’s already got his red flag all fixed up,’ Rosta said.
‘Well, you know how it is,’ said Mr Pitterman, embarrassed. We were standing in the doorway to Mr Pitterman’s house. Besides that place, he owned five others on Jirasek Boulevard, plus a store and an electric mangle.
‘Yeah. They may come in pretty handy,’ I said.
‘You have one, too?’
‘What?’
‘A red flag.’
‘No. But we don’t own our own house either.’
‘Rosta thinks it’s all just a joke, but it isn’t,’ said Mr Pitterman.
‘They’ll take everything away anyway, Dad. Because you’re a bourgeois and a capitalist,’ said Rosta.
‘You keep quiet! You’d do well to learn where to just keep your mouth shut, Rostislav!’
‘You going over to the brewery tomorrow?’ I asked.
‘Sure. Listen …’ Rosta grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the hallway. ‘I wrote one, too.’
‘Huh? One what?’
‘Well, what … what we were talking about over at the brewery.’
‘Oh, your will,’ I said.
Rosta looked at me. ‘You think maybe I shouldn’t have?’
‘Well, sure. Why not? You can’t lose anything by it,’ I said.
‘Look, I know Dagmar’s a tramp,’ said Rosta. ‘But still …’
‘If you know that, Rosta,’ I said, ‘you know a lot.’
‘Well, sure I do,’ he said. ‘Still, she’s a good kid and I’ll bet if anything ever happened to me, she’d feel pretty bad about it, wouldn’t she?’
‘She sure would,’ I said.
‘Aw, hell, I don’t know. She goes around telling me I’m nuts and that there’re more important things to worry about now, but that’s where I think she’s wrong. It’s the only thing – I mean, what’s between her and me – it’s the only thing that does count. Not for her maybe but it sure is for me.’
‘Well then, it’s a good thing you wrote it,’ I said. ‘Maybe you’ll need it.’
‘You think so?’
‘I was just up at the castle. From up there Germany’s nothing but fireworks.’
‘Really?’
‘That’s right,’ I said and then added, ‘so maybe Dagmar’ll be sorry after all.’
‘I’ll say she will,’ said Rosta.
‘Well, I’ve got to go. Good night.’
‘See you,’ said Rosta.
‘So long,’ I said and walked back out to the boulevard which was empty now. I got home, unlocked the outside door, and went upstairs. Everybody was already sound asleep. The door to my room was closed. Mother’s voice came from the bedroom.
‘Danny?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered.
‘That Englishman hasn’t come back yet.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘He won’t be back for a while.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Well, I saw him,’ I said. ‘He … he’s out having a good time, that’s all.’
‘Gracious me,’ said Mother. ‘Already? And nothing happened to you? You’re all right, Danny?’
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘I made up your bed on the kitchen couch.’
‘Fine. Good night.’
‘Good night.’
I went into the kitchen and slowly undressed. Then I lay down on the couch and pulled up the blanket. The couch stood by the wall under the window and through it you got a wonderful view of the sky. I looked up and saw Betelgeuse glowing red above me again. It was following me. I started mulling things over again – Irena and then Dagmar and then tried to think about the revolution and shooting, but couldn’t keep my mind on it and looked out the window at Betelgeuse which was almost directly above me and started thinking about that girl I was going to meet in Prague but somehow I couldn’t quite picture her but that didn’t stop me from thinking about her anyway and I was sure she existed, she had to, and I could feel she was there, coming towards me, like out of the sky and wearing that red Betelgeuse around her neck on a little silver chain, and exactly what colour her eyes were I couldn’t say but she was wonderful and I saw her but didn’t know a thing about her except that she’d probably turn out to be a bitch, too, and then I fell asleep, sound asleep, a sleep without dreams.
The next morning, as soon as I walked out of the door of our building, I was caught up in a regular maelstrom of people. The German Army was pulling back from the frontier. The streets were packed. There were Germans in dusty uniforms, some armed and some not, and a few on bikes, all heading west as fast as they could go. And there were refugees – swarms of them. And townspeople. While I stared, Franta, the glassmaker, burst out of the house next door with his shirtsleeves rolled up and made straight for the Germans, grabbed for a rifle slung over one soldier’s back and started yanking at it. The German tried to push him away – but not very hard – then unhitched the strap and let the rifle fall, and the next minute Franta had already picked it up and was heading back to his house, holding the rifle up high in both hands. This sparked the crowd. From both sides of the street, people moved in on the Germans, scrambling to lay hands on a rifle, but the Germans closed ranks and trained their guns on the mob. They stood in a huddle bristling with muzzles; the mob stopped, then just stood there swearing at the Germans. The Germans moved on again and the crowd let them pass and, when they’d gone on, followed along behind. I tagged along, too. Looking at the backs and rumps of those guys tramping in front of me in their tight jackets and bulging pants, I thought they looked awfully well fed. So this was our uprising. I trailed merrily along behind them and every once in a while caught a glimpse of the grey German helmets and guns near the street corner now. The crowd of guys just ahead of me were still yelling and shaking their fists. We’d already reached the anti-tank barricade at Novotny’s and there the Germans had to slow down a bit to get through the barrier. One soldier halted and waited for all the others to pass through. Then one guy jumped him and tried to wrest his rifle away from him. The crowd seethed. Two
other Germans turned and lifted their submachine guns. I caught a glimpse of their faces for a second – expressionless and exhausted – and then both of those guns held ready to fire into the crowd. Then somebody yelled and the rear of the crowd started pushing up against the front. That blocked my view. All I could see now were those fat backsides working their way forward. Then two shots rang out, one right after the other. Immediately the crowd started to scatter. The guy in front of me turned and piled into me full force, sending me sprawling on the sidewalk. First all I saw were stars and then people racing off every which way and in no time at all the street in front of me was deserted except for those two Germans with their submachine guns. They were still standing by the anti-tank barrier. One of the muzzles was still smoking and the third German was still holding his rifle and they all just stared blankly in front of them. I sat there, dazed, staring right back at them. One of them glanced at me, but then quickly turned to the others and said,
‘Los! Gehn wa!’