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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Goose Man + +Author: Jacob Wassermann + +Release Date: May 6, 2008 [EBook #25345] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOOSE MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Markus Brenner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1 class="titlepage">The GOOSE MAN</h1> + +<p class="author"><i>by</i> <span class="smcap">Jacob Wassermann</span></p> + +<p class="credits"><small><i>Author of</i></small><br /> +“THE WORLD’S ILLUSION”</p> + +<p class="credits"><small><i>Authorized translation by</i></small><br /> +ALLEN W. PORTERFIELD</p> + +<div style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;"> +<hr /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 86px;"> +<a href="images/gaensemaennchen.png"> +<img src="images/gaensemaennchen_th.png" width="86" height="198" alt="Das Gänsemännchen" title="Das Gänsemännchen" /></a> +</div> + +<div style="margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 2em;"> +<hr /> +</div> + +<p class="credits"><big>GROSSET & DUNLAP ~ <i>Publishers</i></big><br /> +<small><i>by arrangement with</i></small><br /> +HARCOURT, BRACE & COMPANY</p> + + +<div class="translaternote"> +<p class="center"><i>NOTE</i></p> + +<p><i>The first chapter, “A Mother Seeks Her Son,” and sections I +and II of the second chapter, “Foes, Brothers, a Friend, and a +Mask,” were translated by Ludwig Lewisohn. The rest of the +book has been translated by Allen W. Porterfield. The title, “The +Goose Man” (“Das Gänsemännchen”), refers to the famous statue +of that name in Nuremberg.</i></p> +</div> + + +<p class="copyright"> +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY<br /> +HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.</p> + +<p class="printed">PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.</p> + + + + +<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> +<caption>CONTENTS</caption> +<tr><td></td><td class="page"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_MOTHER_SEEKS_HER_SON">A Mother Seeks Her Son</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#FOES_BROTHERS_A_FRIEND_AND_A_MASK">Foes, Brothers, A Friend and a Mask</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_NERO_OF_TO-DAY">The Nero of To-day</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#INSPECTOR_JORDAN_AND_HIS_CHILDREN">Inspector Jordan and His Children</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#VOICES_FROM_WITHOUT_AND_VOICES_FROM_WITHIN">Voices from Without and Voices from Within</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#IN_MEMORY_OF_A_DREAM_FIGURE">In Memory of a Dream Figure</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#DANIEL_AND_GERTRUDE">Daniel and Gertrude</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_GLASS_CASE_BREAKS">The Glass Case Breaks</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#TRES_FACIUNT_COLLEGIUM">Tres Faciunt Collegium</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#PHILIPPINA_STARTS_A_FIRE">Philippina Starts a Fire</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ELEANORE">Eleanore</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_ROOM_WITH_THE_WITHERED_FLOWERS">The Room with the Withered Flowers</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_323">323</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_PROMETHEAN_SYMPHONY">The Promethean Symphony</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#DOROTHEA">Dorothea</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_405">405</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_DEVIL_LEAVES_THE_HOUSE_IN_FLAMES">The Devil Leaves the House in Flames</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_435">435</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#BUT_ASIDE_WHO_IS_IT">But Aside, Who Is It?</a></td><td class="page"><a href="#Page_455">455</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<!-- <p>[Blank Page]</p> --> + + + +<h1><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span>THE GOOSE MAN</h1> + + + + +<h2 style="margin-top: 2em;"><a name="A_MOTHER_SEEKS_HER_SON" id="A_MOTHER_SEEKS_HER_SON"></a>A MOTHER SEEKS HER SON</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">The</span> landscape shows many shades of green; deep forests, mostly +coniferous, extend from the valley of the Rednitz to that of the +Tauber. Yet the villages lie in the midst of great circles of +cultivated land, for the tillage of man is immemorial here. +Around the many weirs the grass grows higher, so high often that +you can see only the beaks of the droves of geese, and were it not +for their cackle you might take these beaks to be strangely mobile +flowers.</p> + +<p>The little town of Eschenbach lies quite flat on the plain. In +it a fragment of the Middle Ages has survived, but no strangers +know it, since hours of travel divide it from any railway. Ansbach +is the nearest point in the great system of modern traffic; to +get there you must use a stage-coach. And that is as true to-day as +it was in the days when Gottfried Nothafft, the weaver, lived there.</p> + +<p>The town walls are overgrown with moss and ivy; the old drawbridges +still cross the moats and take you through the round, ruined +gates into the streets. The houses have bay-windows and far-projecting +overhangs, and their interlacing beams look like the +criss-cross of muscles on an anatomical chart.</p> + +<p>Concerning the poet who was once born here and who sang the +song of Parsifal, all living memory has faded. Perhaps the fountains +whisper of him by night; perhaps sometimes when the moon +is up, his shadow hovers about the church or the town-hall. The +men and women know nothing of him any more.</p> + +<p>The little house of the weaver, withdrawn by a short distance +from the street, stood not far from the inn at the sign of the Ox. +Three worn steps took you to its door, and six windows looked out +upon the quiet square. It is strange to reflect that the spirit of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>modern industrialism hewed its destructive path even to this forgotten +nook of the world.</p> + +<p>In 1849, at the time of Gottfried Nothafft’s marriage—his wife, +Marian, was one of the two Höllriegel sisters of Nuremberg—he +had still been able to earn a tolerable living. So the couple +desired a child, but desired it for years in vain. Often, at the +end of the day’s work, when Gottfried sat on the bench in front +of his house and smoked his pipe, he would say: “How good it +would be if we had a son.” Marian would fall silent and lower +her eyes.</p> + +<p>As time passed, he stopped saying that, because he would not +put the woman to shame. But his expression betrayed his desire +all the more clearly.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>A day came on which his trade seemed to come to a halt. The +weavers in all the land complained that they could not keep their +old pace. It was as though a creeping paralysis had come upon +them. The market prices suddenly dropped, and the character of +the goods was changed.</p> + +<p>This took place toward the end of the eighteen hundred and +fifties, when the new power looms were being introduced from +America. No toil profited anything. The cheap product which +the machines could furnish destroyed the sale of the hand-made +weaves.</p> + +<p>At first Gottfried Nothafft refused to be cast down. Thus the +wheel of a machine will run on for a space after the power has +been cut off. But gradually his courage failed. His hair turned +grey in a single winter, and at the age of forty-five he was a +broken man.</p> + +<p>And just as poverty appeared threatening at their door, and the +soul of Marian began to be stained by hatred, the longing of the +couple was fulfilled, and the wife became pregnant in the tenth +year of their marriage.</p> + +<p>The hatred which she nourished was directed against the power +loom. In her dreams she saw the machine as a monster with +thighs of steel, which screamed out its malignity and devoured the +hearts of men. She was embittered by the injustice of a process +which gave to impudence and sloth the product that had once come +thoughtfully and naturally from the careful hands of men.</p> + +<p>One journeyman after another had to be discharged, and one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>hand-loom after another to be stored in the attic. On many days +Marian would slip up the stairs and crouch for hours beside the +looms, which had once been set in motion by a determinable and +beneficent exertion and were like corpses now.</p> + +<p>Gottfried wandered across country, peddling the stock of goods +he had on hand. Once on his return he brought with him a piece +of machine-made cloth which a merchant of Nördlingen had given +him. “Look, Marian, see what sort of stuff it is,” he said, and +handed it to her. But Marian drew her hand away, and shuddered +as though she had seen the booty of a murderer.</p> + +<p>After the birth of her boy she lost these morbid feelings; Gottfried +on the other hand seemed to dwindle from month to month. +Though he outlasted the years, there was no cheer left in him and +he got no comfort even from his growing boy. When he had sold +all his own wares, he took those of others, and dragged himself +wearily in summer and winter from village to village.</p> + +<p>In spite of the scarcity that prevailed in the house, Marian was +convinced that Gottfried had put by money, and certain hints +which he threw out confirmed her in this hope. It was one of his +peculiar views that it was better to leave his wife in the dark regarding +the true state of their fortunes. As their circumstances +grew worse, he became wholly silent on this point.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>On the square of the grain merchants in Nuremberg, Jason +Philip Schimmelweis, the husband of Marian’s sister, had his bookbinder’s +shop.</p> + +<p>Schimmelweis was a Westphalian. Hatred against the junkers +and the priests had driven him to this Protestant city of the South, +where from the beginning he had acquired the respect of people +through his ready wit and speech. Theresa Höllriegel had lodged +in the house in which he opened his shop, and gained her living +as a seamstress. He had thought that she had some money, but it +had proved to be too little for his ambitious notions. When he +discovered that, he treated Theresa as though she had cheated him.</p> + +<p>He held his trade in contempt, and was ambitious of greater +things. He felt that he was called to be a bookseller; but he had +no capital wherewith to realise this plan. So he sat morosely in +his subterranean shop, pasted and folded and quarrelled with his +lot, and in his hours of leisure read the writings of socialists and +freethinkers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p><p>It was the Autumn in which the war against France was raging. +On that very morning had come the news of the battle of Sedan. +All the church bells were ringing.</p> + +<p>To the surprise of Jason Philip, Gottfried Nothafft stepped into +his shop. His long, patriarchal beard and tall stature gave something +venerable to his appearance, even though his face looked +tired and his eyes were dull.</p> + +<p>“God bless you, brother,” he said and held out his hand. “The +fatherland has better luck than its citizens.”</p> + +<p>Schimmelweis, who did not like the visits of kinsmen, returned +the salutation with careful coolness. His features did not brighten +until he heard that his brother-in-law was stopping at the Red +Cock Inn. He asked what errand had brought Gottfried to the +city.</p> + +<p>“I must have a talk with you,” Nothafft replied.</p> + +<p>They entered a room behind the shop and sat down. Jason +Philip’s eyes harboured even now a definitely negative answer to +any proposal that might cost him money or trouble. But he was +to be agreeably disappointed.</p> + +<p>“I want to tell you, brother,” Gottfried Nothafft said, “that +I have put by three thousand taler during the nineteen years of my +married life. And since I have the feeling that I am not long for +this world, I have come to ask you to take charge of the money +for Marian and the boy. It has been troublesome enough not to +touch it in these evil times that have come. Marian knows nothing +of it, and I don’t want her to know. She is a weak woman, and +women do not understand money nor the worth and dignity it has +when it has been earned so bitterly hard. In some hour of difficulty +she would begin to use it, and presently it would be gone. +But I want to ease Daniel’s entry into life, when his years of +training and apprenticeship are over. He is twelve now. In another +twelve years he will be, God willing, a man. You can help +Marian with the interest, and all I ask of you is to be silent and to +act a father’s part toward the boy when I shall be no more.”</p> + +<p>Jason Philip Schimmelweis arose. He was moved and wrung +Gottfried Nothafft’s hand. “You may rely upon me,” he said, “as +you would on the Bank of England.”</p> + +<p>“I thought that would be your answer, brother, and that is why +I came.”</p> + +<p>He put down on the table three thousand taler in bank notes +of the realm, and Jason Philip wrote out a receipt. Then he +urged him to stay that night at his house. But Gottfried Nothafft +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>said that he must return home to his wife and child, and that a +single night in the noisy city had been enough for him.</p> + +<p>When they returned to the shop, they found Theresa sitting there. +In her lap she held Philippina, her first-born, who was three years +old. The child had a large head and homely features. Gottfried +hardly stopped to answer his sister-in-law’s questions. Later Theresa +asked her husband what Gottfried’s business had been. Jason +Philip answered brusquely: “Nothing a woman would understand.”</p> + +<p>Three days later Gottfried sent back the receipt. On the back +of it he had written: “The paper is of no use; it might even betray +my secret. I have your word and your hand. That is enough. +With thanks for your friendship and your services, I am your +faithful kinsman, Gottfried Nothafft.”</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Before peace had been made with France, Gottfried lay down to +die. He was buried in the little churchyard by the wall, and a +cross was set upon his grave.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip and Theresa had come to the funeral, and stayed +for three days. An examination of her inheritance showed, to +Marian’s consternation, that there were not twenty taler in the +house, and what she saw ahead of her was a life of wretchedness +and want. Jason Philip’s counsel and his plan were a genuine +consolation to her, and his declaration that he would stand by her +to the best of his ability eased her heart.</p> + +<p>It was determined that she was to open a little shop, and Jason +advanced her one hundred taler. All the while he had the air of +a made man. He held his head high, and his fat little cheeks +glowed with health. He was fond of drumming with his fingers +on the window pane and of whistling. The tune he whistled +was the Marseillaise, but that tune was not known in Eschenbach.</p> + +<p>Daniel observed carefully his uncle’s lips, and whistled the tune +after him. Jason Philip laughed so that his little belly quivered. +Then he remembered that it was a house of mourning, and said: +“What a boy!”</p> + +<p>But really he did not like the boy. “Our excellent Gottfried +does not seem to have trained him carefully,” he remarked once, +when Daniel showed some childish recalcitrance. “The boy needs +a strong hand.”</p> + +<p>Daniel heard these words, and looked scornfully into his uncle’s +face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p><p>Sunday afternoon, when the coffee had been served, the Schimmelweis +couple was ready to leave. But Daniel was not to be +found. The wife of the inn-keeper called out across the road +that she had seen him follow the organist to church. Marian ran +to the church to fetch him. After a while she returned, and said +to Jason Philip, who was waiting: “He’s crouching in the organ +loft, and I can’t get him to move.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t get him to move?” Jason Philip started up, and his little +red cheeks gleamed with rage. “What does that mean? How +can you tolerate that?” And he himself proceeded to the church +to get the disobedient child.</p> + +<p>As he was mounting the organ-loft he met the organist, who +laughed and said: “I suppose you’re looking for Daniel? He’s +still staring at the organ, as though my bit of playing had bewitched +him.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll drive the witch-craft out of him,” Jason Philip snarled.</p> + +<p>Daniel was crouching on the floor behind the organ, and did not +stir at his uncle’s call. He was so absorbed that the expression of +his eyes made his uncle wonder whether the boy was really sane. +He grasped Daniel’s shoulder, and spoke in a tone of violent command: +“Come home with me this minute!”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked up, awoke from his dream, and became aware of +the indignant hiss of that alien voice. He tore himself away, and +declared insolently that he would stay where he was. That enraged +Jason Philip utterly, and he tried again to lay hands on the +boy in order to drag him down by force. Daniel leapt back, and +cried with a quivering voice: “Don’t touch me!”</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the silence of the nave that had an admonishing +and terrifying effect on Jason Philip. Perhaps the extraordinary +malignity and passion in the little fellow’s face caused him to +desist. At all events he turned around and went without another +word.</p> + +<p>“The stage-coach is waiting. We’ll be late!” his wife called +out to him.</p> + +<p>He turned a sinister face to Marian. “You’re bringing up a +fine product, I must say. You’ll have your own troubles with +him.”</p> + +<p>Marian’s eyes fell. She was not unprepared for the reproach. +She was herself frightened at the boy’s savage obduracy, his self-centred +insistence on his imaginings, his hardness and impatience +and contempt of all restraint. It seemed to her as though fate had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>inspired the soul of her child with something of the foolish and +torturing hatred which she had nursed during her pregnancy.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Jason Philip Schimmelweis left the dark basement on the square, +rented a shop near the bridge by the museum, and set up as a +bookseller. Thus his old ambition was realised at last.</p> + +<p>He hired a shop-assistant, and Theresa sat all day at the till and +learned to keep books.</p> + +<p>When she asked her husband what was the source of his capital, +he answered that a friend who had great confidence in his ability +had advanced him the money at a low rate of interest. He added +that he had been pledged not to divulge the name of his friend.</p> + +<p>Theresa did not believe him. Her mind was full of dark forebodings. +She brooded incessantly and grew to be watchful and +suspicious. In secret she tried to ferret out the identity of this +nameless friend, but came upon no trace. Now and then she +tried to cross-question Jason Philip. On such occasions he would +snarl at her malignantly. There was no talk of the return of the +money or of the payment of interest on it, nor did the books show +an entry of any sort. To rid herself of the anxieties that accompanied +her through the years, it would have been necessary for +Theresa to believe in helpful fairies. And she did not believe in +them.</p> + +<p>Nature had given her neither gaiety nor gentleness; under the +pressure of this insoluble mystery she became ill-tempered as a +wife and moody as a mother.</p> + +<p>When there were no customers in the shop she would pick up +books quite at random and read in them. Sometimes it was a novel +dealing with crime, sometimes a garrulous tract dealing with secret +vices. Such things were needed to attract a public that regarded +the buying of books as a sinful waste. Without special pleasure, +and with a morose sort of thirst for information, she read revelations +of court life and the printed betrayals of all kinds of spies, +adventurers, and rogues. Quite unconsciously she came to judge +the world to which she had no real access according to these books +which offered her as truth the issues of sick and pestilential minds.</p> + +<p>But as the years went on, and prosperity raised Jason Philip +definitely into the merchant class, he abandoned the shadier side +of his business. He was a man who knew his age and who unfurled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>his sails when he was sure of a favourable wind. He +entrusted his ship more and more to the ever swelling current of +the political parties of the proletariat, and hoped to find his profit +where, in a half-hearted way, his convictions lay. He exhibited +a rebel’s front to the middle-classes, and held out a hand of unctuous +fellowship to the toiler. He knew how to make his way! +Many an insignificant shop-keeper had been known to exchange +his musty rooms for a villa in the suburbs, to furnish it pretentiously, +and to send his sons on trips abroad.</p> + +<p>In these days, too, the old imperial city awoke from its romantic +slumber. Once the sublime churches, the lovely curves of the +bridges, and the quaint gables of the houses had formed an artistic +whole. Now they became mere remnants. Castle and walls and +mighty towers were ruins of an age of dreams now fortunately +past. Iron rails were laid on the streets and rusty chains with +strangely shaped lanterns were removed from the opening of +narrow streets. Factories and smoke-stacks surrounded the venerable +and picturesque city as an iron frame might surround the work +of some old master.</p> + +<p>“Modern man has got to have light and air,” said Jason Philip +Schimmelweis, and clinked the coins in his trousers pocket.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Daniel attended the <i>gymnasium</i> at Ansbach. He was to complete +the course of studies that would entitle him to the reduction +of his military service to one year and then enter business. This +had been agreed upon between Jason Philip and Marian.</p> + +<p>The boy’s zeal for study was small. His teachers shook their +heads. Their considerable experience of the world had never yet +offered them a being so constituted. He listened more eagerly +to the lowing of a herd of cows and to the twittering of the +sparrows than to the best founded principles of grammatical science. +Some of them thought him dull, others malicious. He passed +from class to class with difficulty and solely by virtue of a marvellous +faculty of guessing. At especially critical moments he was +saved through the help and advocacy of the music-master Spindler.</p> + +<p>The families who gave the poor student his meals complained +of his bad manners. The wife of Judge Hahn forbade him the +house on account of his boorish answers. “Beggars must not be +choosers,” she had called out after him.</p> + +<p>Spindler was a man who asserted quite correctly that he had been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>meant for better things than wearing himself out in a provincial +town. His white locks framed a face ennobled by the melancholy +that speaks of lost ideals and illusions.</p> + +<p>One summer morning Spindler had risen with the sun and gone +for a long walk in the country. When he reached the first barn +of the village of Dautenwinden he saw a company of strolling +musicians, who had played dance music the evening before and +far into the night, and who were now shaking from their hair and +garments the straw and chaff amid which they had slept. Above +them, under the open gable of the barn, Daniel Nothafft was +lying in the straw. With an absorbed and devout expression he +was seeking to elicit a melody from a flute which one of the +musicians had loaned him.</p> + +<p>Spindler stood still and looked up. The musicians laughed, but +he did not share in their merriment. A long while passed before +the unskilful player of the flute became aware of his teacher. +Then he climbed down and tried to steal away with a shy greeting. +Spindler stopped him. They walked on together, and Daniel confessed +that he had not been able to tear himself away from the +musicians since the preceding afternoon. The lad of fourteen was +not able to express his feeling; but it seemed to him as though a +higher power had forced him to breathe the same air at least with +those who made music.</p> + +<p>From that day on and for three years Daniel visited Spindler +twice a week, and was most thoroughly grounded in counterpoint +and harmony. The hours thus spent were both consecrated and +winged. Spindler found a peculiar happiness in nourishing a passion +whose development struck him as a reward for his many years +of toneless isolation. And though the desperateness of this passion, +though the rebelliousness and aimless wildness which streamed to +him not only from the character of his pupil but also from that +pupil’s first attempts at composition, gave him cause for anxiety, +yet he hoped always to soothe the boy by pointing to the high and +serene models and masters of his art.</p> + +<p>And so the time came in which Daniel was to earn his own +bread.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Spindler journeyed to Eschenbach to confer with Marian +Nothafft.</p> + +<p>The woman did not understand him. She felt tempted to laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p><p>Music had meant in her life the droning of a hurdy-gurdy, the +singing of a club of men, the marching of a military band. Was +her boy to wander from door to door and fiddle for pennies? +Spindler seemed a mere madman to her. She pressed her hands +together, and looked at him as at a man who was wasting trivial +words on a tragic disaster. The music-master realised that his +influence was as narrow as his world, and was forced to leave without +accomplishing anything.</p> + +<p>Marian wrote a letter to Jason Philip Schimmelweis.</p> + +<p>One could almost see Jason Philip worrying his reddish brown +beard with his nimble fingers and the scornful twinkling of his +eyes; one could almost hear the sharp, northern inflection of his +speech when his answer to Daniel arrived: “I expected nothing else +of you than that it would be your dearest wish to be a wastrel. +My dear boy, either you buckle under and make up your mind to +become a decent member of society, or I leave you both to your +own devices. There is no living in selling herrings and pepper, +and so you will kindly imagine for yourself the fate of your +mother, especially if a parasite like yourself clings to her.”</p> + +<p>Daniel tore up the letter into innumerable bits and let them +flutter out into the wind. His mother wept.</p> + +<p>Then he went out into the forest, wandered about till nightfall, +and slept in the hollow of a tree.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>One might go on and tell the tale of continued rebellion, of +angry words on both sides, of pleas and complaints and fruitless +arguments, of bitter controversy and yet bitterer silence.</p> + +<p>Daniel fled and returned and let the slothful days glide by, +stormed about in the vicinity, and lay in the high grass beside the +pools or opened his window at night, cursing the silence and envying +the clouds their speed.</p> + +<p>His mother followed him when he went to his little room and +pressed her ear to the door, and then entered and saw the candle +still lit, and went to his bed and was frightened at his gleaming +eyes which grew sombre at her approach. Full of the memories +of her early cares and fears for him, and thinking that the darkness +and the sight of her weakness would prevail upon him, she pleaded +and begged once more. And he looked up at her and something +broke in his soul, and he promised to do as she demanded.</p> + +<p>So we see him next at the house of the leather merchant Hamecher +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>in Ansbach. He sits on a bale of leather in the long, dismal +passage way or on the cellar steps or in the store room, and dreams +and dreams and dreams. And gradually the worthy Hamecher’s +indulgent surprise turned to blank astonishment and then to indignation, +and at the end of six months he showed the useless fellow +the door.</p> + +<p>Once more Jason Philip condescended to grant his favour, and +chose a new scene and new people for his nephew, if only to +remove him from Spindler’s baneful influence. At the mention +of the city of Bayreuth no one became aware of Daniel’s fiery +ecstasy, for they had never heard of the name of Richard Wagner +but always of the name of the wine merchant Maier. And so he +came to Bayreuth, the Jerusalem of his yearning, and forced himself +to an appearance of industry in order to remain in that spot +where sun and air and earth and the very beasts and stones and +refuse breathe that music of which Spindler had said that he himself +had a profound presentiment of its nature but was too old to +grasp and love it wholly.</p> + +<p>Daniel did his best to make himself useful. But in spite of +himself he scrawled music notes on the invoices, roared strange +melodies in lonely vaults, and let the contents of a whole keg of +wine leak out, because in front of him, on the floor, lay the score +of the English Suites.</p> + +<p>At a rehearsal he slipped into the Festival Playhouse, but was put +out by a zealous watchman, and on this occasion made the acquaintance +of Andreas Döderlein, who was a professor at the Nuremberg +conservatory and a tireless apostle of the redeemer. Döderlein +seemed not disinclined to understand and to help, and expressed a +real delight at the deep, original enthusiasm and burning devotion +of his protégé. And Daniel, intoxicated by a rather vague and not +at all binding promise of a scholarship at the conservatory, fled +from Bayreuth by night, made his way on foot back to Eschenbach, +threw himself at his mother’s feet, and almost writhed there before +her and begged and implored her, and in words almost wild sought +to prevail on her to attempt to change the mind of Jason Philip. +He tried to explain to her that his life and happiness, his very blood +and heart were dedicated to this one thing. But she, who was once +kindly, was now hard—hard as stone, cold as ice. She understood +nothing, felt nothing, believed nothing, saw only the frightfulness, +as she called it, of his incurable aberration.</p> + +<p>All these matters might have been related at length. But they +are as inevitable in their character and sequence as the sparks and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>smoke that follow upon fire. They are quite determinable; they +have often happened, and have always had the same final effect.</p> + +<p>What clung to Marian’s soul was an immemorial prejudice +against a gipsy’s life and a stroller’s fate. Her ancestors and her +husband’s had always earned their livelihood in the honest ways +of a trade. She could not see what the free tuition at Döderlein’s +conservatory would avail Daniel, since he had nothing wherewithal +to sustain life. He told her that Spindler had taught him +how to play on the piano, that he would perfect his skill and so +earn his sustenance. She shook her head. Then he spoke to her +of the greatness of art, of the ecstasy which an artist could communicate +and the immortality he might win, and that perhaps it +would be granted him to create something unique and incomparable. +But these words she thought mad and pretentious delusions, and +smiled contemptuously. And at that his soul turned away from her, +and she seemed a mother to him no more.</p> + +<p>When Jason Philip Schimmelweis learned what was afoot, he +would not let the troublesome journey deter him, but appeared in +Marian’s shop like an avenging angel. Daniel feared him no +longer, since he had given up hoping for anything from him. He +laughed to himself at the sight of the stubby, short-necked man in +his rage. Gleams of mockery and of cunning still played over the +red cheeks of Jason Philip, for he had a very high opinion of +himself, and did not think the windy follies of a boy of nineteen +worthy of the whole weight of his personality.</p> + +<p>While he talked his little eyes sparkled, and his red, little tongue +pushed away the recalcitrant hairs of his moustache from his +voluble lips. Daniel stood by the door, leaning against the post, +his arms folded across his chest, and regarded now his mother, who, +dumb and suddenly old, sat in a corner of the sofa, now the oil +portrait of his father on the opposite wall. A friend of Gottfried +Nothafft’s youth, a painter who had been long lost and forgotten +like his other works, had once painted it. It showed a man of +serious bearing, and brought to mind the princely guildsman of +the Middle Ages. Seeing the picture at that moment enlightened +Daniel as to the ancestral strain that had brought him to this mood +and to this hour.</p> + +<p>And turning now once more to Jason Philip’s face, he thought he +perceived in it the restlessness of an evil conscience. It seemed to +him that this man was not acting from conviction but from an +antecedent determination. It seemed to him further that he was +faced, not merely by this one man and his rage and its accidental +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>causes, but by a whole world in arms that was pledged to enmity +against him. He had no inclination now to await the end of Jason +Philip’s oratorical efforts, and left the room.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip grew pale. “Don’t let us deceive ourselves, +Marian,” he said. “You have nursed a viper on your bosom.”</p> + +<p>Daniel stood by the Wolfram fountain in the square, and let the +purple of the setting sun shine upon him. Round about him the +stones and the beams of the ancient houses glowed, and the maids +who came with pails to fetch water at the fountain gazed with +astonishment into the brimming radiance of the sky. At this hour +his native town grew very dear to Daniel. When Jason Philip +entered the square, at the corner of which the stage-coach was +waiting, he did his best not to be seen by Daniel and avoided him +in a wide semi-circle. But Daniel turned around and fastened +his eyes on the man, who strode rapidly and gazed stubbornly +aside.</p> + +<p>This thing too has happened before and will happen again. Nor +is it amazing that the fugitive should turn and inspire terror in +his pursuer.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>Daniel saw that he could not stay to be a burden to his mother +with her small resources. She was poor and dependent on the +judgment of a tyrannical kinsman. Mastering his passionate impulses, +he forced himself to cool reflection and made a plan. He +would have to work and earn so much money that after a year +or more he would be able to go to Andreas Döderlein and remind +him of his magnanimous offer. So he studied the advertisements +in the papers and wrote letters of application. A printer in Mannheim +wanted an assistant correspondent. Since he agreed to take +the small wage offered, he was summoned to that city. Marian +gave him his railway fare.</p> + +<p>He endured the torment for three months. Then it grew unbearable. +For seven months he slaved for an architect in Stuttgart, +next four months for the municipal bath in Baden-Baden, finally +for six weeks in a cigarette factory in Kaiserslautern.</p> + +<p>He lived like a dog. In terror of having to spend money, he +avoided all human intercourse. He was unspeakably lonely. +Hunger and self-denial made him as lean as a rope. His cheeks +grew hollow, his limbs trembled in their sockets. He patched +his own clothes, and to save his shoes hammered curved bits of iron +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>to the heels and toes. His aim sustained him; Andreas Döderlein +beckoned in the distance.</p> + +<p>Every night he counted the sum he had saved so far. And +when at last, after sixteen months of self-denial, he had a fortune +of two hundred marks, he thought he could risk the fateful step. +As he reckoned and according to his present standard of life, he +thought that this money would last him five months. Within +that period new sources might open. He had come to know many +people and had experienced many circumstances, but in reality he +had known no one and experienced nothing, for he had stood in +the world like a lantern with a covered light. With an enormous +expenditure of energy he had restrained his mind from its native +activity. He had throttled it for the sake of its future. Hence +his whole soul had now the temperature of a blast furnace.</p> + +<p>On his trip his fare was the accustomed one of dry bread and +cheese. He had made a package of his few books and his music, +and had despatched it in care of the railway station in Nuremberg. +It was early spring. In fair weather he slept in the open. When +it rained he took refuge in barns. A little bundle was his pillow +and his ragged top-coat shielded him from frost. Not rarely +farmers received him in kindly fashion and gave him a meal. +Now and then a tramping apprentice joined him. But his silence +did not invite companionship.</p> + +<p>Once in the neighbourhood of Kitzingen he came upon a high +fenced park. Under a maple tree in the park sat a young girl in +a white dress reading a book. A voice called: “Sylvia!” Thereupon +the girl arose, and with unforgettable grace of movement +walked deeper into the garden.</p> + +<p>And Daniel thought: Sylvia! A sound as though from a better +world. He shuddered. Was it to be his lot to stand without +a gate of life that gave everything to the eyes and nothing to the +hands?</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>He sought out Andreas Döderlein at once. He was told that the +professor was not in town. Two weeks later he stood once more +before the old house. He was told that the professor could not be +seen to-day. He was discouraged. But out of loyalty to his +cause he returned at the end of three days and was received.</p> + +<p>He entered an overheated room. The professor was sitting in +an arm chair. On his knees was his little, eight-year-old daughter; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>in his right arm he held a large doll. The white tiles of the +stove were adorned with pictured scenes from the Nibelungen +legend; table and chairs were littered with music scores; the +windows had leaded panes; in one corner there was a mass of artfully +grouped objects—peacocks’ feathers, gay-coloured silks, +Chinese fans. This combination was known as a Makart bouquet, +and represented the taste of the period.</p> + +<p>Döderlein put the little girl down and gave her her doll. Then +he drew himself up to the fulness of his gigantic stature, a process +that gave him obvious pleasure. His neck was so fat that his chin +seemed to rest on a gelatinous mass.</p> + +<p>He seemed not to recall Daniel. Cues had to be given him to +distinguish this among his crowded memories. He snapped his +fingers. It was a sign that his mind had reached the desired place. +“Ah, yes, yes, yes! To be sure, to be sure, my dear young man! +But what do you suppose? Just now when all available space is +as crowded as a street strewn with crumbs is crowded with sparrows. +We might take the matter up again in autumn. Yes, in autumn +something might be done.”</p> + +<p>A pause, during which the great man gave inarticulate sounds of +profound regret. And was the young man, after all, so sure of a +genuine talent? Had he considered that art was becoming more +and more an idling place for the immature and the shipwrecked? +It was so difficult to tell the sheep from the goats. And finally, +granting talent, how was the young man equipped in the matter +of moral energy? There, indisputably, the core of the problem +was to be sought. Or didn’t he, perhaps, think so?</p> + +<p>As through a fog Daniel observed that the little girl had approached +him and looked him over with a curiously cold and +testing glance. Almost he was impelled to stretch out his hand +and cover the eyes of the child, whose manner was uncanny to him +through some ghostly presentiment.</p> + +<p>“I’m truly sorry that I can’t give you a more encouraging outlook.” +Andreas Döderlein’s voice was oily, and showed a conscious +delight in its own sound. “But as I said, there’s nothing to be +done until autumn. Suppose you leave me your address. Put it +down on this slip. No? Well, quite as you wish. Good-bye, +young man, good-bye.”</p> + +<p>Döderlein accompanied him to the door. Then he returned +to his daughter, took her on his knee, picked up the doll, and said: +“Human beings, my dear Dorothea, are a wretched set. If I were +to compare them to sparrows on the road, I should be doing the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>sparrows but little honour. Heavens and earth! Wouldn’t even +write his name on a slip of paper. Felt hurt! Well, well, well. +What funny creatures men are. Wouldn’t leave his name. Well, +well.”</p> + +<p>He hummed the Walhalla motif, and Dorothea, bending over +her doll, coquettishly kissed the waxen face.</p> + +<p>Daniel, standing in front of the house, bit his lips like a man +in a fever who does not want his teeth to rattle. Why, the depth +of his soul asked him, why did you sit in their counting-houses and +waste their time? Why did you crucify your body and bind my +wings? Why were you deaf to me and desirous of gathering +fruits where there are only stones? Why did you, like a coward, +flee from your fate to their offices and ware-houses and iron safes +and all their doleful business? For the sake of this hour? Poor +fool!</p> + +<p>And he answered: “Never again, my soul, never again.”</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>In the beginning Marian had received a letter from Daniel +every now and then. These letters became rarer. During the +second year he wrote only once—a few lines at Christmas.</p> + +<p>At the time when he was leaving his last place of employment +he wrote her on a postcard that he was changing his residence again. +But he did not tell her that he was going to Nuremberg. So spring +passed and summer. Then her soul, which was wavering between +fear and hope, was rudely jolted out of its dim state by a letter +from Jason Philip.</p> + +<p>He wrote that Daniel was loafing about in Nuremberg. Quite by +accident he had met him a few days before near the fair booths +on Schütt Island. His appearance was indescribable. He had +tried to question him, but Daniel had disappeared. What had +brought him to the city he, Jason Philip, could not see. But he +was willing to wager that at the bottom of it was some shady trick, +for the fellow had not looked like one who earns an honest living. +So he proposed to Marian that she should come to Nuremberg and +help in a raid on the vagabond, in order to prevent the unblemished +name he bore from being permanently disgraced before it was too +late. As a contribution to her travelling expenses he enclosed five +marks in stamps.</p> + +<p>Marian had received the letter at noon. She had at once locked +up her house and shop. At two o’clock she had reached the station +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>at Ansbach; at four she arrived in Nuremberg. Carrying +her hand-bag, she asked her way to Plobenhof Street at every +corner.</p> + +<p>Theresa sat at the cashier’s desk. Her brown hair on her square +peasant’s skull was smoothly combed. Zwanziger, the freckled +shop-assistant, was busy unpacking books. Theresa greeted her sister +with apparent friendliness, but she did not leave her place. She +stretched out her hand across the ink-stand, and observed Marian’s +shabby appearance—the worn shawl, the old-fashioned little cloth +bonnet with its black velvet ribbands meeting in a bow under the +chin.</p> + +<p>“Go upstairs for a bit,” she said, “and let the children entertain +you. Rieke will bring up your bag.”</p> + +<p>“Where is your husband?” asked Marian.</p> + +<p>“At an electors’ meeting,” Theresa answered morosely. “They +couldn’t meet properly, according to him, if he isn’t there.”</p> + +<p>At that moment a man in a workingman’s blouse entered the +shop and began to talk to Theresa urgently in a soft but excited +voice. “I bought the set of books and they’re my property,” said +the man. “Suppose I did skip a payment. That’s no reason to +lose my property. I call that sharp practice, Frau Schimmelweis, +that’s what I call it.”</p> + +<p>“What did Herr Wachsmuth buy of us?” Theresa turned to the +shop-assistant.</p> + +<p>“Schlosser’s ‘History of the World,’” was the prompt answer.</p> + +<p>“Then you’d better read your contract,” Theresa said to the workingman. +“The terms are all fixed there.”</p> + +<p>“That’s sharp practice, Frau Schimmelweis, sharp practice,” the +man repeated, as though this phrase summed up all he could express +in the way of withering condemnation. “A fellow like me +wants to get on and wants to learn something. All right. So I +think I’ll buy me a book and get a step ahead in knowledge. So +where do I go? To a party member, to Comrade Schimmelweis, +thinking natural-like I’m safe in his hands. I pay sixty marks—hard +earned money—for a history of the world, and manage to +squeeze the payments out o’ my wages, and then, all of a sudden, +when half the price is paid, I’m to have my property taken from me +without so much as a by your leave just because I’m two payments in +arrears.”</p> + +<p>“Read your contract,” said Theresa. “Every point is stipulated.”</p> + +<p>“No wonder people get rich,” the man went on. His voice grew +louder and louder, and he glanced angrily at Jason Philip, who at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>that moment rushed into the shop with his hat crushed and his +trousers sprinkled with mud. “No wonder that people can buy +houses and speculate in real estate. Yes, Schimmelweis, I call such +things sharp practice, and I don’t give a damn for your contract. +Everybody knows by this time what kind of business is done here—more +like a man-trap—and that these here instalments are just a +scheme to squeeze the workingman dry. First you talk to him +about education, and then you suck his blood. It’s hell!”</p> + +<p>“Pull yourself together, Wachsmuth!” Jason Philip cried sternly.</p> + +<p>Wachsmuth picked up his cap, and slammed the shopdoor behind +him.</p> + +<p>Marian Nothafft’s eyes passed mechanically over the titles of +a row of fiercely red pamphlets spread out on a table. She read: +“The Battle that Decides,” “Modern Slaveholders,” “The Rights +of the Poor,” “Christianity and Capitalism,” “The Crimes of the +Bourgeoisie.” Although these catch-words meant nothing to her, +she felt in her heart once more her old, long forgotten hatred +against machines.</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>“Fetch me a sandwich, Theresa,” Jason Philip commanded, “I’m +hungry as a wolf.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you eat anything at the inn?” Theresa asked suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“I was at no such place.” Jason Philip’s eyes gleamed, and he +shook his head like a lion.</p> + +<p>So Theresa went to fetch his sandwich. It was queer to observe +how much distrust and contradiction she was able to express through +the sloth of her movements. But her daughter Philippina was already +hurrying down the stairs with the sandwich.</p> + +<p>At this moment Jason Philip became aware of his sister-in-law. +“Ah, there you are, you shrinking flower,” he said lightly, and +held out his pudgy hand. “Theresa will put you up in the little +room under the store-room. You have a pleasant view of the river +there.”</p> + +<p>Theresa handed him the bread. He sniffed at it, and frowned +because it wasn’t thickly enough buttered. But he had not the +courage to complain. He bit into it, and, with full cheeks, turned +once more to Marian.</p> + +<p>“Well, that son of yours has disappeared again. A nice situation. +Shouldn’t wonder if he ended in the penitentiary. The best +thing would be to ship him off to America; but it isn’t clear to me +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>how we’re to get hold of him at all. It was really premature to +ask you to come.”</p> + +<p>“If only I knew what he’s living on,” Marian whispered, with +repressed anguish.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip indulged with broad psychical comfort in an +anecdote: “I was reading the other day how a giraffe escaped from +the Zoo. You’ve heard of giraffes. They are long-necked quadrupeds, +very stupid and stubborn. The silly beast had run off into +the woods, and the people didn’t know how to capture it. Then +the keeper hung the stable-lantern over his chest and a bundle of +hay on his back, and at nightfall went into the woods. Scarcely +had the giraffe noticed the gleam of the lantern when it came up +in its curiosity. At once the man swung around. It smelled the +hay, nibbled, and began to feed. Slowly the man went on, and +the beast went on nibbling and feeding. First thing you know +it was back in its cage. Now don’t you think that when hunger +begins to torment him, your Daniel could be tamed with a bit +of hay too? It’s worth your thinking about.”</p> + +<p>Jason Philip laughed merrily, and Zwanziger grinned. His boss +was a source of humour. At night, when he sat in his favourite +tap-rooms over his beer, he would entertain his boon companions +with the witticisms of Schimmelweis, and always won their applause.</p> + +<p>A lean old man with kid gloves and a top-hat entered the shop. +It was growing dark, and he had peered carefully about before +entering. He hurried up to Jason Philip, and said in a cracked +falsetto: “How about the new publications? Anything very fine?” +He rubbed his hands, and stared stupidly from under his thin, reddish +lids. It was Count Schlemm-Nottheim, a cousin of the Baron +von Auffenberg, the leader of the liberal party.</p> + +<p>“I’m entirely at your service, sir,” said Jason Philip, holding +himself as rigidly as a sergeant who is being addressed by a captain.</p> + +<p>He led the count to a corner of the shop, and opened a heavy +oaken chest. This chest contained the pornographic publications +forbidden by the state. They were sold quite secretly and only +to very reliable persons.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip whispered, and the old count turned over the heap +of books with avid fingers.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>Marian climbed up the steep, dark stairs, and rang the upstairs +bell. She had to tell the maid who she was and even mention her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>name to the children. The latter laughed at her stiff, rural courtesy. +Philippina, who was twelve, acted arrogantly and swung her +hips when she walked. All three had their mother’s square head +and a cheesy complexion.</p> + +<p>The maid brought up the bag. Then Theresa came too and +helped her sister unpack. With her acrid, unfeeling voice she asked +many questions, but without waiting for an answer told the tale of +marriage and births and deaths that had taken place in the city. +She avoided Marian’s eyes, because she was silently considering how +long her sister’s visit would last and to what expense it would put +her.</p> + +<p>She did not mention Daniel, and her silence condemned him +more completely than her husband’s acrimonious speeches. She +held firmly an almost religious doctrine of the complete obedience +which children owe their parents, and doubted Marian’s power to +punish properly a breach of this sacred law.</p> + +<p>When Marian was left alone, she sat down by the window of +the little room, and gazed sadly down at the river. Without any +curl of waves the yellow water glided by and washed the walls +of the houses on the other bank. She had a view of the Museum +Bridge and another bridge, and the crowding of people on the +bridges disquieted her.</p> + +<p>She walked through the streets, and stopped at the head of the +Museum Bridge. She thought that every human being who lived +in the town must pass by here sooner or later. Her attentive +glance searched all faces, and where one escaped, she followed the +figure as it melted into the dark. But as it grew later the people +were fewer and fewer.</p> + +<p>At night she would lie awake, and listen to the dull echo of the +feet of the last passerby. Next day from morning to twilight she +would wander up and down the streets. What she saw weighed on +her heart. The city people seemed to her like dumb animals, +tormented and angry. The narrow streets stopped her breath; the +hubbub deadened her senses.</p> + +<p>But she was never tired of seeking.</p> + +<p>On the fifth day she did not come home until ten o’clock. +Theresa, who had gone to bed, sent her a plate of lentil soup. +While she was avidly eating the soup she heard steps in the hall and +a knock at the door. Jason Philip entered. “Come along at once,” +was all he said. But she understood. With trembling fingers she +threw a shawl across her shoulders, since the October nights were +growing cool, and followed him in silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p><p>They went up hill to Adler Street, turned into it and then into a +narrow, dark little alley at the right. A lantern hung above a +door and on a green glass pane were inscribed the words: “The +Vale of Tears.” A greenish light suffused the stone stairs that led +to the cellar, the kegs and the desolate room filled with chairs and +benches. A sourish smell of wine arose from the place.</p> + +<p>Beside the entrance there was a barred window. Beside it Jason +Philip stopped, and beckoned Marian to join him.</p> + +<p>At the long tables below them sat a queer crowd. They were +young men, but such as one never finds in ordinary houses and only +very rarely in the streets. Want seemed to have driven them to +huddle here, and the night to have lured them from their hiding +places—shipwrecked creatures they seemed who had fled to a cavern +on some deserted shore. They had absurdly gay cravats and sad, +pallid faces, and the greenish light made them look altogether like +corpses. It was long since a barber had touched their hair or a +tailor their garb.</p> + +<p>A little aside from these sat two old fellows, habitual topers, +not in the best circumstances themselves, yet rather astonished at +this dreary Stygian crew. For they themselves at least received +their weekly wage of a Saturday night, while those others had +obviously for years not worked at all.</p> + +<p>But in a dusky corner sat one at a piano and struck the keys with +a strange might. He had no score before him, but played from +memory. The instrument moaned; the strings hummed pitifully; +the pedals creaked; but the man who played was so bewitched by +his music that he cared little for the inadequacy of its communication. +Wild as the tumult of the playing sounded, the shrill and +raging chords, the wild clamour of the treble, the driven triplets +and seething tremolos of the bass, yet the deep emotion of the +player, the ecstasy and world-estranged madness in which he was, +lent the scene a melancholy and a solemnity which would have had +its effect even without the greenish cellar and the cavernous pallor +of the listeners.</p> + +<p>Marian had at once recognised the pianist as Daniel. She had +to hold fast to the bars of the window and lean her knees against +the wainscoting. It was not for nothing that Jason Philip was +known as a thorough wag. The comparison to Daniel in the lion’s +den was too much for him. He whispered the words to Marian. +But since the window was open and the music had first risen and +then, at this moment, paused, his words penetrated to the people +below, and several heads turned toward him. Marian was thoughtless. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>She believed that the piece had ended. Faintly and fearfully +she cried: “Daniel!”</p> + +<p>Daniel leaped up, stared at her, saw Jason Philip’s mocking face, +hastened to the door, the steps, and was beside them.</p> + +<p>He stood in the doorway, and his lips began to form words. +The unhappy boy, she thought, and it seemed to her as though +power would be given her to press back to his heart the words she +trembled to hear.</p> + +<p>It was in vain. The words were uttered. He did not wish to +see his mother any more; he was content to live alone and for himself +and to be free. He needed no one. He needed only to +be free.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip hurled a glance of contempt at the blasphemous +wretch, and drew Marian away with him. To the very corner of +the alley they were accompanied by the excited voices of the +people in the Vale of Tears.</p> + +<p>Next morning Marian returned to Eschenbach.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span><a name="FOES_BROTHERS_A_FRIEND_AND_A_MASK" id="FOES_BROTHERS_A_FRIEND_AND_A_MASK"></a>FOES, BROTHERS, A FRIEND AND A MASK</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">Daniel</span> had rented a room of the brush-maker Hadebusch and +his wife, who lived on Jacob’s Square behind the church.</p> + +<p>It was March, and a sudden cold had set in; and Frau Hadebusch +had a superstitious fear of coal, which she characterised as Devil’s +dung. At the back of the yard was the wood pile, and logs were +brought in with which to feed the oven fires. But wood was dear, +and had Daniel fed his little iron stove in the garret with such +costly food, his monthly bill would have reached a fabulous height. +He paid seven marks a month for his room and counted every +penny so as not to shorten the period of his liberty by any needless +expenditure.</p> + +<p>So he sat freezing over his books and scores until the first warmth +of spring stole in through the windows. The books he borrowed +from the library at the King’s Gate, and paid six pfennigs a +volume. Achim von Arnim and Jean Paul were his guides in those +days: the one adorned the world of the senses for him, the other +that of the soul.</p> + +<p>On the police department’s identification blank Daniel had called +himself a musician. Frau Hadebusch brought the paper into her +living room, which, like all the rooms of the house, seemed built +for dwarfs and reeked of limewater and lye. It was at the day’s +end, and in the room were assembled Herr Francke and Herr +Benjamin Dorn, who lodged on the second floor, and Frau Hadebusch’s +son, who was weak-minded and crouched grinning beside +the stove.</p> + +<p>Herr Francke was a town traveller for a cigar house, and was +regarded as a good deal of a Don Juan by the female servants of +the neighbourhood. Benjamin Dorn was a clerk in the Prudentia +Life Insurance Company, belonged to a Methodist congregation, and +was respected by all the respectable on account of his Christian walk +and conversation.</p> + +<p>These gentlemen examined the document thoroughly and with +frowns. Herr Francke gave it as his opinion that a musician who +never made music could scarcely be regarded as one.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p><p>“He’s probably pawned his bass violin or bugle or whatever he +was taught,” he said contemptuously; “perhaps he can only beat +a drum. Well, I can do that too if I have one.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you’ve got to have a drum to be a drummer,” Benjamin +Dorn remarked. “The question, however, is whether such a calling +is in harmony with the principles of Christian modesty.” He +laid his finger on his nose, and added: “It is a question which, with +all proper humility, all proper humility, you understand, I would +answer in the negative.”</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t any relatives and no acquaintances at all,” Frau +Hadebusch wailed, and her voice sounded like the scraping of +carrots on a grater; “and no employment and no prospects and no +boots or clothes but what he’s got on. In all my life I haven’t +had no such lodger.”</p> + +<p>The blank fluttered to the floor, whence the weak-minded Hadebusch +Jr. picked it up, rolled it in the shape of a bag, and applied +that bag, trumpet-like, to his lips, a procedure which caused the +document in question to be gradually soaked through and thus +withdrawn from its official uses. Frau Hadebusch was too little +concerned over the police regulations to take further thought of +her duties as the keeper of a lodging house.</p> + +<p>Herr Francke drew from his pocket a pack of greasy cards and +began to shuffle them. Frau Hadebusch giggled and it sounded like +a witch rustling in the fire. The Methodist conquered his pious +scruples, and placed his pfennigs on the table; the town-traveller +turned up his sleeves as though he were about to wring a hen’s +neck.</p> + +<p>Before very long there arose a dissonant controversy, since Herr +Francke’s relations with the goddess of fortune were strained and +violent. The old brush-maker poked his head in at the door and +cursed; the weak-minded boy blew dreamily on his paper trumpet; +and the company that had been so peacefully at one separated in +violence and rage.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Daniel wandered up to the castle, along the walls, over the +bridges and planks.</p> + +<p>It was his youth that caused him so to love the night that he +forgot all men and seemed to himself to be alone on earth. It was +his youth that delivered him up to things with such passion that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>he was able to weave the ghostly flowers of melodies about all +that is visible—melodies that were so delicate, so eloquent, and so +winged that no pen could ever record them. They vanished and +died whenever he sought to capture them.</p> + +<p>But it was also his youth that fired his eyes with hatred when +he saw the comfort of lit windows, and filled his heart with bitterness +against the satisfied, the indifferent, the strangers, the eternal +strangers who had no consciousness of him.</p> + +<p>He was so small and so great: small in the eyes of the world, +great in his own estimation. When the tones burst from him like +sparks from an anvil, he was a god. When he stood in the dark +court behind the City Theatre waiting for the final chorus of +“Fidelio” to penetrate the wall and reach his grateful ears, he was +an outcast. Fountains of music rustled all about him. He looked +into the eyes of the children and there was melody; he gazed up at +the stars and there was harmony. He finally came to the point +where there was no limit. His day was a waste place, his brain +a parched field in the rain, his thoughts were birds of passage, his +dreams a super-life.</p> + +<p>He lived on bread and fruit, treating himself only every third +day to a warm meal in the inn at the sign of the White Tower. +There he would sit and listen at times, unobserved, to the quite +remarkable conversation of some young fellows. This awakened +in him a longing for intercourse with congenial companions. But +when the brethren of the Vale of Tears finally took him into +their circle, he was like a Robinson Crusoe or a Selkirk who had +been abducted from his island.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Benjamin Dorn was a compassionate individual. The desire to +save a lost soul filled him with the courage to pay Daniel Nothafft +a visit. He hobbled up the creaky steps with his club-foot, and +knocked timidly at the door.</p> + +<p>“Can I be of service to you, Sir, in a Christian way?” he asked, +after he had blown his nose.</p> + +<p>Daniel looked at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>“You know, I could help you in an unselfish, Christian way, +to get a position. There is a great deal of work to be done down +at the Prudentia. If I were to recommend you to Herr Zittel +it certainly would not be in vain. Herr Zittel is head of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>clerical department. I also stand in with Herr Diruf, and he is +general agent. I come in contact nearly every day with Inspector +Jordan, and Herr Jordan is a man of exceptional culture. His +daughter Gertrude attended my Sunday-school class. She has +received and still enjoys divine favour. If you were to entrust +your case to me, you would be entering upon a righteous, wholesome +career. I am always looking out for some one. To tell the +truth, and not wishing to appear immodest, I was born that way.”</p> + +<p>The man looked like a patchwork of qualmishness, tribulation, +and unctuous piety, and his coat collar was badly frayed.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” replied Daniel; “don’t you see that I am +getting along quite well?”</p> + +<p>The pious life-insurance agent sighed and brushed a drop from +the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. “My dear Sir,” +said he, “take to heart the words of Solomon: Pride goeth before +a fall, but the humble in spirit obtain honour.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ll take that to heart,” said Daniel drily, and bent still +lower over the score on which he was working.</p> + +<p>Benjamin Dorn sighed again, and limped out of the room. +With his thumbs pointing straight to high heaven above, he said to +Frau Hadebusch: “You know, Frau Hadebusch, I simply can’t help +it. I must lighten my heart in a Christian way. What do you +think?”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens, what’s he doing? What’s he up to now?” +sighed the old lady, as she shoved her broom under her arm.</p> + +<p>“As true as I stand here, the table is all covered with papers, +and the papers are all covered with some kind of mysterious +signs.”</p> + +<p>Alarmed at the very thought of having a lodger up in the attic +who was practising black magic, Frau Hadebusch sent her husband +down to the district policeman. This enlightened official declared +that the brush-maker was a gossip. Vexed at this unanticipated +description of himself, the brush-maker went straightway to the +inn at the sign of the Horse and got drunk, so drunk that Benjamin +Dorn had to take him home. It was a beautiful moonlit +night.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Not far from Hadebusch’s was a little café known as The Paradise. +Everything in it was diminutive, the proprietor, the waitress, +the tables, the chairs and the portions. There the brethren from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>the Vale of Tears assembled to drag the gods down into the dust +and destroy the universe in general.</p> + +<p>Daniel wended his way thither. He knew the liliputian +room and the starved faces. He was personally acquainted with +the painter who never painted, the writer who never wrote, the +student who never studied, and the inventor who never invented +anything. He knew all about the sculptor who squandered such +talents as he may have had in tinkering with plaster casts, the +actor who had been on a leave of absence for years, and the half +dozen mendicant Philistines who came here day after day to have +a good time in their own repelling fashion. He knew the young +Baron von Auffenberg who had broken with his family for reasons +that were clear to no one but himself. He knew Herr Carovius, +who invariably played the rôle of the observer, and who sat there +in a sort of mysterious fashion, smiling to himself a smile of languishing +irony, and stroking his hand over his long hair, which +was cut straight across at the back of his neck.</p> + +<p>He knew, ah, he knew by heart, the grease spots on the walls +that had been rubbed in by the heads of the habitués, the indelible +splotches on the tables, the hartshorn buttons on the proprietor’s +vest, and the smoke-coloured curtains draped about the tiny windows. +The loud, boisterous talking, the daily repetition of the +same hackneyed remarks, the anarchistic swashbuckling of the +painter whom his comrades had dubbed Kropotkin—all of these +were familiar stories to him. He knew the philosophic cynicism +of the student who felt that he was the Socrates of the nineteenth +century, and who looked back on twenty-five wasted semesters as +on so many battles fought and won.</p> + +<p>The most interesting personage was Herr Carovius. He was a +well-read man. That he knew a great deal about music was plain +from many of his chance remarks. He was a brother-in-law of +Andreas Döderlein, though he seemed to take anything but pride +in the relationship. If any one mentioned Döderlein’s name in his +presence, he screwed up his face, and began to shuffle about uneasily +on his chair. He was an unfathomable, impenetrable personality. +Even if his years—he was forty-five—had not won for him a +measure of esteem, the malicious and mordant scorn he heaped on +his fellow-men would have done so. People said he had a good +deal of money. If this was brought to his attention, he employed +the most ghastly oaths in asserting his poverty. But since he had +neither calling nor profession and spent his days in unqualified +idleness, it was apparent that his assertions on this point were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>wholly unfounded, and this despite the virility of his unconventional +language.</p> + +<p>“Say, tell me, who is that lanky quack there?” asked Herr +Carovius, pointing to Daniel and looking at Schwalbe the sculptor. +He had known Daniel for a long while, but every now and then +it gave him a peculiar kind of pleasure to play the rôle of the +newcomer.</p> + +<p>The sculptor looked at him indignantly.</p> + +<p>“That is a man who still has faith in himself,” he remarked +rather morosely. “He is a man who has bathed in the dragon +blood of illusions, and has become as invulnerable as Young Siegfried. +He is convinced that the people who sleep in the houses +around this part of town dream of his future greatness, and have +already placed an order with the green-grocer for his laurel wreath. +He has not the faintest idea that the only thing that is sacred to +them is their midday meal, that they are ready to drink their beer +at the first stroke of the gong, and to yawn when the light appears +on Mount Sinai. He is completely taken up with himself; he is +sufficient unto himself; and he gathers honey. The bee will have +its honey, and if it is unable to get it from the flowers, it buzzes +about the dung heap. As is evidently the case here. <i>Prosit</i> +Nothafft,” he said in conclusion, and lifted his glass to Daniel.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius smiled in his usual languishing fashion. “Nothafft,” +he bleated, “Nothafft, Nothafft, that is a fine name, but +not exactly one that is predestined to a niche in Walhalla. It +strikes me as being rather more appropriate for the sign of a tailor. +Good Lord! The bones the young people gnaw at to-day were +covered with meat in my time.”</p> + +<p>And then, clasping his glasses a bit firmer onto his nose, he +riveted his blinking, squinting eyes on the door. Eberhard von +Auffenberg, elegant, slender, and disgruntled, entered to find life +where others were throwing it away.</p> + +<p>It was far into the night when the brethren went home. As they +passed along through the streets they bellowed their nocturnal +serenades at the windows of the otherwise peaceful houses.</p> + +<p>As the hilarious laughter and vocal rowdyism reached Daniel’s +ear, he detected from out of the hubbub a gentle voice in E-flat +minor, accompanied by the inexorable eighth-notes sung with +impressive vigour. Then the voice died away in a solemn E-flat +major chord, and everything was as if sunk in the bottom of +the sea.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p><h3>V</h3> + +<p>Toward the end of the summer, Philippina, Jason Philip’s +daughter, shot out the eye of her seven-year-old brother with a +so-called bean-shooter.</p> + +<p>The children were playing in the yard. Willibald, the older +boy, wanted the shooter. Philippina, who had not the slightest +sense of humour, snatched it from his hands, placed the stone on +the elastic band and let it fly with all her might. Little Marcus +ran in front of it. It was all over in a jiffy. A heart-rending +scream caused the frightened mother to leave the shop and run +out into the yard. She found the child lying on the ground convulsed +with pain. While Theresa carried the boy into the house, +Jason Philip ran for the doctor. But it was too late; the eye +was lost.</p> + +<p>Philippina hid. After considerable search her father found her +under the cellar steps. He beat her so mercilessly that the neighbours +had to come up and take him away.</p> + +<p>Little Marcus was Theresa’s favourite child. She could not +get over the accident. The obsession that had slumbered in her +soul for years now became more persistent than ever: she began +to brood over guilt in general and this case in particular.</p> + +<p>At times she would get up in the night, light a candle, and +walk about the house in her stocking feet. She would look behind +the stove and under the table, and then crouch down with her ear +against the maid’s door. She would examine the mouse-trap and +if a mouse had been caught in it, she could not, try as she might, +completely detach her own unrest from the mental disturbance of +the little beast.</p> + +<p>One day Jason Philip was stopped on the street by a well-known +cabinet-maker and asked whether he had any old furniture +for sale. Jason Philip replied that he was not at all familiar with +the contents of the attic and sent him to Theresa. Theresa recalled +that there was an old desk up in the attic that had been standing +there for years. She suggested that they might be willing to +dispose of this for a few taler, and accompanied the man to the +room where the worn-out furniture was stored.</p> + +<p>She opened the little wooden door. The cabinet-maker caught +sight at once of the desk. It had only three legs and was just +about ready to fall to pieces. “I can’t make you an offer for +that,” said the cabinet-maker, and began to rap on it here and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>there, somewhat as a physician might sound a corpse. “The most +I can offer you is twelve groschen.”</p> + +<p>They haggled for a while, and finally agreed on sixteen. The +man left at once, having promised to send one of his men up in +the afternoon to get the desk. Theresa was already standing on +the steps, when it occurred to her that it might be well to go +through the drawers before letting the thing get out of the house: +there might be some old documents in them. She went back up in +the attic.</p> + +<p>In the dust of one of the drawers she found, sure enough, a +bundle of papers, and among them the receipt which Gottfried +Nothafft had sent back to Jason Philip ten years before. She read +in the indistinct light the confidential words of the deceased. She +saw that Jason Philip had received three thousand taler.</p> + +<p>After she had read this, she crumpled up the paper. Then she +put it into her apron pocket and screamed out: “Be gone, Gottfried, +be gone!”</p> + +<p>She went down stairs into the kitchen. There she took her +place by the table and stirred a mixture of flour and eggs, as completely +absent-minded as it is possible for one to become who +spends her time in that part of the house. Rieke, the maid, became +so alarmed at her behaviour that she made the sign of the cross.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>When the midday meal was over, the children left the table +and prepared to go to school. Jason Philip lighted a cigar, and +took the newspaper from his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Did you find anything for the second-hand furniture man?” +he asked, as he puffed away.</p> + +<p>“I found something for him and something for myself,” she +said.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? You found something for yourself?”</p> + +<p>“What do I mean? I mean just what I said. I have always +known that there was something crooked about that money.”</p> + +<p>“What money are you talking about? Listen, don’t speak to +me in riddles! When you have anything to say to me, say it. +Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“I mean Gottfried Nothafft’s money, Jason Philip,” said +Theresa, almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip bent over the table. “Then you have at last +found the old receipt, have you?” he asked with wide-opened eyes. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>“Ahem! You have found the receipt that I’ve been looking for +for years ...?”</p> + +<p>Theresa nodded. She took out a hairpin, and stuck it in a +crust of bread. Jason Philip got up, clasped his hands behind his +back, and began to walk back and forth. Just then Rieke came in +and began to clear off the table. She went about her business in +a slow but noisy fashion. She made things rattle, even if she +could not make them hum. When she was through, Jason Philip, +his hands pressed to his hips, his elbows protruding, planted himself +before Theresa.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you think I am going to let you browbeat me,” he +began. “Well, my dear woman, you’re mistaken. Listen! Are +you angry at me because I have created for you and your children +a dignified existence? Do you take it amiss of me for having +kept your sister from going to the poor-house? You act as though +I had won that much money at the county fair, or had squandered +an equal amount at the same place. The truth is, Gottfried Nothafft +entrusted me with three thousand taler. That’s what he +did; that’s the truth. It was his intention to keep the whole affair +from the chatter of women. And he willed that I should use +this hard-earned capital in a productive way, and not give it to the +culprit who would waste it in debauchery and worse if possible.”</p> + +<p>“Ill-gotten goods seldom prosper,” said Theresa, without looking +up. “Things may go along all right for ten years, and that seems +like a long time, but the vengeance of Heaven comes in the +eleventh, as it has already come in the case of little Marcus.”</p> + +<p>“Theresa—you’re talking like a mad woman,” said Jason Philip +at the top of his voice. With that he picked up a chair, and threw +it on the floor so violently that every cup, spoon, and plate in the +room shook.</p> + +<p>Theresa turned her peasant face toward him without the shadow +of a trace of fear. He was a trifle alarmed: “You’ll have to be +responsible, if you can, for any misfortune that visits us in the +future.” She spoke these words with a deep voice.</p> + +<p>“Do you think I am a bandit?” said Jason Philip. “Do you +think I want to pocket the money? Don’t you think that I am +capable of anything better or higher than that? Or is ambition +of any sort quite beyond your powers of comprehension?”</p> + +<p>“Well, what ambitions do you have?” asked Theresa in a tone +of sullenness, her eyes in the meantime blinking.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” Jason Philip continued, as he sat down on the chair +he had so violently abused a minute before, and assumed the air +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>of a teacher: “The culprit has got to submit, and that with good +grace. He has got to fall on his knees before me. And he’ll +come to it. I have made some inquiries; I am on his tracks; and +I know that he has just about reached the end of his rope. He’ll +come, depend upon it he’ll come around, and when he does he +will whine. Then I am going to take him into the business. In +this way we will see whether it is humanly possible to make a useful +man out of him. If I can, and if he sticks, I’ll call him into the +office, tell him the whole story, make everything as clear as day +to him, and then offer to take him in as a partner in the firm. You +have got to admit that he will be a made man if he becomes my +partner. He will have sense enough himself to see this, and as +sure as you are living, he will first kiss my hand and then eat +out of it for the kindness I have shown him. And once this has +all been put through, I will bind him to us more firmly than ever +by having him marry Philippina.”</p> + +<p>A wry smile disfigured Theresa’s face. “I see, so, so,” she +said in a sing-song tone. “You will have him marry Philippina. +I take it that you feel that she will be hard to marry, and that the +man who does marry her will have his hands full. Well, that’s +not a bad idea.”</p> + +<p>“In this way,” continued Jason Philip, without detecting the +scorn in Theresa’s words, “the account between the culprit and +myself will be settled. He will become a decent member of +society, the money will remain in the family, and Philippina +will be cared for.”</p> + +<p>“And suppose he does not come; suppose he does not fall on +his knees; suppose you have made a miscalculation. What then?” +Whether Jason Philip himself believed what he had said Theresa +could not determine. Nor had she the slightest desire to enlighten +herself on this point. She did not look him in the face, but +contented herself with letting her eyes rest on his hands.</p> + +<p>“Well—there will be time then to change my plans,” said Jason +Philip, in a tone of peeved vexation. “Leave it to me. I have +turned the whole situation over in my mind; I have omitted not +the slightest detail. I know men, and I have never made a mistake +in judging them. <i>Mahlzeit!</i>”</p> + +<p>With that he went out.</p> + +<p>Theresa remained seated for a while, her arms folded across +her breast. Then she got up, and walked over to the door that +opened on to the court. Suddenly she stopped as if rooted to the +sill: she caught sight of Philippina, who was then sitting by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>window mending a pair of socks. On her face there was an expression +of naïveté that may be harmless in itself, but it was enough +to arouse suspicion.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with you, why didn’t you go to school?” +asked Theresa uneasily.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t; I had a headache,” said Philippina curtly, and +broke the thread as she gave a hasty jerk at the needle. Her dishevelled +hair hung down over her forehead and quite concealed +her face.</p> + +<p>Theresa was silent. Her gloom-laden eyes rested on the diligent +fingers of Philippina. It was easy to suspect that the girl had +heard everything Jason Philip had said, for he had such a loud +voice. She could have done this without going to the trouble of +listening at the door. Theresa was minded to give the girl a +talking-to; but she controlled herself, and quietly withdrew.</p> + +<p>Philippina looked straight through her as she left. But she did +not interrupt her work, and in a short while she could be heard +humming a tune to herself. There was a challenge in her voice.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Daniel’s money was about at an end. The new sources on +which he had hoped to be able to draw were nowhere to be discovered. +He defiantly closed the doors against care; and when +fear showed its gloomy face, he shut up shop, and went out to +drown his sorrows with the brethren of the Vale of Tears.</p> + +<p>Schwalbe, the sculptor, had made the acquaintance of Zingarella, +then engaged in singing lascivious couplets at the Academy, and +invited the fellows to join him.</p> + +<p>The Academy was a theatre of the lowest description. Smoking +was, of course, permitted. When they arrived the performance +was over. People were still sitting at many of the tables. Reeking +as the auditorium was with the stench of stale beer, it left the +impression of a dark, dank cavern.</p> + +<p>With an indifference that seemed to argue that Zingarella made +no distinction between chairs and people, she took her seat between +the sculptor and the writer. She laughed, and yet it was not +laughter; she spoke, and her words were empty; she stretched out +her hands, and the gesture was lifeless. She fixed her eyes on +no one; she merely gazed about. She had a habit of shaking her +bracelet in a way that aroused sympathy. And after making a +lewd remark she would turn her head to one side, and thereby +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>stagger even the most hardened frequenter of this sort of places. +Her complexion had been ruined by rouge, but underneath the +skin there was something that glimmered like water under thin ice.</p> + +<p>The former winsomeness of her lips was still traceable in the +sorrowed curves of her now ravaged mouth.</p> + +<p>At times her restless eyes, seeking whom they might entangle, +were fixed on Daniel, then sitting quite alone at the lower end +of the table. In order to avoid the unpleasant sensation associated +with the thought of going up to such a distinguished-looking person +and making herself known to him, she would have been grateful +had some one picked her up and thrown her bodily at his feet. +There was an element of strangeness about him. Zingarella saw +that he had had nothing to do with women of her kind. This +tortured her; she gnashed her teeth.</p> + +<p>Daniel did not sense her hatred. As he looked into her face, +marked with a life of transgression and already claimed by fate, +he built up in his own soul a picture of inimitable chastity. He +tried to see the playmate of a god. The curtain decorated with +the distorted face of a harlequin, the acrobat and the dog trainer +at the adjacent table, who were quarrelling over their money, the +four half-grown gamblers directly behind him, the big fat woman +who was lying stretched out on a bench with a red handkerchief +over her face and trying to sleep, the writer who slandered other +writers, the inventor who discoursed so volubly and incessantly +on perpetual motion—to all of this he paid not the slightest bit of +attention. For him it could just as well have been in the bottom +of the sea. He got up and left.</p> + +<p>But as he saw the snow-covered streets before him and was +unable to decide whether he should go home or not, Zingarella +stepped up to him. “Come, be quick, before they see that we are +together,” she whispered. And thus they walked along like two +fugitives, whose information concerning each other stops short with +the certainty that both are poor and wretched and are making their +way through a snow storm.</p> + +<p>“What is your name?” asked Daniel.</p> + +<p>“My name is Anna Siebert.”</p> + +<p>The clock in the St. Lorenz Church struck three. The one +up in the tower of St. Sebaldus corroborated this reckoning by also +striking three and in much deeper tones.</p> + +<p>They came to an old house, and after floundering through a +long, dark, ill-smelling passage way, entered a room in the basement. +Anna Siebert lighted a lamp that had a red chimney. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>Gaudy garments of the soubrette hung on the wall. A big, grey +cat lay on the table cover and purred. Anna Siebert took the cat +in her arms and caressed it. Its name was Zephyr. It accompanied +her wherever she went.</p> + +<p>Daniel threw himself on a chair and looked at the lamp. Zingarella, +standing before the mirror, stroked the cat. Gazing distractedly +into space, she remarked that the manager had discharged +her because the public was no longer satisfied with her work.</p> + +<p>“Is this what you call the public?” asked Daniel, who never +once took his eyes from the lamp, just as Anna Siebert kept hers +rigidly fixed on the desolate distances of the mirror. “These +fathers of families who side-step every now and then, these counter-jumpers, +the mere looks of whom is enough to snatch your clothing +from your body, this human filth at the sight of which God must +conceal His face in shame—this is what you call the public?”</p> + +<p>“Well, however that may be,” Anna Siebert continued in a +colourless voice, “the manager rushed into my dressing room, threw +the contract at my feet, and said I had swindled him. How on +earth could I have swindled him? I am no prima donna and my +agent had told him so. You can’t expect a Patti on twenty marks +a week. In Elberfeld I got twenty-five, and a year ago in Zürich +I even drew sixty. Now he comes to me and says he doesn’t need +to pay me anything. What am I to live off of? And you’ve got +to live, haven’t you, Zephyr,” said Anna as she picked up the cat, +pressed its warm fur to her cheek, and repeated, “You’ve got to +live.”</p> + +<p>She let her arms fall to her sides, the cat sprang on the floor, +hunched up its back, wagged its tail, and purred. She then went +up to Daniel, fell on her knees, and laid her head on his side. +“I have reached the end,” she murmured in a scarcely audible +voice, “I am at the end of all things.”</p> + +<p>The snow beat against the window panes. With an expression +on his face as though his own thoughts were murdering each other, +Daniel looked into the corner from which Zephyr’s yellowish eyes +were shining. The muscles of his face twitched like a fish on being +taken from the hook.</p> + +<p>And as he cowered in this fashion, the poor girl pressed against +his body, his shoulders lowered, past visions again arose from the +depths of the sea. First he heard a ravishing arpeggio in A-flat major +and above it, a majestic theme, commanding quiet, as it were, in +sixteenth triads. The two blended, in <i>forte</i>, with a powerful +chord of sevens. There was a struggling, a separating, a wandering +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>on, and out of the subdued pianissimo there arose and floated in +space a gentle voice in E-flat minor. O voice from the sea, O +humanity on earth! The eighth note, unpitiable as ever in its +elemental power, cut into the bass with the strength that moves +and burrows as it advances, until it was caught up by the redeemed +voice in E-flat major. And now everything suddenly became real. +What had formerly been clouds and dreams, longing and wishing, +at last took shape and form and stood before him. Indeed he himself +became true, real, and conscious of his existence in a world of +actualities.</p> + +<p>On his way home he covered his face with his hands, for the +windows of the houses gaped at him like the hollow eyes of a +demi-monde.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Zingarella could not imagine why the strange man had left. He +seemed to be quite indifferent. Her heart beat with numerical +accuracy, but there was no strength in the beats. The sole creature +through which she was bound to the world was Zephyr.</p> + +<p>Night followed night, day followed day. Each was like the +preceding. She spoke when people took enough trouble to speak +to her. She laughed when they had the incomprehensible desire +to hear laughter. To-day she wrapped this dress around her shivering +body, to-morrow another. She waited for the time to come +when she was to do something definite. She lay in bed and +dreaded the darkness; she pondered on the injustice of the world; +she thought of her own disgrace, and reflected on the need that +surrounded her. It was too much for her to bear.</p> + +<p>A man would come, and at daylight he would leave and mingle +with the rest of the people on the street. When she awoke she +could no longer recall what he looked like. The landlady would +bring in soup and meat. Then some one knocked at the door; but +she did not open it. She had no desire to find out who it was. +Perhaps it was the man who had been with her the night before; +perhaps it was another.</p> + +<p>She had neither curiosity nor hope. Her soul had dissolved +like a piece of salt in water. When she returned home on the +third day she found Zephyr lying by the coal-scuttle dead. She +knelt down, touched the cold fur, wrinkled her brow, shook her +bracelet, and went out.</p> + +<p>It was getting along toward night, and the air was heavy with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>mist. She went first through lighted streets, and then turned into +others that were not lighted. She passed through avenues of +leafless trees, and walked across silent squares. The snow made +walking difficult. When it was too deep, she was obliged to stop +every now and then and take a deep breath.</p> + +<p>She reached the river at a point where the shore was quite flat +and the water shallow. Without thinking for a moment, without +a moment’s hesitation, just as if she were blind, or as if she saw +a bridge where there was none, she walked in.</p> + +<p>First she felt the water trickling into her shoes. Then she could +feel her legs getting wet, as her clothes, soft, slippery, and ice-cold, +clung to her body. Now her breast was under the water, and +now her neck. She sank down, glided away, took one deep breath, +smiled, and as she smiled she lost consciousness.</p> + +<p>The next day her body was washed up on the shore some distance +beyond the city. It was taken to the morgue of the Rochus +Cemetery.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>Schwalbe, the sculptor, was attending a funeral. His nephew +had died, and was being buried in the same cemetery.</p> + +<p>As he passed by the morgue he caught sight of the body of a +girl. After the child had been buried he went back to the morgue. +A few people were standing near the body, one of whom said, +“She was a singer down at the Academy.”</p> + +<p>Schwalbe was struck by the pure and beautiful expression on the +girl’s face. He studied it long and with no little emotion. Then +he went to the superintendent, and asked if he might take a death +mask. The permission was given him, and in a few hours he +returned with the necessary implements.</p> + +<p>When he removed the mask from the face, he held something +truly wonderful in his hands. It showed the features of a +sixteen-year-old girl, a face full at once of sweetness and melancholy, +and, most charming of all, an angelic smile on the curved +lips of this mouth of sorrow. It resembled the work of a +renowned artist, so much so that the sculptor was suddenly seized +with a burning desire to regain his lost art.</p> + +<p>He was nevertheless obliged within a week to sell the mask +to the caster by whom he was employed in Pfannenschmied Street. +Schwalbe needed ready money. The caster hung the mask by the +door at the entrance to his shop.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p><h3>X</h3> + +<p>At the end of December Daniel found himself with not a cent +of cash, so that he was obliged to sell his sole remaining treasure, +the score of the Bach mass in B-minor. Spindler had presented +it to him when he left, and now he had to take it to the second-hand +dealer and part with it for a mere pittance.</p> + +<p>Unless he cared to lie in bed the whole day, he was obliged to +walk the streets in order to keep warm. His poverty made it out +of the question for him to go to any of the cafés, and so he was +excluded from association with the brethren of the Vale of Tears. +He had moreover taken a violent dislike to them.</p> + +<p>One evening he was standing out in front of the Church of +Ægydius, listening to the organ that some one was playing. The +icy wind blew through his thin clothing. When the concert was +over he went down to the square, and leaned up against the wall +of one of the houses. He was tremendously lonesome; he was +lonely beyond words.</p> + +<p>Just then two men came along who wished to enter the very +house against the wall of which he leaned. He was cold. One +of these men was Benjamin Dorn, the other was Jordan. Benjamin +Dorn spoke to him; Jordan stood by in silence, apparently +quite appreciative of the condition in which the young man found +himself, as he stood there in the cold and made unfriendly replies +to the questions that were put to him. Jordan invited Daniel up +to his room. Daniel, chilled to the very marrow of his bones, and +able to visualise nothing but a warm stove, accepted the invitation.</p> + +<p>Thus Daniel came in contact with Jordan’s family. He had +three children: Gertrude, aged nineteen, Eleanore, aged sixteen, +and Benno, fifteen years old and still a student at the <i>gymnasium</i>. +His wife was dead.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was said to be a pietist. She went to church every +day, and had an inclination toward the Catholic religion, a fact +which gave Jordan, as an inveterate Protestant, no little worry. +During the day she looked after the house; but as soon as she had +everything in order, she would take her place by the quilting +frame and work on crowns of thorns, hearts run through with +swords, and languishing angels for a mission. There she would +sit, hour after hour, with bowed head and knit.</p> + +<p>The first time Daniel saw her she had on a Nile green dress, +fastened about her hips with a girdle of scales, while her wavy +brown hair hung loose over her shoulders. It was in this make-up +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>that he always saw her when he thought of her years after: Nile +green dress, bowed head, sitting at the quilting frame, and quite +unaware of his presence, a picture of unamiability, conscious or +affected.</p> + +<p>Eleanore was entirely different. She was like a lamp carried +through a dark room.</p> + +<p>For some time she had been employed in the offices of the Prudentia, +for she wished to make her own living. So far as it was +humanly possible to determine from her casual remarks, she thoroughly +enjoyed her work. She liked to make out receipts for +premiums, lick stamps, copy letters, and see so many people come +in and go out. Stout old Diruf and lanky Zittel did everything +they could to keep her interested, and if, despite their efforts, it +was seen that a morose mood was invading her otherwise cheerful +disposition, they took her out to the merry-go-round, and in a +short time her wonted buoyancy had returned.</p> + +<p>She seemed like a child, and yet she was every inch a woman. +She insisted on wearing her little felt cap at a jaunty angle on her +blond hair. When she entered the room, the atmosphere in it +underwent a change; it was easier to breathe; it was fresher. +People somehow disapproved of the fact that her eyes were so +radiantly blue, and that her two rows of perfect white teeth were +constantly shining from out between her soft, peach-like lips. +They said she was light-hearted; they said she was a butterfly. +Benjamin Dorn was of the opinion that she was a creature possessed +of the devil of sensuality and finding her completest satisfaction +in earthly finery and frippery. For some time there had been an +affair of an intimate nature between her and Baron von Auffenberg. +Just what it was no one knew precisely; the facts were not obtainable. +But Benjamin Dorn, experienced ferreter that he was, +could not see two people of different sexes together without imagining +that he was an accomplice in the hereditary sin of human kind. +And one day he caught Eleanore alone in the company of Baron +von Auffenberg. From that day on she was, in his estimation, a +lost soul.</p> + +<p>The fact concerning Eleanore was this: life never came very +close to her. It comes right up to other people, strangles them, +or drags them along with it. It kept its distance from Eleanore, +for she lived in a glass case. If she had sorrow of any kind, if +some painfully indeterminable sensation was gnawing at her soul, +if the vulgarity and banality of a base and disjointed world came +her way, the glass case in which she lived simply became more +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>spacious than ever, and the things or thoughts that swarmed around +it more and more incomprehensible.</p> + +<p>One can always laugh if one lives in a glass case. Even bad +dreams remain on the outside. Even longing becomes nothing +more than a purple breath which clouds the crystal from without, +not from within.</p> + +<p>The people were quite right in saying that Jordan was bringing +up his daughters like princesses. Both were far removed from the +customary things of life: the one was translated to the realm of +darkness, the other to that of light.</p> + +<p>Daniel saw both of them. They were just as strange to him as +he to them. He saw the brother, too, a tall, glib, dapper youth. +He saw the old house with its dilapidated stairs, its rooms filled +with cumbersome, provincial furniture. He saw the alternating +currents of life in this family: there was now rest, now unrest, +now quiet, now storm. Life flowed out from the house, and then +life, the same or of a different origin, flowed back in again. +When he came, he talked with Jordan himself rather than with +any one else; for he always knew when Jordan would be at home. +They spoke in a free and easy fashion and about things in general. +If their conversation could be characterised more fully, it might +be said that Daniel was reserved and Jordan tactful. Gertrude +sat by the table and attended to her needlework.</p> + +<p>Daniel came and warmed himself by the stove. If he was +offered a sandwich or a cup of coffee he declined. If the offer +was made with noticeable insistency, he shook his head and distorted +the features of his face until he resembled an irritated ape. +It was the peasant spirit of defiance in him that made him act this +way. He nourished a measure of small-minded anxiety lest he be +indebted to somebody for something. To temptations, yielding to +which would have been spiritually mortifying, he was impervious. +When, consequently, his need became overpowering, he simply +stayed away.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>His want grew into a purple sheen. To him there was an element +of the ridiculous in the whole situation: it was 1882 and he +had nothing to eat; he was twenty-three years old and quite without +food.</p> + +<p>Frau Hadebusch, virago that she could be when a dubious +debtor failed to fulfil his obligations, stormed her way up the steps. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>The rent was long overdue, and uncanny councils were being held +in the living room, in which an invalid from the Wasp’s Nest and +a soap-maker from Kamerarius Street were taking part.</p> + +<p>In his despair, Daniel thought of entering the army. He +reported at the barracks, was examined—and rejected because of +a hollow chest.</p> + +<p>At first there was the purple sheen. He saw it as he stood on +the hangman’s bridge and looked down into the water where pieces +of ice were drifting about. But when he raised his distressed +face a gigantic countenance became visible. The great vaulted +arch of heaven was a countenance fearfully distorted by vengeance +and scorn. Of escape from it there could be no thought. Within +his soul everything became wrapped in darkness. Tones and pictures +ran together, giving the disagreeably inarticulate impression +that would be made by drawing a wet rag across a fresh, well-ordered +creation.</p> + +<p>As he walked on, it seemed to him that the horror of the vision +was diminishing. The countenance became smaller and more +amiable. It was now not much larger than the façade of a church +and what wrath remained seemed to be concentrated in the forehead. +An old woman passed by, carrying apples in her apron. +He trembled at the smell of them; but he did not reach out; he +did not try to take a single one of them from her; he still held +himself in control. By this time the entire vision was not much +larger than the top of a tree, and in it were the traces of mercy.</p> + +<p>The sun was high in the heavens, the snow was melting, birds +were chirping everywhere. As he sauntered along with uncertain +steps through Pfannenschmied Street he suddenly stopped as if +rooted to the pavement. There was the vision: he caught sight +of it in bodily form on the door jamb of the shop. He could +not see that it was the mask of Zingarella. Of course not, for it +was a transfigured face, and how could he have grasped a reality +in his present state of mind? He looked from within out. The +thing before him was a vision; it joined high heaven with the +earth below; it was a promise. He could have thrown himself +down on the street and wept, for it seemed to him that he was +saved.</p> + +<p>The incomparable resignation and friendly grief in the expression +of the mask, the sanctity under the long eyelashes, the +half extinguished smile playing around the mouth of sorrow, the +element of ghostliness, a being far removed from death and equally +far removed from life—all this caused his feeling to swell into +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>one of credulous devotion. His entire future seemed to depend +upon coming into possession of the mask. Without a moment’s +hesitation or consideration he rushed into the shop.</p> + +<p>Within he found a young man whom the caster addressed most +respectfully as Dr. Benda, and who was about thirty years old. +Dr. Benda was being shown a number of successful casts of a +figure entitled “The Fountain of Virtue.” It was quite a little +while before the caster turned to Daniel and asked him what he +wanted. In a somewhat rude voice and with an unsteady gesture, +Daniel made it clear to him that he wished to buy the mask. +The caster removed it from the door, laid it on the counter, and +named his price. He looked at the shabby clothing of the newly +arrived customer, concluded at once that the price, ten marks, +would be more than he could afford, and turned again to Dr. +Benda, so that Daniel might have time to make up his mind.</p> + +<p>The two conversed for quite a while. When the caster finally +turned around, he was not a little surprised to see that Daniel +was still standing at the counter. He stood there in fact with +half closed eyes, his left hand lying on the face of the mask. +The caster exchanged a somewhat dazed glance with Dr. Benda, +who, in a moment of forewarning sympathy, grasped the situation +perfectly in which the stranger found himself. Dr. Benda somehow +understood, owing to his instinct for appreciation of unusual +predicaments, the man’s poverty, his isolation, and even the ardour +of his wish. Subduing as well as he might the feeling of ordinary +reserve, he stepped up to Daniel, and said to him calmly, +quietly, seriously, and without the slightest trace of condescension: +“If you will permit me to advance you the money for the mask, +you will do me a substantial favor.”</p> + +<p>Daniel gritted his teeth—just a little. His face turned to a +greenish hue. But the face of his would-be friend, schooled in +affairs of the spirit, showed a winning trace of human kindness. +It conquered Daniel; it made him gentle. He submitted. Dr. +Benda laid the money for the mask on the counter, and Daniel +was as silent as the tomb.</p> + +<p>When they left the shop, Daniel held the mask under his +arm so tightly that the paper wrapping was crushed, if the mask +itself was not. The sad state of his clothing and his haggard +appearance in general struck Dr. Benda at once and forcibly. He +needed to ask but a few well chosen questions to get at the underlying +cause of this misery, physical and spiritual, in human form. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>He pretended that he had not lunched and invited Daniel to +be his guest at the inn at the sign of the Grape.</p> + +<p>Daniel felt that his soul had suddenly been unlocked by a +magic key. At last—he had ears and could hear, eyes and could +see. It seemed to him that he had come up to earth from out +of some lightless, subterranean cavern. And when they separated +he had a friend.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span><a name="THE_NERO_OF_TO-DAY" id="THE_NERO_OF_TO-DAY"></a>THE NERO OF TO-DAY</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">The</span> spectacle of wellnigh complete degeneracy offered by the +roister-doistering slough brethren of the Vale of Tears gave +Herr Carovius a new lease on life. He had a really affable tendency +to associate with men who were standing just on the brink +of human existence. He always drank a great deal of liqueur. +The brand he preferred above all others was what is known as +Knickebein. Once he had enjoyed his liberal potion, he became +jovial, friendly, companionable. In these moods he would venture +the hardiest of assertions, not merely in the field of eroticism, but +against the government and divine providence as well.</p> + +<p>And yet, when he trippled home with mincing steps, there was +in his face an expression of cowardly, petty smirking. It was the +sign of his inner return to virtuous living; for his night was not +as his day. The one belied the other.</p> + +<p>He had a quite respectable income; the house in which he lived +was his own private property. It was pointed out to strangers as +one of the sights of the town; it was certainly one of the oldest +and gloomiest buildings in that part of the country. An especially +attractive feature of it was the smart and graceful bay-window. +Above the beautifully arched outer door there was a patrician coat-of-arms, +consisting of two crossed spears with a helmet above. +This was chiselled into the stone. In the narrow court was a +draw-well literally set in a frame of moss. Each floor of the +house had its own gallery, richly supplied with the most artistic +of carvings. The stairway was spacious; the tread of the steps was +broad, the elevation slight; there were four landings. It symbolised +in truth the leisurely, comfortable tarrying of centuries +gone before and now a matter of easy memory only.</p> + +<p>Often in the nighttime, Herr Carovius recognised in the distance +the massive figure of his brother-in-law, Andreas Döderlein, +the professor of music. Not wishing to meet him, Herr Carovius +would stand at the street corner, until the light from Döderlein’s +study assured him that the professor was at home. On other occasions +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>he would come in contact with the occupant of the second +floor, Dr. Friedrich Benda. When these two came together, there +was invariably a competitive tipping of hats and passing of compliments. +Each wished to outdo the other in matters of courtesy. +Neither was willing to take precedence over the other. The +polished civility of the young man made an even greater degree +of pretty behaviour on the part of Herr Carovius imperative, with +the result that his excessive refinement of manners made him +appear awkward, while his embarrassment made coherent speech +difficult and at times impossible.</p> + +<p>When however he came alone, he would take the huge key +from his pocket, unlock the door, light a candle, hold it high +above his head, and spy into every nook and cranny of the barn-like +hall before entering his apartment on the ground floor.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Herr Carovius was a regular customer at the Crocodile Inn; a +table was always reserved for him. Around it there assembled +every noon the following companions: Solicitor of the Treasury +Korn, assistant magistrate Hesselberger, assistant postmaster Kitzler, +apothecary Pflaum, jeweller Gründlich, and baker Degen. Judge +Kleinlein also joined them occasionally as a guest of honour.</p> + +<p>They gossiped about their neighbours, their acquaintances, their +friends, and their colleagues. What they said ran the whole +gamut of human emotions from an innocent anecdote up to venomous +calumny. Not a single event was immune from malicious +backstairs comment. Reputations were sullied without discrimination; +objections were taken to the conduct of every living soul; +every family was shown to have its skeleton in the closet.</p> + +<p>When the luncheon was finished, the men all withdrew and +went about their business, with the exception of Herr Carovius. +He remained to read the papers. For him it was one of the +most important hours of the day. Having feasted his ears with +friends in private, he now turned to a study of the follies, transgressions, +and tragedies that make up everyday life.</p> + +<p>He read three papers every day: one was a local sheet, one a +great Berlin daily, and the third a paper published in Hamburg. +He never deviated; it was these three, week in and week out. And +he read them from beginning to end; politics, special articles, and +advertisements were of equal concern to him. In this way he +familiarised himself with the advance of civilisation, the changes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>civic life was undergoing, and the general status of the aristocracy, +bourgeoisie, and proletariat.</p> + +<p>Nothing escaped him. He was as much interested in the murder +of a peasant in a Pommeranian village as he was in the loss of a +pearl necklace on the Boulevard des Italiens in Paris. He read +with equal concentration of the sinking of a steamer in the South +Sea and the wedding of a member of the Royal Family in Westminster +Abbey. He could work up just as much enthusiasm over +the latest fashions as he could over the massacring of enslaved +Armenians by the Turks. If he read with care and reflection of +the death of a leading citizen, he pursued the same course with +regard to the reprehending of a relatively harmless vagabond.</p> + +<p>It is only fair to remark, however, that his real sympathy was +with those events that have to be entered on the calamitous side +of life’s ledger. This was due to a bizarre kink in his philosophy: +he studied the world primarily from the point of view of its +wars, earthquakes, floods, hailstorms, cyclones, and public and +private tragedies in the lives of men. Happy and reassuring events, +such as the birth of a healthy child, the conferring of an order +of distinction, heroic deeds, the winning of a prize in the lottery, +the publication of a good book, or the announcement of a legitimate +and successful speculation made no impression on him. At +times they even annoyed him. He kept his mind, in other words, +riveted on the evils, sorrows, woes, and tribulations that come to +pass either on this earth or in the starry firmament above, and +that were somehow brought to his attention.</p> + +<p>His brain was a storehouse of fearful and ferocious happenings; +it was a catalogue, an inventory of disease, seduction, theft, robbery, +larceny, assassination, murder, catastrophe, pest, incest, suicide, +duel, bankruptcy, and the never failing family quarrel.</p> + +<p>If he chanced to enrich his collection by the addition of some +especially curious or unheard-of incident, he took out his pocket +diary, noted the date, and then wrote: “In Amberg a preacher +had a hemorrhage while delivering his morning sermon.” Or: +“In Cochin China a tiger killed and ate fourteen children, and +then, forcing its way into the bungalow of a settler, bit off the +head of a woman as she was sleeping peacefully by the side of +her husband.” Or: “In Copenhagen a former actress, now ninety +years old, mounted a huge vegetable basket on the market place, +and recited Lady Macbeth’s monologue. Her unconventional behaviour +attracted such a large crowd of passersby that several people +were crushed to death in the excitement.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p><p>This done, he would go home, happy as a man can be. To +idlers standing in the doorways or servants looking out the windows +he would extend the greetings of the day, and that with really +conspicuous cordiality.</p> + +<p>If a fire broke out in the city, he was present. As his eyes +peered into the flames, they seemed intoxicated, obsessed, seized +with uncanniness. He would hum a tune of some sort, look into +the anxious faces of those immediately concerned, busy himself +with whatever had been salvaged, and attempt to force his gratuitous +advice on the fire chief.</p> + +<p>If a prominent citizen died, he never failed to attend the +funeral, and, where possible, to join the procession on the way to +the cemetery. He would stand by the grave with bowed head, +and take in every word of the funeral discourse. But his lips +twitched in a peculiar fashion, as if he felt that he were understood, +and flattered.</p> + +<p>And in truth all this did flatter him. The defeat, distress, and +death of other people, the betrayals that take place in any community, +the highhanded injustice of those in power, the oppression +of the poor, the violence that was done to right and righteousness, +and the sufferings which had to be borne by thousands +day after day, all this flattered him; it interested him; it lulled +him into a comfortable feeling of personal security.</p> + +<p>But then he sat down at his piano at home, and played an +adagio of Beethoven or an impromptu by Schubert, his eyes with +fine frenzy rolling in the meantime. And when the mighty +chorus in a Bach oratorio resounded, he became pale with ecstasy. +At the hearing of a good song well sung he could shed copious +tears.</p> + +<p>He idolised music.</p> + +<p>He was a provincial with unfettered instincts. He was an +agitator with a tendency to conservatism. He was a Nero without +servants, without power, and without land. He was a musician +from despair and out of vanity. He was a Nero in our own day.</p> + +<p>He was the Nero of our day living in three rooms. He was +a lonely bachelor and a bookworm. He exchanged his views +with the corner grocer; he discussed city ordinances with the night +watchman; he was a tyrant through and through and a hangman +at heart; he indulged in eavesdropping at the shrine of fate, and +in this way concocted the most improbable of combinations and +wanton deeds of violence; he was constantly on the lookout for +misfortune, litigation, and shame; he rejoiced at every failure, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>and was delighted with oppression, whether at home or abroad. +He hung with unqualified joy on the imagined ruins of imaginary +disaster, and took equal pleasure in the actual debacles of life as it +was lived about him. And alongside of this innate and at times +unexpressed gruesomeness and bloodthirstiness, he was filled with +a torturing passion for music. This was Herr Carovius. Such +was his life.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>For nine long years, that is, from the time she was fifteen +until she was twenty-four, his sister Marguerite kept house for him. +She got his breakfast, made his bed, darned his socks, and brushed +his clothes; and all he knew about her was that she had yellowish +hair, a skin full of freckles, and a timid, child-like voice. His +astonishment was consequently unbounded when Andreas Döderlein +called one day and proposed to her. He had moved into the +house the year before. Herr Carovius was amazed for the very +simple reason that he had never known Marguerite except as a +fourteen-year-old girl.</p> + +<p>He took her to task. With unusual effort she summoned the +courage to tell him that she was going to marry Döderlein. “You +are a shameless prostitute,” he said, though he did not dare to +show Andreas Döderlein the door. The wedding took place.</p> + +<p>One evening he was sitting in the company of the young couple. +Andreas Döderlein, being in an unusually happy mood, went to +the piano, and began playing the shepherd’s motif from Wagner’s +“Tristan and Isolde.”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius sprang to his feet as if stung by a viper, and +exclaimed: “Stop playing that foul magic! You know as well as +you are living that I don’t believe in it.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, brother?” asked Andreas Döderlein, his +head bowed in grief.</p> + +<p>“What are you trying to do? Are you trying to teach me something +about this poisoner of wells?” shouted Herr Carovius, and +his face took on the enraged expression of a hunchback who has +just been taunted about his deformity. “Does the professor imagine +that he knows better than I do who this Richard Wagner is, +this comedian, this Jew who goes about masked as the Germanic +Messiah, this cacaphonist, this bungler, botcher, and bully, this +court sycophant, this Pulchinello who pokes fun at the whole +German Empire and the rest of Europe led about by the nose, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>this Richard Wagner? Very well, if you have anything to teach +me about him, go on! Proceed! I am listening. Go on! Pluck +up your courage.” With this he leaned back in his chair, and +laughed a laughter punctuated with asthmatic sighs, his hands +in the meantime resting folded across his stomach.</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein rose to his full stature, see-sawed a bit on +the tips of his toes, and looked down on Herr Carovius as one +might look down upon a flea that one had caught and was just +in the act of crushing between two finger nails. “Oh, ho,” he +said, “how interesting! Upon my word, brother Carovius, you +are an interesting individual. But if some one were to offer me +all the money in the world, I should not like to be so ... interesting. +Not I. And you, Marguerite, would you like to be so +interesting?”</p> + +<p>There was something distinctly annihilating in this air of +superiority. It had its full effect on Herr Carovius: his unleashed +laughter was immediately converted into a gurgling titter. He +opened his eyes wide and rolled them behind his nose-glasses, +thus making himself look like a water-spitting figure on a civic +fountain. Marguerite, however, timid as she was, never saying +a word without making herself smaller by hiding her hands, glanced +in helpless fashion from her brother to her husband, and dropped +her head before them.</p> + +<p>Was the feeling of Herr Carovius for Andreas Döderlein one +of hatred? It was hatred and more. It was a feeling of venomous +embitterment with which he thought of him, his name, his +wife, his child, the thick, bulky wedding ring on his finger, and +the gelatinous mass of flesh on his neck. From that evening on +he never again visited his sister. If Marguerite got up enough +courage to visit him, he treated her with crabbed contempt. She +finally came to the point where she would pass his door with not +a thought of entering it.</p> + +<p>When the first child was born and the maid brought him the +glad tidings, he squinted into the corner, tittered, and made bold +to say: “Well, my congratulations. It is good that the Döderleins +are not to become extinct, for so long as one of them is living, +<i>plaisir</i> will not have vanished from the earth.”</p> + +<p>Little Dorothea formed in time the habit of playing on the +steps or around the old windlass well in the backyard. Herr +Carovius procured forthwith a mean dog and named him Cæsar. +Cæsar was tied to a chain, to be sure, but his snarls, his growls, his +vicious teeth were hardly calculated to inspire the child with a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>love for the place near him. She soon stopped playing at home.</p> + +<p>Four years had elapsed since the Carovius-Döderlein wedding. +Herr Carovius was celebrating his birthday. Marguerite called +with Dorothea. The child recited a poem which she had learned +by heart for her uncle’s benefit. Carovius shook with laughter +when he saw the girl dressed up like a doll and realised that the +recital was imminent. Dorothea had of course the enunciation +of one of her age. When through, Herr Carovius said: “Honestly, +it would never have occurred to me that such a little toad could +croak so beautifully.”</p> + +<p>Though the man knew so little about women that it would +be perilous to attempt to measure his ignorance of them, he nevertheless +felt, as he looked into Marguerite’s radiant face, a certain +disappointment in life—a disappointment which he would try +at once to benumb but which delighted him.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>About this time Herr Becker died. He was the senior city +official, and had been living in the second story of the apartment +for twenty-eight years. Dr. Benda moved in at once with his +mother.</p> + +<p>Carovius told all about this at the reserved table in the Crocodile. +His companions were in a position to tell him a great deal more +about the ancestry and past life of the Bendas. They were said +to have been very rich once, to have lost their money in the +great panic, and to be living at present in quite moderate circumstances. +Benda’s father was said to have shot himself, and his +mother was reported to have taken the boy to school every morning. +Solicitor Korn had been told that, despite his youth, Dr. +Benda had written a number of scientific books on biology, but +that this had not enabled him to reach his desired goal.</p> + +<p>“What goal?” the table companions asked in unison.</p> + +<p>“Why, he wanted to be made a professor, but people had +objected.” Why had they objected? came the question from more +than one throat. “Well, you see it was this way: the man is a +Jew, and the authorities are not going to appoint a Jew to an official +position in a university without raising objections. That is +to be taken as a matter of course.” That this was in very truth +to be taken as a matter of course was also the opinion of Herr +Carovius, who, however, insisted that Benda didn’t exactly look +like a Jew; he looked more like a tolerably fat Dutchman. He +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>was in truth not quite blond, but he was not dark either, and his +nose was as straight as a rule.</p> + +<p>“That is just the point: that’s the Jewish trick,” remarked the +Judge, and took a mighty draught from his beer glass. “In olden +times,” he said, “the Jews all had the yellow spots, aquiline noses, +and hair like bushmen. But to-day no Christian can be certain +who is Jew and who is Gentile.” To this the whole table agreed.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius at once began a system of espionage. He studied +the faces of the new tenants, and was particularly careful to note +when they went out and when they came in and with whom they +associated. He knew precisely when they turned the lights out +at night and when they opened the windows in the morning. He +could tell exactly how many rugs they had, how much coal they +burned, how much meat they ate, how many letters they received, +what walks they preferred, what people they spoke to, and who +recognised them. As if this were not enough, he went down to +the bookstore, bought the complete works of Dr. Benda, and read +these heavy scientific treatises in the sweat of his brow. He was +annoyed at the thought that they had not been critically reviewed. +He would have embraced any one who would have told him that +they were all perfectly worthless compilations.</p> + +<p>One evening, along towards spring, he chanced to go into the +backyard to feed Cæsar. He looked up, and saw Marguerite +standing on the balcony. She did not see him, for she was also +looking up. On the balcony of the second floor, across the court +from her, stood Friedrich Benda, responding to some mute signals +Marguerite was giving him. Finally they both stopped and merely +looked at each other, until Marguerite caught sight of her brother, +when she quickly disappeared behind the glass door draped with +green curtains.</p> + +<p>“Aha,” thought Carovius, “there’s something up.” The scene +warmed his very blood.</p> + +<p>From that day on he avoided the court. He sat instead for +hours at a time in a room from which he could look out through a +crack and see everything that was taking place at the windows +and on the balconies. He discovered that signals were being sent +from the first floor up to the second by changing the position of +a flower pot on the railing of the balcony, and that these signals +were answered by having a yellow cloth flutter on now a vertical, +now a horizontal pole.</p> + +<p>At times Marguerite would come out quite timidly, and look +up; at times Benda appeared, and stood for a while at the window +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>completely absorbed, as it seemed, in melancholy thoughts. Herr +Carovius caught them together but on one single occasion. He +opened the window as quickly as he could, and placed his ear +so that he could hear what was being said, but it so happened that +over in the adjoining yard some one was just then nailing a box +together. As a result of the noise it was impossible for him to +understand their remarks.</p> + +<p>Since that day they exchanged no more signals, and never again +appeared on the balcony.</p> + +<p>Carovius rubbed his hands at the thought that the majestic +Andreas Döderlein had after all grown horns. But his joy waned +when he reflected that two other people were deriving profit from +the situation. That should not be; that had to be corrected.</p> + +<p>And so he stood at times in the evening out in the narrow passage +at the entrance to his apartment. His bathrobe fell down +over his bony body in many folds. In his right hand he carried +a candle. Thus equipped, he listened in, or rather into, the +stillness of the house.</p> + +<p>At times he would take a dark lantern, walk up the stairs slowly, +step by step, and listen, listen with the greedy ears of a man +who was determined to hear something. There was something +in the air that told him of secret, and of course illicit, transactions.</p> + +<p>Was it the same medium through which he learned of the +weakening of Marguerite’s mind and the beclouding of her soul? +Was it this that told him of her mental anxiety and the ever +growing delusion of her terrified and broken heart?</p> + +<p>Later he learned of her mad outbursts of anxiety concerning +the life of her child. He heard that she would never allow the +child out of her sight; that she regarded the natural warmth of +her body as a high fever; that every morning she would stand by +Dorothea’s bed, weep, take her in her arms, feel her pulse, and +wrap her body in warm clothing. He heard, too, that night after +night she sat by the child’s bedside watching over her and praying +for her, while the child herself slept like an old shoe. All +this he learned from the maid.</p> + +<p>One day Herr Carovius came home, and found an ambulance +and a crowd of gaping people before the house. As he went up +the stairway he heard a hushed whimpering. Marguerite was +being dragged from the house by two men. The rear of this +procession was brought up by Andreas Döderlein, on whose face +there was an expression of accusation. The room door was open. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>He looked in, and saw bits of broken glasses and dishes, and in +the midst of the debris sat Dorothea. Her mouth was puckered +as if just on the point of weeping, and a cloth was bound about +her forehead. The maid stood in the door wringing her hands. +And on a step above was Friedrich Benda, white as a sheet, and +evidently suffering from great mental anxiety.</p> + +<p>Marguerite offered but little resistance. She looked behind her, +and tried to see what the child was doing. Herr Carovius buried +his hands in his overcoat pockets, and followed the mournful +caravan out on to the street. The poor woman was taken to the +insane asylum at Erlangen.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius said to himself: somebody is responsible for all +this. He determined at once to bring the guilty party to account. +He took this stand neither out of grief nor from a feeling of +love for his fellow men. His action was motivated by his hatred +of a world in which something is constantly going on, and in +the midst of which he was condemned to an inactive and deedless +life.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Not much could be learned from Döderlein’s maid. The efforts +to draw something out of little Dorothea were also fruitless. She +was wrapped up in her own affairs. She arranged her ribbons, +played with her toys, recounted the small incidents of her uneventful +life, and could hardly be persuaded even to listen to the +ingenious questions Carovius put to her when he stopped her out +in the hall and asked her about this and that.</p> + +<p>One day he went over to Erlangen to visit his sister in the +insane asylum. He thought that he might be able to get some +clue to this mystery from her.</p> + +<p>He found her sitting in the corner of a room, stroking her +long, yellowish hair. Her head was bowed; her eyes were fixed +on the floor. Through no cunning that he could devise was it +possible to entice a single statement from her.</p> + +<p>The physician said: “She is a harmless patient, but most secretive +and passionate. She must have suffered for years from some +heavy burden on her soul.”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius left her, and went back to the station. The +sun was shining bright. He soon saw to his infinite discomfort +that it was impossible to eliminate the picture of the melancholy +woman from his inner eye. He went into a café and drank some +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>whiskey. On the return journey an old woman sat opposite him +who seemed to understand him. There was a trace of compassion +in her eyes. This made him so uneasy that he found it necessary +to change his seat.</p> + +<p>He had met with unanticipated difficulties in his investigation. +He recognised these fully, but consoled himself with the +thought that there was still time. It occurred to him that he +might somehow get hold of Dr. Benda and cross-question him. He +recalled having seen Friedrich Benda meet little Dorothea on the +stairway once, and no sooner had he seen her coming than he made +every effort to avoid her. That set Carovius to thinking.</p> + +<p>Some gas pipes had to be installed in the apartment about +that time, and this gave him, as superintendent, a splendid opportunity +to go up and see Benda. The doctor was just then +making his final attempt to claim his rights—the rights of a man +and a scholar—against the conspiracy of enemies who were really +immune before the law.</p> + +<p>He was all alone when Carovius called. He took him straight +to his study. The walls of his hall as well as those of his room +were covered with books from floor to ceiling. Benda said he +was just getting ready to go on an extended journey. The finished +politeness with which he removed the books from a chair and the +tense way in which he eyed Herr Carovius made it clear to the +latter that this was neither the time nor the place to engage in mock +conversation. Carovius talked gas pipes. Benda finished all he had +to say on this subject in two short, crisp sentences and got up to +go.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius got up too, removed his nose glasses, and rubbed +them with his bright blue handkerchief. “Where are you going, if +I may ask?” There was an expression of apparent sympathy in his +question.</p> + +<p>Benda made it a habit never to treat any man impolitely, however +little regard he might have for him personally. He said that +he was going to Kiel to deliver his trial lecture at the university.</p> + +<p>“Bravo!” cried Carovius, falling at once into the tone of awkward +familiarity. “You have simply got to show those fellows +that you are not a coward. Bravo!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t quite understand you,” said Benda in amazement. His +antipathy for the man was growing. And no one recognised this +better than Carovius himself.</p> + +<p>He cast a sideglance that reeked with hypocrisy at the young +scholar. “My dear doctor, you must not look upon me as a poor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>uncultured yokel,” he said, “<i>anch’ io sono pittore</i>. I have read, +among other things, your monograph on the morphogenetic achievements +of the original sulcate cell. Listen, man! I take off +my hat to that book. Of course, it is not exactly original, but +then it is one of your earlier works. The idea developed in it +follows pretty closely that of the evolutionary and mechanical +theories of the much slandered Wilhelm Roux. And yet I am +bound to say you display considerable independence in your +method. Indeed you do. And more than that, you throw much +needed light on the mysteries of God himself. There is a good +deal of incoherent drivel these days about the freedom of science. +Well, you’ll have to show me where it is. Scientists? They +are a lot of conceited pin-heads, each working for himself, and +incurably jealous of what his colleagues are doing. Up and at ’em, +Doctor, that’s my advice, and luck to you!”</p> + +<p>Benda was amazed to hear Carovius mention a work that was +otherwise known only to specialists. This however merely tended +to increase his distrust. He knew too much about the man to +stand before him without a feeling of hostility. He merely +needed to call to mind the story of the woman whose youth he +had made into a waste place and a prison to be made aware of the +fact that it was quite impossible to stand in his presence and +breathe easily. The air of the room in which Carovius chanced +to be was heavy, stuffy, depressing.</p> + +<p>Benda’s bearing, however, remained unchanged. He replied in +a serious tone: “It is not after all easy to get along with people. +Each has his own place and wants to keep it. I thank you very +much for your visit and your kind words, but my time is limited. +I have a great deal to do—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly,” said Carovius hastily, while a rancorous grin +flitted across his face, “but you don’t need to drive me away. +I am going on my own accord. I have an engagement at the +district court at five o’clock, I am to sign some sort of a document +concerning the detention of my sister in the insane asylum. It +probably has to do with the settling of her estate or something +like that. Who knows? By the way, what have you to say +about the affair? You knew her rather intimately. No hedging, +doctor. There she sits in the cell and combs her hair. Can you +imagine who is responsible? You know a woman doesn’t lose +her mind from a mere love affair. And this music swindler down +stairs—it is impossible to get him to show his true colours. Yes, +we all have our troubles.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p><p>In order to take the sting out of his impudent insinuations, +for he regretted having made a premature move with his trump +card, Carovius smiled in a scurrilous fashion, ducked his head, +coward that he was, and riveted his greedy, banal eyes on Benda.</p> + +<p>But Benda was looking down. His eyes had been attracted +by the fancy buckle shoes of Herr Carovius. He was repelled +by the man’s foppish socks with the yellow stripes which were +made more conspicuous by the fact that his trousers were too high. +He had a feeling of unmitigated mental nausea, too, when he +noticed how Carovius lifted first one foot and then the other from +the floor, and then set it down, heel first. It was a detestable +habit; and indulging in it made an ugly noise.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Benda’s absence lasted for hardly a year. His mother had not +accompanied him this time. She was not feeling well, and there +was some danger that she was losing her eyesight.</p> + +<p>After his return he took to silent brooding. Though he never +said a word to his mother about the disappointment he had experienced, +she knew precisely what he had gone through, and +spared him the humiliation that would have followed any questions +she might have asked.</p> + +<p>He was oppressed by the memories the house awakened in him. +Forgotten pictures became living ones. The figure of the murdered +woman appeared in the nighttime on the balcony. Her shadow +fell upon him, nestled up to him in fact, as he sat at his writing-desk.</p> + +<p>There were a great many things that still bound him to her +whose spirit had vanished from the earth, though her body remained.</p> + +<p>It was impossible for him to forget her gentle look or the +coyness of her hands. He knew her fate; he knew her soul. +But he was condemned to silence. To withdraw from contact +with the world and into the deepest of loneliness had been her +lot; it had also been his. At present it was possible to get only +one picture of her, the one her brother had given: she sat in her +cell and combed her yellow hair.</p> + +<p>He held no one responsible; he blamed no one. He merely +regretted that men are as they are.</p> + +<p>A former university friend of his came in, and tried to get +him interested in collaborating on a great scientific work. He +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>declined. As soon as his colleague of other days had gone, he visualised +to himself the entire conversation: The man was affable +and insistent; and yet there was in his very being an underground, +enigmatic hostility. It was the hostility he invariably felt whenever +he had anything to do, either of a purely external, business +nature or in a social way, with men of other faith. The least +he had to fear was a prejudiced inimicality, as if the individual +in question were on the point of calling out to him: You stay +on that side, I’ll stay on this. Keep off the bridge.</p> + +<p>He was fully aware of this, but his pride forbade his fighting +against it. He renounced his natural right to life and a living. +He declined the university conceded privilege of co-existence. +To go out and actually win for himself the right to participate +in the inevitable contest of forces, or to secure even this poor +privilege by supplication, or to defend it by argument, or to cajole +it into his possession by political wiles, seemed to him contrary +to reason and at odds with common sense. He would not do it.</p> + +<p>He refused to knock at the door which he himself had bolted +and barricaded.</p> + +<p>From this self-imposed embarrassment he suffered to an almost +intolerable degree. It was the irrational and fraudulent phase +of matters that made him suffer. Did men act as they did because +they were so strong in their faith? Not at all. Did he believe +in those racial differences which made them believe? Not at +all. He felt at home on the soil that nourished him; he felt +under obligations to the weal and woe of his people; he was +bound heart and soul to the best of them, and realised that he had +been spiritually developed by their language, ideas, and ideals.</p> + +<p>Everything else was a lie. They knew that it was a lie too, +but out of his pride they forged a weapon and turned it against +him. To deny his relationship to them, a relationship that had +been proved by his achievements and enthusiasm, was a part of +their plan; it was also a part of their evil designs.</p> + +<p>To strike up acquaintances, seek out congenial companions, or +take an active part in social organisations was repulsive to him. +He did not care to be dragged into fruitless and empty community +of effort or social co-operation. Defiant and alone, he explained +his case to himself. Since it merely intensified his agony to +compare his lot with that of others who seemed to be similarly +situated, he did not do it. He avoided in truth all reflections that +might have made the world appear to him as having at least a semblance +of justice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p><p>He was consequently filled with a longing which took more +definite shape day by day, and finally developed into a positive +and irrevocable decision.</p> + +<p>About this time he made the acquaintance of Daniel, and +through him he came to know other people. He saw at once that +there was something unusual about Daniel; that there was something +in him which he had never before noticed in any one. Even +his outer distress was a challenge to greater activity, while his +inner agitation never permitted his associates to rest in idle peace.</p> + +<p>It was not easy to be of assistance to him; he rejected all +gifts which he could not repay. He had to be convinced first +of his duty and indebtedness to the friend whom fate had made +cross his path. And even then he stood out for the privilege of +being theoretically ungrateful.</p> + +<p>Benda and his mother succeeded in getting him a position +as a tutor in some private families. He had to give piano lessons +to young boys and girls. The compensation was not great, but +it at least helped him out for the time being.</p> + +<p>After the day’s work was done, the evenings and nights bound +the two more and more firmly together.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>One evening Daniel entered the house and met Herr Carovius. +But he was so absorbed in thought that he passed by without +noticing him. Carovius looked at him angrily, and walked back +to the hall to see where the young man was going. When he +heard him ring the bell on the second floor, an uneasy expression +came over his face. He rubbed his chin with his left hand.</p> + +<p>“The idea of passing by me as though I were a block of wood,” +murmured Carovius spitefully. “Just wait, young man, I’ll make +you pay for that.”</p> + +<p>Instead of leaving the house as he had wished, Carovius went +into his apartment, lighted a candle, and tripped hastily through +three rooms, in which there were old cabinets and trunks filled +with books and music scores. There was also a piano in one. He +then took a key from his pocket, and unlocked a fourth room, +which had closed shades and was in fact otherwise quite oddly +arranged.</p> + +<p>He went to a table which reached almost the full length of the +room, picked up a piece of white paper, sat down, and wrote with +red ink: “Daniel Nothafft. Musician. Two months in jail.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p><p>He then covered the paper with mucilage, pasted it on a +wooden box which looked like a miniature sentry-house, and nailed +a lid on the box, using tacks that were lying ready for this purpose.</p> + +<p>There were at least five dozen such boxes on the long table, the +majority of which had names attached to them and had been +nailed up.</p> + +<p>The closed room Herr Carovius called his court chamber. What +he did in it he termed the regulation of his affairs with humanity, +and the collection of little wooden cells he called his jail. Every +individual who had offended, hurt, humiliated, or defrauded him +was assigned such a keep in which he was obliged to languish, +figuratively, until his time, determined by a formal sentence, was +up.</p> + +<p>Nor was this all. In the middle section of the table there +were a number of diminutive sand heaps, about thirty in all, and +on each one was a small wooden cross and on each cross was a +name. That was Herr Carovius’s cemetery, and those who were +figuratively buried there were, so far as he was concerned, dead, +even though they were still going about their earthly affairs as +lively and cheerful as ever. They were people whose mundane +careers were finished, as he saw it, and under each of their accounts, +reckoned exclusively in sins, he had drawn a heavy line. They +were such people as Richard Wagner and his champions, the local +stationer to whom he had advanced some money years ago and +who entered a plea of bankruptcy a few months later, the authors +of bad books that were widely read, or of books which he loathed +without having read them, as, for instance, those of Zola.</p> + +<p>There were still a third noteworthy section of the table, and +that was the so-called Academy. This consisted of a plot of +ground, surrounded by an iron fence, and divided up into twelve +or fifteen square fields, each of which was painted in fresh green. +In the middle of each field there was a wooden peg about two +inches high, and to the middle of each peg there was attached a +name-plate. From the tops of some of these pegs little banners +of green cloth fluttered in the breeze.</p> + +<p>The fact is, Herr Carovius had a weakness for association with +aristocrats. In his heart of hearts he admired the manners of the +aristocracy, their indifference and self-complacency, their irrefragable +traditions and their noiseless and harmonious behaviour. To +the pegs of the Academy he had affixed the names of some of +the best families he had known; among others, those of the Tuchers, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>the Hallers, the Humbsers, the Kramer-Kleets, and the Auffenbergs. +Whenever he had succeeded in making the personal acquaintance +of the members of any of these families, he went +straightway to the Academy and hoisted the appropriate flag.</p> + +<p>But, despite all his effort, he had never in the course of time +been able to run up more than three flags, and these only for a +brief period and without any marked success. Some one had +recognised him on the street or spoken to him at the concert, and +that was all. The Academy looked, in contradistinction to the +jail and the cemetery, quite deserted. Finally he was able to +hoist the Auffenberg banner. Herr Carovius felt that the Academy +had a great future.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Kropotkin the painter had once upon a time received an order +to make a copy of a Holbein for Baron Siegmund von Auffenberg. +He never finished the picture, owing to lack of ability; but he +had become acquainted with Baron Eberhard, and years later, +having met him quite accidentally, took him to the Paradise, where +the infamous brethren were then in the habit of gathering.</p> + +<p>Eberhard’s appearance at the Paradise was short-lived; he disappeared +in fact as quickly as he had appeared. But this brief +space was sufficient for Herr Carovius to become intimately acquainted +with him.</p> + +<p>The first time he sat at the same table with him he was +noticeably excited. His face shone with a mild spiritual glow. +His voice was sweet and gentle, his remarks of an unusually agreeable +moderation.</p> + +<p>He turned the conversation to a discussion of the superiorities +of birth, and lauded the distinction of the hereditary classes. He +said it was from them only that the people could acquire civic +virtue. The brethren scorned his point of view. Herr Carovius +came back at them with an annihilating jest.</p> + +<p>During the rendition of this hallelujah-solo in praise of the +nobility, Eberhard von Auffenberg intrenched himself behind a +sullen silence. And though Carovius used every available opportunity +from then on to flatter the young nobleman in his cunning, +crafty way, he failed. The most he could do was to inspire +Eberhard to lift his thrush-bearded chin in the air and make some +sarcastic remark. Fawn as he might, Carovius was stumped at +every turn.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p><p>One night, however, the two enjoyed each other’s company on +the way home. That is, Carovius never left Eberhard’s side. +Annoyed at the failure of his former tactics, he thought he would +try his luck in another way: he ridiculed the arrogance of a certain +caste which affected to attach less importance to a man like himself +than to some jackanapes whose handkerchief was adorned with +an embroidered crown.</p> + +<p>“What are you, any way, what is your vocation?” asked Eberhard +von Auffenberg.</p> + +<p>“I don’t do anything,” replied Carovius.</p> + +<p>“Nothing at all? That is quite agreeable.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I do work a little at music,” added Herr Carovius, entirely +pleased at the curiosity of the Baron.</p> + +<p>“Now, you see, that is after all something,” said the Baron. +“I for my part am as unmusical as a shot-gun. And if you do +not do anything but interest yourself in music, you must have a +great deal of money.”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius turned away. The positive dread of being +taken for a rich man wrestled with the vain desire to make the +young Baron feel that he really was somebody. “I have a little,” +he remarked with a titter, “a little.”</p> + +<p>“Very well; if you will loan me ten thousand marks, it will +give me great pleasure to make you a present of the crown on my +handkerchief,” said Eberhard von Auffenberg.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius stopped stock still, and opened his mouth and his +eyes: “Baron, you are taking the liberty of jesting with me.” +But when Eberhard indicated that he was quite serious, Carovius +continued, blank amazement forcing his voice to its highest pitch: +“But my dear Sir, your father has an income of half a million. +A mere income! The tax receipts show it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I am not talking about my father,” said Eberhard +coldly, and once more threw his chin in the air. “It is evidently +a part of your heraldic prejudices to feel that you can coax the +income of my father into my own pockets.”</p> + +<p>They were standing under a gas lamp at the Haller Gate. +It was dripping rain, and they had raised their umbrellas. It +was perfectly still; it was also late. Not a human being was to +be seen anywhere. Carovius looked at the seriously offended young +man, the young man looked at Carovius, then grinning a grin of +embarrassment, and neither knew how to take the other.</p> + +<p>“You are surprised,” said Eberhard, resuming the conversation. +“You are surprised, and I don’t blame you. I am a discontented +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>guest in my own skin; that much I can assure you. I am as +abortive a creature as ever was born. I inherited far too much +that is superfluous, and not nearly enough of the necessities. +There are all manner of mysteries about me; but they are on the +outside. Within there is nothing but stale, dead air.”</p> + +<p>He stared at the ground as though he were talking to himself, +and as though he had forgotten that any one was listening, and +continued: “Have you ever seen old knights carved in stone +in old churches? If you have, you have seen me. I feel as +if I were the father of my father, and as if he had had me buried +alive, and an evil spirit had turned me to stone, and my hands +were lying crossed over my breast and could not move. I grew +up with a sister, and I see her as though it were yesterday”—at +this point his face took on an expression of fantastic senility—“walking +through the hall, proud, dainty, innocent, with roses +in her hand. She is married to a captain of cavalry, a fellow +who treats his men like Negro slaves, and who never returns the +greeting of a civilian unless he is drunk. She had to marry him. +I could not prevent it. Somebody forced her into it. And if +she is carrying roses now, it is as if a corpse were singing songs.”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius felt most uneasy. He was not accustomed to +hearing things like this. Where he lived people called a spade a +spade. He pricked up his ears and made a wry face. “It is the +way he has been trained that makes him talk like that,” he +thought; “it is the result of constantly sitting on gold-embroidered +chairs and seeing nothing about him but paintings.”</p> + +<p>“I am going to sit on such chairs too,” he was happy to think, +“and I shall see the paintings, too.” He pictured himself between +the Baron and the Baroness, marching up to the portals of the castle, +flanked on either side by a row of liveried servants, the nervous +masses catching sight of the splendour as well as they might. The +rear of this procession was being brought up by the young Baron, +who had returned home as the penitent Prodigal Son.</p> + +<p>“One must have a feeling of personal security,” remarked +Carovius. He wondered whether the Baron had reached his +majority. Eberhard replied that he had just completed his twenty-first +year, and that certain things had made him feel that it +would be wise to live independent of his family and to renounce +his claims to all family rights for the time being. What he +really had in mind was the desire to avoid, so far as humanly +possible, association with all professional money-lenders.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius felt that this was an extremely serious case. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>He claimed moreover to understand it perfectly and to be ready +for anything, but insisted that nothing must be withheld, that he +must be given undiluted wine. He made this remark just as +if he were holding a glass of old Johannisberger out in the rain, +sniffing as he did with appreciative nostrils.</p> + +<p>“I am very discreet,” he said, “very taciturn.” He looked at +the Baron tenderly.</p> + +<p>The young Baron nodded.</p> + +<p>“The wearer of purple is recognised wherever he goes,” continued +Herr Carovius, “and if he lays the purple aside he stands +at once in need of reticent friends. I am reserved.”</p> + +<p>The Baron nodded again. “If you will permit me, I shall visit +you in a few days.” With that he ended the conversation.</p> + +<p>He started off toward the Avenue, walking stiffly. It was +not hard to see that he was ill at ease. Herr Carovius walked +away with mincing, merry steps down toward the small end of +the alley, singing an aria from the “Barber of Seville” as he +went.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first week he was taken down with a disconcerting +suspicion that the Baron had made a fool of him. He +was filled with a wrath that had to be cooled. One morning, +just as he was leaving his apartment, he saw two milk cans filled +with milk standing in the outer hall. One was for the first floor, +the other for the second. The milkmaid had placed them there +for the time being, and had gone over to have a little morning +chat with her neighbour. Herr Carovius went to his lumber-room, +which also served as the kitchen, took down a jug of vinegar, +came back, looked around with all the caution he could summon, +and then poured half of the contents of the jug into one can +and the other half into the other.</p> + +<p>Two days later he decided not to give Cæsar anything to eat, so +that he would terrify the neighbours by his howling. This worked. +The dog howled and whined and barked night after night. It +was enough to melt the heart of a stone. Nobody could sleep. +Andreas Döderlein went to the police, but they told him that the +case was beyond their jurisdiction.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius lay in bed rejoicing with exceeding great joy +over the fact that the people could not sleep. He became enamoured +of the idea that it might be possible, through some ingenious +invention, to rob a whole city or a whole nation of its sleep. +The inventor could then move about conscious of the fact that he +was at once the distributor and the destroyer of the world’s supply +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>of sleep. If he so elected to exploit his invention, he could +revel in the sight of an entire people pining, drying up, and +eventually dying from the want of sleep.</p> + +<p>After Cæsar had become quite savage, Herr Carovius decided +to unleash him. It was just after sunset. He slipped up to the +beast from the rear, and opened the chain lock. The dog ran +like mad through the court and the hall, and out on to the +street.</p> + +<p>Just at this moment young Baron von Auffenberg was entering +to pay Herr Carovius that promised visit. He jumped back +from the beast, but it sprang at his body, and in a jiffy the Baron +was lying full length on the pavement. Cæsar left him, made a +straight line for the open door of a butcher shop across the street, +sprang in, and snatched a fancy cut from one of the hooks.</p> + +<p>In order to see just how much damage the dog would really do, +Herr Carovius ran after him, hypocritically feigning as he ran +an expression of horror, and acting as though the beast had somehow +broken his chain and got loose. The first sight that caught +his eyes was that of the young Baron as he rose to his feet and +limped over toward his host to-be.</p> + +<p>The horror of Herr Carovius at once became real. With the +diligence of a seasoned flunkey, he stooped over, picked up the +Baron’s hat, dusted it, stammered all sorts of apologies, gazed at +high heaven like a martyred saint, and brushed the dirt from Eberhard’s +trousers. Then the dog came back, a huge piece of meat +in his mouth. The butcher came to the door and shook his +fists. The butcher’s boy stuck two fingers in his mouth, and +whistled for the police. They came, too, and Herr Carovius had +to pay for the meat.</p> + +<p>He then took the Baron into his living-room, plying him in the +meantime with innumerable questions as to how he felt. Having +been stunned by the fall, the Baron asked to lie down for a few +minutes on the couch. Herr Carovius granted his wish, smothering +him with sighs of affection and exclamations of regret.</p> + +<p>As the Baron lay on the couch, trying to regain his vital spirits, +Herr Carovius went to the piano and played the rondo from +Weber’s sonata in A flat major. His technique was superb; his +emotion was touching.</p> + +<p>After the concert the transactions began.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span><a name="INSPECTOR_JORDAN_AND_HIS_CHILDREN" id="INSPECTOR_JORDAN_AND_HIS_CHILDREN"></a>INSPECTOR JORDAN AND HIS CHILDREN</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">Benno Jordan</span> was now a senior in the <i>gymnasium</i> and had +begun to play mischievous pranks. He also declared that he was +no longer minded to tolerate the tyranny of the school, and that +he had not the slightest desire to enter the university. He was +a wilful, obstinate boy with a marked tendency to sociability. He +paid a great deal of attention to his clothes, and was proud of his +handsome face.</p> + +<p>After repeated conversations with the seventeen-year-old boy, +Jordan decided to get him a job as a clerk in the offices of the +Prudentia. He discussed the situation with the general agent, and +Alfons Diruf gave his consent. Benno began his work at fifty +marks a month.</p> + +<p>When Jordan would come home of an evening, the first thing +he would hear from Eleanore was that Benno had an engagement +with some of his friends, and that they were in the Alfas Garden, +or in the Wolf’s Glen, or in Café Merkur, where the orchestrion, +then a new invention, was being played for the first time.</p> + +<p>“Lord, what is to become of the next generation?” said Jordan, +quite worried. “All they think about is having a good time. +Why, I never in my whole life thought of merely amusing myself.”</p> + +<p>Anxious about Benno’s behaviour, Jordan called on the chief of +the clerical department. The little man with the waxened, weazened, +face expressed himself as quite satisfied with the new employé. +Jordan took him by the hand; it was his way of displaying +gratitude. And he was grateful, though it was hard for him to +subdue a feeling of solicitude. He recognised the boy’s external +amiability, but felt convinced that this merely covered and concealed +a decayed soul.</p> + +<p>Alfons Diruf was obese and gloomy. His clothes were made in +Paris, and on the ring finger of his left hand was a brilliant +diamond.</p> + +<p>Since the Prudentia had introduced the so-called workmen’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>insurance, the number of clerks on its payroll had been increased +by about twenty-five thousand. Of these eighty-four were under +Diruf’s direct supervision. They were located in three rooms +of a house in Fürther Street. They were pale and they were +silent. Diruf himself had a private office which resembled the +boudoirs of a woman of the world. The curtains were of blue +silk, a bathing nymph by Thumann hung on the wall, and the +whole place smelled of musk.</p> + +<p>Three times a day he would leave his fair retreat, and, with +the mien of disgust, make the rounds of the clerks’ quarters. +When they saw him coming, heads ducked, hands scurried across +the books, feet stopped scraping, and all whispering died out.</p> + +<p>He gave the impression of a man who hated his job, but in +reality he loved it. He liked the clerks because of their servile +docility and their famished faces. He liked them because they +came promptly every morning and went away every evening tired +as tired could be, and because day after day, year in and year out, +they sat there and wrote, wrote, wrote.</p> + +<p>He liked the inspectors because day after day, year in and year +out, they did a great deal of work for a very little money. He +liked the agents and sub-agents who made it possible for the company +to issue hundreds of new policies every day. He liked their +dirty clothes and tattered boots, their hungry looks, their misleading +but effective line of talk, and their sad faces.</p> + +<p>The special bait of the workmen’s insurance was the small +premium, carrying with it a small policy. In this way the man +of small means was to be educated in thrift. As a rule, however, +the small man realised, when it was too late, that the agent had +promised more than the company could do. He became distrustful; +his weekly savings were so scant that it was impossible +for him to pay his premiums regularly; with the expiration of +each week it became increasingly difficult to make up the back +payments, and, before he knew precisely what had happened, his +policy had been declared void, and the money he had paid in +on it confiscated.</p> + +<p>In this way the company made millions. It was the pfennigs +of the poorest classes that constituted these millions, made the +dividends rise higher and higher, increased the army of clerks, +and filled the pockets of the agents.</p> + +<p>These agents were recruited from the scum of human society. +They were made up of bankrupts, decadent students, gamblers, +topers, and beggars. They came from the ranks of those who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>had been pursued by misfortune and who bore the marks of crime. +No one was too small or too bad.</p> + +<p>Alfons Diruf, however, saw that it would vastly improve the +credit of the company if to this list of outcasts he would add a +few eminently respectable citizens. He consequently went out +on his own responsibility, and looked for help. His quest brought +him to Jason Philip Schimmelweis.</p> + +<p>“It’s a gold mine,” he said; “you work for an ideal, and you +get something out of it for yourself. Ideals, incidentally, that +are not profitable are idiotic.” With that he blew the smoke +of his Havana cigar through his nose.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip understood. It was not necessary to flatter the +leader and politician that was admittedly in him. He nearly +ran his legs off working for the company. Alfons Diruf loved +this socialist bookkeeper, after a fashion.</p> + +<p>Inspector Jordan saw however that the countless brokers were +encroaching on his territory and stirring up distrust on the part +of his better clients. He lost his interest. The directors felt +obliged to send Alfons Diruf a critical memorandum explaining +Jordan’s case, and showing that he was no longer as efficient as +he used to be.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Daniel had grown tired of his room in the attic and the society +of brush-maker Hadebusch. He announced that he was going to +move. Surrounded by a cloud of smells from boiled cabbage, +Frau Hadebusch raged about the ingratitude of man. Her shrieks +called Herr Francke and the Methodist from out their warm holes; +the brush-maker and his imbecile son also appeared in the dimly +lighted vestibule; and before these five Hogarth figures stood the +defenceless sinner, Daniel Nothafft.</p> + +<p>He looked about in the suburbs of St. Mary, but found everything +too dear. He went out to New Gate, but everything was +taken. He tried the St. John district, and that pleased him best +of all. Late in the afternoon he came to a house in the Long +Row, at the entrance to which hung a “To Let” sign.</p> + +<p>He pulled the bell cord, and a beautiful servant girl took him +into a room. Through the window he could look out on a garden +filled with old trees. A spinster came in, and smiled at the +pleasure he took in the room and the view.</p> + +<p>“I must see my sister,” she said, as he asked her about the price.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p><p>She called out into the hall, and her sister, likewise an elderly +and kindly spinster, came in. They held a council, the deliberations +of which were conducted in muffled tones, and then agreed +that they would have to consult Albertina. She was the third +sister. The first tip-toed to the door and, with pointed lips, +called the name, Albertina, out into the long hall with as +much coyness as had been employed in summoning the second +sister.</p> + +<p>Albertina was the youngest of the three; she was about forty. +But she had forgotten, like Jasmina and Saloma, to erase twenty +years from the calendar: all three had preserved the youthful +charm of their girlhood.</p> + +<p>Albertina blushed as she looked at the young man, and her +modesty was contagious; the two sisters also blushed. She told +Daniel that they were the Rüdiger sisters. With that she remained +silent, and looked down as though she had divulged her +entire fate. She informed Daniel that they had decided to rent +the room to some dependable young man, because there had been +considerable petty thieving in the neighbourhood of late and they +would like to enjoy the protection of a man, for they were +entirely alone, except for the boy who tended the garden. They +told him also that they had had several offers, but that they had +declined them because they did not like the appearance of the +applicants. In affairs of this kind, indeed in everything, the +three sisters were always of like mind.</p> + +<p>Fräulein Saloma asked Daniel what he did. He replied that he +was a musician. A chorus of surprise greeted his ears, rendered +in perfect time by the three female voices. Fräulein Jasmina +asked him whether he was a singer or a violinist. He replied that +he was neither, that he was a composer, or that he at least hoped +to become one. With that an expression of intense spirituality +spread over the faces of the sisters, so that they looked like +triplets. Aha, a creative artist! “Y-e-s,” said Daniel, “if you +wish to put it that way: a creative artist.”</p> + +<p>They hopped into the corner like so many sparrows, and went +into serious conference. Fräulein Saloma, as chairman, wanted to +know whether a monthly rent of twelve marks would be too much. +No, replied Daniel, that would not be excessive. He said it +without giving the matter the slightest consideration, and then +shook hands with the sisters. Fräulein Jasmina added that he +could use the piano on the first floor whenever he wished to, and +that it merely needed tuning. Daniel shook her hand again, this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>time with special warmth. His joy had awakened in him a +measure of clumsy familiarity.</p> + +<p>Before he left the house he went out into the garden, and +stood for a while under one of the trees. A tree to myself at +last, he thought. Up in the top a blackbird was singing. Meta +the servant looked out from the door where she was standing, +astonished at it all.</p> + +<p>Fräulein Albertina said to her sisters: “He seems like an interesting +young man, but he has bad manners.”</p> + +<p>“Artists attach no importance to externalities,” replied Fräulein +Jasmina with knitted brow.</p> + +<p>“A great mistake. He always looked as if he had just come +out of a bandbox. You remember, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>The other two nodded. The three then walked down the garden +path, arm in arm.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Daniel was standing in the vegetable market before the Goose +Man Fountain, eating apples.</p> + +<p>The sun was shining, and he noticed that the shadow of the +fountain was moving slowly toward the church. It made him sad +to see that time was passing and how it was passing. When he +turned around, however, and saw that the bronze figure of the +man with the two geese under his arms was not merely indifferent +to the passing of time but confident that all is well, he could not +help but laugh.</p> + +<p>What made him laugh was partly the calm of the man: he +was always waiting for something, and he was always there. He +was likewise amused at the thought that two geese could make a man +look so contented.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>As Daniel was going home one afternoon from a piano lesson, +he met Eleanore Jordan. He told her about his new room and the +three bizarre creatures in the house in the Long Row.</p> + +<p>Eleanore had heard all about them. She said they were the +daughters of the geometrician Rüdiger, and that he had left the +town some time ago because of a quarrel with the citizens, or +rather with one of the gilds. The origin of the trouble was the +picture of a certain painter. More she did not know, other than +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>that Rüdiger had gone to Switzerland and lost his life by falling +down one of the mountains. The sisters, she said, were the laughing +stock of the town. They never left the house except on +certain days, when they went out to the nearby cemetery at the +Church of St. John to place flowers on the grave of that painter.</p> + +<p>Daniel hardly listened to what she said. They were standing +at the St. Sebaldus Church, and the chimes began to play. +“Magnificent,” he murmured, “an ascending triad in A.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore asked him how he was getting along, and looked with +regret at his sunken cheeks. Her virile expression was rather displeasing +to him. He was surprised to see how rarely she lowered +her eye lids. He said he was getting along quite well. She +smiled.</p> + +<p>“It’s terrible that a man has to have a monster in his body +that must be fed,” he remarked. “Otherwise one could storm the +heavens and steal the songs of the angels. But this was not to be. +You have first to flutter your wings until they are wounded and +break your chains, and by that time such ethereal power as you +may have had is dissipated.”</p> + +<p>He wrinkled his face until he again looked like the wily ape. +“But I am going to see it through,” he said. “I want to find out +whether God drew me from the urn as a blank or a prize.” He +could be very eloquent when he talked about himself.</p> + +<p>Eleanore smiled. It seemed to her that it was merely necessary +to bring a little order into his life. She consequently assumed +the responsibility of looking after his room.</p> + +<p>In Tetzel Street they met the inspector. As Jordan walked +along at the side of his beloved daughter, it seemed to him that +the grey walls and weather-beaten stones of the houses were no +longer so earthy or weighed down with time. Eleanore looked toward +the West into the purple glow of the setting sun. She +was not quite herself. There came moments when she suffered +from homesickness for a fairer land.</p> + +<p>She thought of Italy. She conjured up lovely visions of +sunny bays, blooming groves, and white statues.</p> + +<p>Daniel however went on toward the Füll. The workmen were +coming from the suburbs, and in their tired faces he felt that he +recognised his own world. “Oh,” he sighed, “I should like to +get nearer the stars, to make the acquaintance of more dependable +hearts, of hearts that are truer even than my own.”</p> + +<p>Just then he looked up at Benda’s window, and saw his light. +He was ashamed of himself.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p><h3>V</h3> + +<p>The first time Eleanore visited Daniel it was along toward +evening. She heard from a distance the piano and the shrill +crowing of Daniel’s voice. Down in the hall she saw three white +figures cuddled up close to each other like hens on a roost.</p> + +<p>It was the Rüdiger sisters trying to drink in the creative efforts +of the artist. That they were eavesdropping at the fount of +art they understood both in the good and the bad sense: their +enthusiasm was praiseworthy, their courtesy was deficient. When +they caught sight of Eleanore on the stairway, they were terrified, +and rustled into the adjoining room.</p> + +<p>The three elderly hearts beat impetuously. It was Jasmina’s +turn to read from Rückert’s poems. Jasmina had not the shadow +of a desire to perform; her sisters were equally disinclined to +listen.</p> + +<p>“It is not right,” the three kept saying, when they heard of +Eleanore’s visits. “It is not right.” Even Meta the maid was of +the opinion that her calls were highly unconventional.</p> + +<p>As Daniel played on and merely nodded to her, Eleanore’s eyes +fell on the mask of Zingarella. She stepped up, took it down +from the nail on the wall, and examined it in perfect silence.</p> + +<p>Daniel had in the meantime left the piano. A loud cry from +him startled her: “What the devil are you doing?” he exclaimed +in a tone of immoderate anger. He took the mask, which she +was handling so lightly and tremulously, out of her hands, and +replaced it on the nail with affectionate care.</p> + +<p>The sensitive girl at once began to cry. She turned to one +side in order to conceal her tears. Daniel was irritated, but the +first thought that occurred to him was how he could make amends +for his rudeness. He fetched a worn book, and offered to lend +it to her. It was a translation of that beautiful old novel, +“Manon Lescaut.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore came frequently after office hours, but never remained +long; she did not wish to make the people at home uneasy. +During the short time she stayed she always found a number of +things to do, such as straightening up the papers on his table or +arranging his scores.</p> + +<p>She became acquainted with Benda; he took a liking to her. +It did him good merely to be in her presence, and he could +not understand why she did not have the same wholesome effect +on Daniel. Daniel seemed thoroughly unappreciative of the girl. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>He was like a man who goes along the street carrying a basket +full of eggs: his sole ambition for the time being is to see that not +a single egg is lost or broken.</p> + +<p>The two would frequently accompany the girl home. Daniel +always talked about himself, and Benda listened with a smile. Or +Benda talked about Daniel, and Daniel was all ears.</p> + +<p>What did people say? That Eleanore was now trotting around +with three men, whereas she formerly had only one on her string, +the Baron, and that you are going to hear from this affair.</p> + +<p>Every now and then a snip of ugly gossip reached Eleanore’s +ears. She paid not the slightest attention to it. She looked out +from her glass case on to the world with cool and cheerful +indifference, quite incapable of placing the established interpretation +on the glances of calumniators.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Benda could have sketched Daniel’s face in the darkness: the +round forehead, the little nose, pointed and mulish, the rigidly +pinched lips, the angular musician’s chin, and the deep dimples +in his cheeks.</p> + +<p>His ignorance of the musician was complete. Like all scholars, +he nurtured an ingrained distrust when it came to the supernatural +influence of art. For the great musical compositions which, in the +course of time and as a result of the homage of succeeding generations, +had come to be regarded as exemplary and incontestable, +he had a feeling of reverence. For the creations of his contemporaries +he had no ear.</p> + +<p>That it was hard to understand and appreciate, he knew. +That it was bitter not to be understood or appreciated, he had +experienced. That the discipline associated with all intellectual +work demands its tribute in the form of sacrificial renunciation +needed no proof in his case.</p> + +<p>The musician was something new to him. How did he regard +him? As a blind man whose soul was on fire. As a drunken +man who made the impression of repulsive sobriety on other men. +As an obsessed individual who was living an excruciatingly lonely +life and was unaware of it. As an unpolished peasant with the +nerves of a degenerate.</p> + +<p>The scientist wished to find the established and formulated law +in the musician—a task that could lead only to despair. The friend +surveyed the life of his friend; he allowed the personalities of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>many young men whom he had met in life to pass before his mind’s +eye. He looked for the criteria of common interests; he sought +a law, even here. He sat in the dusk, and read from the works +of the philosopher Mainländer. Then he laid the book to one side, +and said to himself: “The youth of to-day are lacerating, devastating +themselves.... It is a fearful age. Measure, proportion, and +balance are gone. Every model becomes a caricature. The individual +is absolutely dependent upon himself. The flame is without +container, and threatens to burn the hand that would check it.”</p> + +<p>In Daniel he had found his brother in fate. Music became his +brother in torture. On seeing his friend lacerated and devastated, +he saw twitch from the eye of Gorgo herself the profoundest +of wisdom. But he did not lay bare his own heart.</p> + +<p>One night, after unending conversation had brought them both +to silence—like ships which, tossed about by the winds, at last +drift into the harbour—Benda, taking up with an angry, exasperated +remark by Daniel as it echoed back from the other shore of this +silence, said: “We must not be vain. We dare not usurp a +privilege which has no other basis than our inner task. We must +never stand before our own picture. It seems to me that an +artist should be of exalted modesty, and that without this modesty +he is nothing but a more or less remarkable lout.”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked up at once. Benda’s big teeth were visible under +his bushy moustache. He had a habit of pulling his lips apart +whenever he was searching for a really incisive word.</p> + +<p>Benda continued: “The great majority of what you call talent +is ignominious. Talent is a feather duster. All that comes from +the finger tips is evil. The man who has a distinct goal and is willing +to suffer in order to reach it, that man we can use. And +otherwise—how beautiful it all is after all! Heaven is above +us, the earth is beneath us, and in between stands immortal +man.”</p> + +<p>Daniel got up, and seized Benda’s hand. There was nothing more +vanquishing than Benda’s handshake. His good strong right became +a vise in which he shook a man’s hand until it became limp, +a perfectly delightful benevolence radiating from his eyes in the +meanwhile.</p> + +<p>The two men exchanged the fraternal “thou.”</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Eleanore returned the copy of “Manon Lescaut.” When Daniel +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>asked her how she liked it, she never said a word. Since he thought +that it was an excellent book, he began to scold.</p> + +<p>She said: “I cannot read books in which there is so much talk +about love.”</p> + +<p>He gazed into space in order to allow her voice time to die +away. There was a violin tone in her speech, the charm of which +he could not escape. When he fully realised what she had said, +he laughed a short laugh, and remarked that her attitude was +one of affected coyness. She shook her head. Then he teased +her about going with young Auffenberg, and asked her whether +real love affairs were just as disagreeable to her as those related +in novels.</p> + +<p>The flaming blue of her eyes compelled him to look down. +It was not pleasant for him to admit, by action, that the expression +in her face was stronger than his own. She left, and did not +allow herself to be seen for a few days.</p> + +<p>When she returned, he was naïve enough to renew his banter. +She took her seat on the corner sofa, and looked straight into his +face: “Do we really intend to remain friends, Daniel?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>He cast a side glance of amazement at her, not because he was +particularly struck by her charming suavity and marked winsomeness, +but rather because the violin tone in her throat resounded more +strongly and clearly than ever. But it was quite impossible for +him to give an affirmative reply to her question without puckering +up his lips and putting his hands in his trouser pockets.</p> + +<p>She said she had no desire to seem important in his estimation, +that she merely wanted him to regard her as different from other +girls. She insisted that he concede her one privilege if they were +to remain friends: he was not to talk to her about love, either +seriously or in jest. She remarked that for months the very +word love had called up ghost-like recollections. Why this was so, +she said she could not tell him, not now, perhaps years from now +when both had grown old. She could not do it, for if she +endeavoured to refresh old memories or revive what she had half +forgotten, her whole past arose before her, flat, languid, and +insipid, easily misinterpreted by the person who heard the story, +however clear it might be to her. She repeated that this was the +way it was, and she could not help it. Once again she asked +that he spare her feelings on this point.</p> + +<p>Her face took on a serious expression; it resembled an old +picture. There was something dream-like in her words.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p><p>“Well, if that is all you have on your mind, Eleanore, I am +sure that it will be easy for me to respect your wish,” said Daniel. +There was a manifest lack of feeling in the kindness he displayed. +It seemed indeed that the secret to which she was attaching so +much importance was far removed from his egotistically encircled +world. The little fountain in the garden was rustling. He +listened to see if he could not catch the dominating tone in the +continual splashing.</p> + +<p>Eleanore turned to him now with renewed if not novel candour. +She was closer to him in every way—her eyes, her hands, and +her words.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Daniel had just completed an orchestral work which he had +entitled “Vineta.” He wished to have Benda hear it. One +evening about six Benda came in. Everything was ready. Daniel +sat down at the piano. His face was pale, his smooth upper lip +was trembling.</p> + +<p>“Now think of the sea; think of a storm; think of a boat with +people in it. Picture to yourself a wonderful <i>aurora borealis</i> and +a sunken city rising from the sea. Imagine a sea that had suddenly +become calm, and in the light a strange phenomenon. Conjure up +such a scene before your mind’s eye, or conjure up something +totally different, for this is a false way of getting at the meaning +of music. It is plain prostitution to think anything of the kind. +Ice-flat.”</p> + +<p>He was just about to begin, when some one knocked at the door. +Eleanore entered. She whisked across the room, and took her +seat on the sofa.</p> + +<p>The piece opened with a quiet rhythmical, mournful movement, +which suddenly changed to a raging presto. The melodic figure +was shattered like a bouquet of flowers in a waterfall almost before +it had had time to take shape and display real composure. The +dissipated elements, scattered to the four corners of the earth, then +returned, hesitatingly and with evident contrition, to be reunited +in a single chain. It seemed that the mad whirlwind had left +them richer, purer and more spiritual. They pealed forth now, +one after the other, in a slow-moving decrescendo, until they constituted +a solemn chorus played in moderato, melting at last into +the lovely and serious main theme, which in the finale streamed +away and beyond into infinity, dying out on an arpeggiated chord.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p><p>Where the piano failed to produce the full effect, Daniel helped +out with his crow-like voice. It was the uncanny energy of +expression that prevented his singing from having a comic effect.</p> + +<p>Benda’s eyes were so strained in the effort to listen intelligently +and appreciatively that they became dazed, glazed. Had he been +asked he could not have said whether the work was a success or a +failure. The feature of the performance that convinced him was +the man and the magnetism that radiated from the man. The +work itself he could neither fathom nor evaluate. It took hold +of him nevertheless because of its inseparable association with +the human phenomenon.</p> + +<p>Daniel got up, stumbled over to the sofa, buried his face in +his hands, and sighed: “Do you feel it? Do you really feel it?” +He then rose, lunged at the piano, seized the score, and hurled it +to the floor: “Ah, it’s no account; it is nothing; it is an abominable +botch.”</p> + +<p>He threw himself on the sofa a second time. Eleanore, sitting +perfectly motionless in the other corner, looked at him with the +eyes of an astonished child.</p> + +<p>Benda had gone to the window, and was looking out into the +trees and the grey clouds of the sky. Then he turned around. +“That something must be done for you and your cause is clear,” +he said.</p> + +<p>Eleanore stretched out her arms toward Benda as though she +wished to thank him. Her lips began to move. But when she +saw Daniel she did not dare to say a word, until she suddenly +exclaimed: “Heavens, there are two buttons on his vest which are +hanging by a thread.” She ran out of the room. In a few +moments she returned with needle and thread, which she had +had Meta give her, sat down at Daniel’s side, and sewed the +buttons on.</p> + +<p>Benda had to laugh. But what she did had a tranquilising +effect; she seemed to enable life to win the victory over the +insidious pranks of apparitions.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>In years gone by, Benda had known the theatrical manager and +impresario Dörmaul. He went to Dörmaul now, and took Daniel’s +new work along with him; for the versatile parvenu, who always +had a number of irons in the fire, also published music.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p><p>A few weeks elapsed before Benda heard from Dörmaul: “Incomprehensible +stuff! Crazy attempt to be original! You couldn’t +coax a dog away from the stove with it.” Such was Dörmaul’s +opinion.</p> + +<p>A young man with fiery red hair followed Benda to the door +and spoke to him. He said his name was Wurzelmann and that +he was a musician himself; that he had attended the Vienna Conservatory, +where his teacher had given him a letter of recommendation +to Alexander Dörmaul. He also told Benda that Dörmaul +was planning to form an opera company that would visit the +smaller cities of the provinces, and that he was to be the Kapellmeister.</p> + +<p>He spoke in the detestable idiom of the Oriental Jew. Benda +was politely cold.</p> + +<p>The main point was still to come: “Vineta” had aroused Wurzelmann’s +profound admiration; he had read the score on the side: +“A great talent, Doctor, a talent such as we have not had for a +long, long while,” said Wurzelmann.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but what am I to say about Herr Dörmaul’s opinion?” +asked Benda. He found it difficult to trust the man before him, +and was using the judgment of the man behind him as a foil.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know Dörmaul? I thought you did. Whenever +he has no authority to fear he becomes very bold. Lay the Ninth +Symphony before him without Beethoven’s name to it, and he will +tell you at once that it is rubbish. Do you want to bet?”</p> + +<p>“Honestly?” asked Benda, somewhat concerned.</p> + +<p>“Give me the score, and I’ll promise you to arouse the least +sensitive from their lethargy with it. With a work of that kind +you have got to blow the trumpet.”</p> + +<p>Benda thought it over. He had no use for trumpet-blowing, +and no confidence in those who did the blowing. And yet he +consented, for he did not feel justified in arbitrarily depriving +Daniel of a chance.</p> + +<p>It turned out that Wurzelmann had told the truth. A fortnight +later Daniel was informed that the Orchestral Union had decided +to perform his work in February. In order to provide its hearers +with a more elaborate picture of his creative ability, the Union +asked him for a second work. His compositions were perfect; +others needed revision.</p> + +<p>Wurzelmann boasted of having won his way to the seats of the +mighty. He had the cordial approval of such professors of music +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>as Wackerbarth and Herold. His masterpiece of diplomacy lay +in the fact that he had secured Andreas Döderlein as director of +the orchestra.</p> + +<p>His store of suggestions was inexhaustible, his plans without +number. He mentioned the fact that when the company was +on the road they would have to have a second Kapellmeister, since +he himself would have to function at times as substitute director: +“Leave it all to me, dear Nothafft,” he said, “Alexander Dörmaul +has got to dance to my tune, and my tune is this: It is Nothafft +or nobody for Kapellmeister.”</p> + +<p>If he began with humility, he concluded with familiarity. +Daniel hated red-headed people, particularly when they had inflamed +eyes and slobbered when they spoke.</p> + +<p>“He is an unappetising fellow, your Wurzelmann,” he said to +Benda, “and it is embarrassing to me to be indebted to him. He +imagines he flatters me when he speaks contemptibly of himself. +What he deserves is a kick or two.”</p> + +<p>Benda was silent. Touched by Wurzelmann’s devoted efforts, +he had called him <i>servule</i>, or the “little slave.” It was pleasant +to think that there was some one to remove the stumbling blocks +from the road, so that the feet of him who had risen from obscurity +might find a place to walk. But the little slave was filled with +the admiration of the Jew, born in poverty and oppression, for the +genius of the other race.</p> + +<p>Benda knew this. He was uneasy at the thought of it; for +other and no less disingenuous fanatics regarded Wurzelmann’s +behaviour merely as a racial peculiarity.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>Summer with its hot August days had come. The two friends +took frequent walks out to the suburbs, strolling through the forests +of Feucht and Fischbach, or climbing the high hills about the city.</p> + +<p>Eleanore joined them on one of these excursions. It was a joy +to see her drink in the fragrance of the flowers and the fir trees +or study the various cloud formations and the alternating scenes of +the landscape. When she did this she was like a bird gliding +along on noiseless wing in the upper regions, far removed from +the grime of the earth, bathing in the undefiled air of the clouds.</p> + +<p>She listened to the conversation of the friends with intelligent +attention. A piercing glance or a wrinkle of the brow showed +that she was taking sides, and accepting or rejecting in her own +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>mind the views that were being set forth. If she was moved to +express an opinion of her own, she generally hit the nail on the +head.</p> + +<p>As they were returning home, night set in. The sky was clear; +the stars were shining. There were a great number of falling +stars. Eleanore remarked that she really did not have as many +wishes as she could express under these circumstances. The erudite +Benda replied with a smile that in these August nights there were +frequently so many groups of asteroids that the whole firmament +seemed to be in motion, and that one could easily grow tired of +so many wishes.</p> + +<p>Eleanore wanted to know what an asteroid was. Benda explained +it to her as well as he could. Then he told her all about constellations +and the milky way, and explained to her that the latter +consists of millions of individual stars. He also spoke of the size +of the stars; and since he referred to them occasionally as suns +and worlds, she became somewhat sceptical, and asked him whether +there were any earths among the stars. “Earths? What do you +mean by earths?” he asked. “Why, earths, just like the one we +live on,” she replied. Having been told that there were earths +among the stars, Eleanore raised a number of rather cleverly +framed questions about the trees and animals and people that might +be found on these other earths. She was told that it was highly +probable that they were all inhabited about as our own: “Why +should this globe enjoy special privileges?” he asked. He added, +however, that even if the inhabitants of the other earths did not +have the same mental faculties that we have, they were at least +beings endowed with reason and instinct.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to tell me that such people as you and Daniel +and I may be living up there in those starry regions?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p>“And that there are countless peoples and humanities up among +the stars of whom we know nothing at all?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore sat down on a milestone by the roadside, gazed out +into space with trembling lips, and broke out crying. Benda took +her hand, and caressed it.</p> + +<p>“I am awfully sorry for all those peoples up there,” Eleanore +sobbed, looked up, smiled, and let the tears take their course. +Benda would have liked to take Daniel by the arm, and shout into +his ear: “Look at her now!” Daniel was looking at her, but he did +not see her.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p><h3>XI</h3> + +<p>One evening in October, Inspector Jordan left his house in +Broad Street, buttoned his top coat more closely about him, and +walked hastily through a connecting alley that was so narrow that +it seemed as if some one had taken a big knife and cut the houses +in two. His goal was Carolina Street. It was late, and he was +hungry. Doubting whether Gertrude would have a warm supper +ready for him, he went to an inn.</p> + +<p>He had spent two full hours there trying to get a rich hops +dealer to take out some insurance. The man had him explain +over and over again the advantages of insurance, studied the tables +backwards and forwards, and yet he was unable to come to a +decision. Then the waiter brought him his dinner. There he +sat, smacking his lips with the noise of human contentment, his +great white napkin tied under his chin in such a fashion that the +two corners of it stuck out on either side of his massive head, +giving the appearance of two white ears. He had offended Jordan’s +social instincts: he had not thought it worth while to wait +for an invitation.</p> + +<p>Among other guests in the inn was Bonengel, the barber. He +recognised Jordan and spoke to him. He took a seat in the background, +picked out the ugliest and greasiest of the waitresses, and +ordered a bulky portion of sausage and sauerkraut.</p> + +<p>He told lascivious anecdotes. When the waitress brought him +his food, she tittered, and said: “He is a jolly good fellow, Bonengel +is.”</p> + +<p>Jordan began to eat rapidly, but soon lost his appetite, pushed +his plate to one side, propped his chin on his hands, and stared at +the immobile clouds of tobacco smoke before him.</p> + +<p>He had a feeling that it was no longer possible to keep at this +work day after day, year in and year out. Running from one end +of the city to the other, up and down the same stairs, through +the same old streets—he could not do it. Answering the same +questions, making the same assertions, refuting the same objections, +praising the same plan in the same words, feigning the same interest +and quieting the same distrust day after day—no, he could not do +it. Disturbing the same people in their domestic peace, prodding +himself on to new effort every morning, listening to the same +curtain lectures of that monster of monsters, the insatiate stock +market, and standing up under the commands of his chief, Alfons +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>Diruf—no, he was no longer equal to it. It was all contrary to +the dignity of a man of his years.</p> + +<p>He was ashamed of himself; and he was fearfully tired.</p> + +<p>He thought of his past life. He recalled how he had risen +from poverty, and worked up to the position of a highly respected +merchant. That was when he was in Ulm. There he had married +Agnes, the blond daughter of the railroad engineer.</p> + +<p>But why had he never become rich? Other men who were distinctly +inferior to him in shrewdness, diligence, and polish were +now wealthy; he was poor. Three times he had been threatened +with bankruptcy, and three times friends had come to his rescue. +Then a partner joined him, invested some capital in the firm, and +the business was once more on its feet.</p> + +<p>But it turned out that this partner was a stranger to loyalty +and quite without conscience. “Jordan is a drag on the business,” +he would say to his customers, “Jordan is stupid, Jordan cannot +make a calculation.” And the partner never rested until Jordan +was paid a set sum and eased out of the firm.</p> + +<p>He then tried his fortune here and there for eight or nine +years. “Don’t worry, Jordan,” said Agnes, “everything will come +out well.” But it did not. Whatever Jordan took hold of, he +took hold of at the wrong end at the wrong time with the wrong +people.</p> + +<p>He could not get on. Not only because his hand was heavy +and his head too honest, but because he had allowed himself to +be befooled by a chimera.</p> + +<p>Early in life he had had a dream, and all his enterprise and +industry were directed toward the fulfilment of this dream. It +had been impossible: he had never been able to save up enough +money. Every time he discussed his favourite wish with Agnes, +and told her about the happy days when he would be able to live +his own life and be his own boss, she encouraged him and tried to +help him. But it seemed now that she had known all along that +he had merely been dreaming, and that her magnanimity had +prompted her not to jolt him out of his delusion.</p> + +<p>It had always seemed to him that the world of dolls was a +world in itself. He had taken an enchanted delight in picturing +the types of faces, clothes, and hair he would design for his +various dolls, big and little. Dolls of the most variegated charm +peopled his fancy: there were princesses of different degrees of +proximity to the throne, fisher maids and mermaids; there were +shepherds and shepherdesses, Casperls and lusty imps, dolls with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>heads of porcelain and dolls with heads of wax, all so faithfully +imitated that it would require anthropomorphic skill to detect +that they were not human beings. Their hair was, of course, to +be human hair. Some of them were to wear the costumes of +foreign races, while others were to be dressed up like fairy figures, +sprites, and gnomes. There was to be a Haroun al Raschid and +an Oriental Dervish.</p> + +<p>The last time he moved his choice fell on Nuremberg. He was +attracted to Nuremberg because it was the centre of the doll +industry.</p> + +<p>About this time Agnes died, and he was left alone with the +three children for whom he had to make a living. He no longer +had the courage to hope for success or prosperity; even the doll +factory had become a chimera. He had but one ambition: he +wished to lay aside ten thousand marks for each of his three daughters, +so that they would be provided for in any event after his +death. The boy, he thought, could take care of himself.</p> + +<p>Up to the present, however, he had not been able to place the +half of this sum in the bank. And now, suppose he lost his position; +suppose the frailties of old age prevented him from making +his own living; suppose he was obliged to draw on the savings of +years for his own support. How could he look his daughters +in the face in the evening of his earthly life?</p> + +<p>“The slag hid behind something in the cellar, and when his +wife tried to bring him his pants, she let them fall in the flour +bin.” This elegant remark emanated from Bonengel the barber.</p> + +<p>His auditors gurgled, the waitress roared.</p> + +<p>As Jordan walked home he could hear above the wind the voice +of Bonengel the barber. It sounded like the rattling of a pair of +hair-clippers.</p> + +<p>He disliked walking up the steps to his front door; they were +so narrow; they creaked as though they were ready to fall down; +and he was always afraid he would meet some blind people. An +oculist lived on the first floor, and he had often seen sightless persons +feeling their way around.</p> + +<p>A letter was lying on his table. The cover bore the address of +the General Agency of the Prudentia Insurance Co. He walked +up and down a while before opening it. It was his discharge +papers.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p><h3>XII</h3> + +<p>Friedrich Benda became more and more dejected. He saw +that as a private individual he would have to waste energy that +should be going into his profession. It seemed to him that he was +condemned to bury his talent in eternal obscurity.</p> + +<p>He broke off from the most of his acquaintances; with others +he quit corresponding. If friends spoke to him on the street, he +turned his head. His sense of honour had been wounded; he +was on the point of losing his self-respect.</p> + +<p>Daniel was the only one who failed to notice the change that +was coming over him. Probably he had accustomed himself to the +belief that Benda’s life was orderly and agreeable. The plebeian +prosperity of the family in which he himself lived probably made +him feel that that was the way his friend was living. At all +events he never asked any questions, and was never once struck by +the fact that Benda would sit before him for hours with his face +wrapped in bitter, melancholy gloom.</p> + +<p>Benda smiled at Daniel’s naïveté; for he felt that his attitude +was due to naïveté and nothing more. He harboured no resentment. +He decided not to say a word about his condition to Daniel, +then all taken up with himself and his music. It was, however, +at times impossible for him to prevent his smarting and his desire +to put an end to his ineffectual existence from breaking through +the coating of reserve in which he had encased himself.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon of a dismal day, Benda called for Daniel +just as he was finishing one of his piano lessons. The two friends +decided to take a walk and then dine together at Benda’s.</p> + +<p>In the hallway they met the Rüdiger sisters as they were returning +from their daily stroll through the garden. Benda greeted +them with an antiquated politeness; Daniel just barely touched +the rim of his hat. The sisters lined up as if ready for a cotillion, +and returned the greetings with infinite grace. Fräulein Jasmina +let a rose fall, and when Benda picked it up for her, she pressed +her hand against her scarcely noticeable breast and gave voice to +her gratitude, again with infinite grace.</p> + +<p>When they reached the street, Benda said in a tone of compassion: +“They are three delicate creatures; they live their lonely +lives like vestal virgins guarding a sacred fire.”</p> + +<p>Daniel smiled. “Yes, a sacred fire? Do you refer to the +incident with the painter?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do; and he was no ordinary painter, either, let me tell +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>you. I heard the whole story the other day. The painter was +Anselm Feuerbach.”</p> + +<p>Daniel knew nothing whatever about Anselm Feuerbach. He +was impressed, however, by the name, which, by virtue of a mysterious +magic, struck his ear like the chime of a noble bell. “Tell +me about him,” he said.</p> + +<p>The story was as follows: Four years before his death, that is, +six years ago, Anselm Feuerbach came to Nuremberg for the last +time to visit his mother. He was already sick in body and soul, +and was much disappointed in his alleged friends. The incessant +torture resulting from lack of appreciation had told on his health. +A few of the more enlightened citizens, however, recalled his +fame, as it floated about in the heavy air of Germany, somewhat +befogged and quite expatriated, and the Chamber of Commerce +placed an order with Feuerbach for a painting to be hung in the +Palace of Justice. Feuerbach accepted the order, choosing as his +theme Emperor Ludwig in the act of conferring on the citizens +of Nuremberg the right to free trade. When the picture was +completed, there was a great deal of dissatisfaction with it. The +merchants had expected something totally different: they had +looked for a cheap but striking canvas after the style of Kreling, +and not this dignified, classical work by Feuerbach.</p> + +<p>Nor was this all. The hanging space was so small that several +inches of the canvas had to be run into the wall, and the light +was wretched. The Chamber of Commerce proceeded at once to +make trouble with regard to the paying of Feuerbach’s bill. An +ugly quarrel arose in which Rüdiger, the geometrician, who had +always been an ardent champion of Feuerbach, took the artist’s +part. It finally reached the point where Rüdiger left the city, +swearing he would never return. His daughters had all three loved +Feuerbach from the time he lived in their father’s house.</p> + +<p>“As a matter of fact, if there ever was an amiable artist,” Benda +said in conclusion, “it was Anselm Feuerbach. Would you like to +see him? Come, then.”</p> + +<p>They were near the Cemetery of St. John. The gate was open, +and Daniel followed Benda. They walked along a narrow path, +until Benda pointed to a flat stone bearing the name of Albrecht +Dürer. After this they came to Feuerbach’s grave. A bronze +tablet, already quite darkened with age and weather, bore Feuerbach’s +face in profile. Beneath it lay a laurel wreath, the withered +leaves of which were fluttering in the wind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p><p>“What a life he lived!” said Benda in a low tone. “And what +a death he died! The death of a hunted dog!”</p> + +<p>As they walked back to the city, night came on. Daniel had +removed his hat, and was walking along at Benda’s side looking +straight ahead. Benda was as nervous as he had ever been in +his life.</p> + +<p>“A German life, and a German death,” he exclaimed. “He +stretched out his hand to give, and the people spat in it. He gives +and gives and gives, and they take and take and take, without +gratitude, yea, rather with, scorn. The only thing they study is +their consanguinity table. They make the microscope and the +catechism copulate; their philosophy and their police systems live +in <i>mésalliance</i>. Good demeanour they know not; of human agreements +they have never heard. They decide to do something, and +they do it. That is all. There is no longer a place for me in +Germany. I am leaving.”</p> + +<p>“You are going to leave? Where are you going?” asked Daniel, +in faithful amazement. Benda bit his lips, and was silent.</p> + +<p>“Do you see these big white spots here? They have neither +mountains nor rivers on them. Those are places that have never +been trod upon by European feet. There is where I am going.” +He smiled a gentle smile.</p> + +<p>“Really? When?” asked Daniel, filled with dismay at the +thought of losing his friend.</p> + +<p>“I have not decided when, but it will be soon. I have work to +do over there. I need air, room, sky, the free animal and the +free plant.”</p> + +<p>Benda’s mother came in. She was rather tall, walked with the +difficulties of age, had sharp features and deep-set eyes.</p> + +<p>She looked first at her son and then at Daniel. Then her eyes +fell on the atlas and remained fixed upon it, filled with an expression +of horror and anxiety.</p> + +<p>Daniel did not know what to say. Benda, still smiling to himself, +began to talk about other things.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>At the death of her mother, Gertrude Jordan was nine years +old. She had crept into the death chamber and sat by the bier +for three hours. Perhaps her seclusion from the world and association +with people dated from that hour. As she was leaving the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>death room, the clock on the wall struck, and a cock crowed in the +distance.</p> + +<p>“Why do you tick, clock?” she asked in a loud voice, “why do +you crow, cock?” And again: “Who makes you tick, clock, who +makes you crow, cock?”</p> + +<p>She had grown up, and no one knew anything about her. It +was even difficult for her own father to approach her; how she +was constituted, mentally and spiritually, he did not know. She +never associated with girls of her own age. Her dark eyes glowed +with wrath when she heard the senseless, sensuous laughter of +other girls.</p> + +<p>The first time she partook of the holy communion she swooned +and had to be carried out. Jordan then took her to Pommersfelden +to his sister, the widow of the district physician Kupferschmied. +At the end of one week she returned alone, completely +broken in spirit. She had seen a calf slaughtered; the sight had +made her almost insane.</p> + +<p>From the time she was fifteen years old she had insisted on +having her own bed room. When she was sixteen she demanded +that the maid be discharged; she herself did all the cooking and +kept house. As soon as she had finished her work, she would take +her seat by the quilting frame.</p> + +<p>Through her father, Benjamin Dorn had come into the family. +Gertrude liked him because Eleanore made fun of him. He did +not seem to her like a man; he reminded her rather of the languishing +angels she embroidered. He brought her all his religious +tracts and edifying pamphlets, but she could not grasp the language. +He took her to the Methodist revivals, but the noisy gnashing of +teeth at these meetings terrified her, and after a few times it was +impossible to persuade her to go back. He also recommended that +she read the Bible, but she could find nothing in it that brought +her peace of mind. It seemed that she had a wound in her soul +that would not heal. Long after she had abandoned Benjamin +Dorn and his cheap sanctimoniousness, he imagined that she still +loved him and looked up to him. She managed, however, to come +into his presence only on the rarest occasions, and then she never +spoke to him.</p> + +<p>Divine worship in the Protestant church seemed to her like a +sort of bargain day on which the people assembled to do business +with Heaven instead of on work days. She missed the dignity; +the sermons left her cold; the ritual made not the slightest appeal +to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p><p>She never heard from any one at any time a single sentence that +really enlightened her or remained fixed in her memory. It was +the jejune insipidity of an entire age, the stale flatness of the +world that she felt to the very depths of her soul. If she wished +to make her heart glow, if she became unusually fearful of the +empty air and the empty day, she stole secretly into the Church +of Our Lady or into St. Sebaldus, where the house of God was +more solemnly decorated, where there were more lights burning, +where the prayers had a more mysterious sound, the priests seemed +to be more affected by what they were doing, and where the worshipper +could sense the awful meaning of life and death.</p> + +<p>All external beauty, however, was repulsive to her. She hated +even beautiful scenery and fair weather, regarding them as temptations +to mortal man intended to lead him into some sort of folly. +She loved nothing about herself, neither her face nor her voice. +She was indeed frightened at the sound of her own deep voice. +She did not like her hair, nor had she any use for her hands.</p> + +<p>One winter evening she took from her hand the gold ring, an +heirloom from her mother, presented to her by her father, and +threw it into the creek. Then she bowed down over the ledge, +and seemed to feel as if she had relieved her soul of a great +burden.</p> + +<p>Eleanore tried time and time again to come near her sister, but +each time she was thrust back. Though Gertrude never conversed +with people, every word that was said about Eleanore reached her +ears; she felt ashamed of her sister. She could not bear the +looks of Eleanore, took an intense dislike to her, and in the end +was obliged to summon all her courage in order to return her +greeting. It was impossible for her, however, to reproach Eleanore; +for that she did not have sufficient command of language. In +truth, her control of words was exceedingly limited. Everything, +grief as well as injustice, she was forced to stifle within her own +soul. She grieved about Eleanore, and became at the same time +more and more nervous and excited. It seemed that something +about her sister was tantalising her, drawing her on, worrying her, +making her lose sleep.</p> + +<p>Her restlessness became so great that she could no longer sit +at the quilting frame; in fact, it was no longer possible for her +to do any kind of exacting work. Something drew her out of the +house, and once she was away, something forthwith drew her +back home. Her heart beat violently when she was alone, and +yet, if her father or brother or Eleanore came in, she could not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>stand their presence, and took refuge in her own room. If it was +hot, she closed the windows; if it was cold, she opened them and +leaned out. If it was quiet, she was filled with fear; if it was not +quiet, she longed for peace. She could not say her prayers; she +had none to say; her mind and soul were muted, muffled, dumb. +She felt the hours following each other in regular order as something +terrible; she wanted to skip over years, just as one might +skip over pages of a tiresome book. And when the worst came +to the worst, and she did not know what on earth to do, she ran +to the Church of Our Lady, threw herself prostrate before the +high altar, buried her face, and remained perfectly motionless +until her soul had found greater peace.</p> + +<p>Something made her go to Eleanore; she did not want to do it, +but she could not help it. She was naturally vigilant, and she +wished to ward off misfortune if possible. She was obsessed with +an uncanny feeling, a gruesome curiosity. She dogged her sister’s +steps in secret. One time she saw from a distance that Eleanore +had started off with a man who had been waiting for her. She +could not move from the spot; Eleanore caught sight of her.</p> + +<p>The next day Eleanore came to her voluntarily, and told her +quite candidly of her relation to Eberhard von Auffenberg. Concerning +what she knew of Eberhard’s fate she said nothing; she +merely indicated that he was extremely unhappy. She told her +how she had met him the previous winter on the Dutzendteich at +the ice carnival, how he ran after her, how glad she was to show +him a little friendship, and how much he needed friendship.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was silent for a long while. Finally she said, with a +voice so deep that it seemed to have burst from being too full: +“You two either must get married, or you must not see each other +any more. What you are doing is a crime.”</p> + +<p>“A crime?” said Eleanore astonished, “how so?”</p> + +<p>“Ask your conscience,” was the answer, spoken with eyes riveted +on the ground.</p> + +<p>“My conscience is quite clear.”</p> + +<p>“Then you have none,” said Gertrude harshly. “You lie, and +you are being lied to. You are sunk in sin; there is no hope for +you. That man’s evil looks! His ugly thoughts! And the +thoughts of the other men! They are all beyond redemption. +You are spotted through and through. You don’t know it, but +I do.”</p> + +<p>She got up, kicked the chair from her with her heels, and stared +at Eleanore with her mysterious black eyes: “Never mention this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>to me again,” she whispered with trembling lips, “never, never!” +With that she went out.</p> + +<p>Eleanore felt something like actual loathing for her own sister. +Filled with an indescribable foreboding, she detected in Gertrude +the adversary that fate had marked out for her.</p> + + +<h3>XIV</h3> + +<p>When the autumn days came on and it began to get cold, Daniel +was a frequent visitor at Jordan’s. Although he had a warm +stove now of his own, he took pleasure in remembering the comfortable +corner of a year ago. He had a greater affection for +things and rooms than he had for human beings.</p> + +<p>It was rare that he came in contact with Jordan, for now that +he was no longer with the Prudentia, it was hard to locate him: +he was doing odd jobs for a number of concerns, and this kept +him more or less on the go. Benno came home after office hours, +only to betake himself to his room, where he shaved and made +himself as elegant-looking as possible for the social engagements of +the evening. He did not like to be alone with Gertrude, so he +never came until after six o’clock, when he knew that Eleanore +would be at home. Realising that Eleanore was diligently pursuing +the study of French and English, and that her evenings +were therefore of great value to her, he begged her not to be +disturbed by his visits. He said that he found nothing so agreeable +as sitting still and saying nothing. After an hour or two, +however, he left, murmuring an indistinct farewell as he did so.</p> + +<p>At times he would bring a book with him and read. If he +chanced to look up, he saw Eleanore bending over the writing +table, her hair, bathed in a flood of golden light from the lamp, +falling in fine silken threads over her temples, while her mouth +was firmly closed, her lips inclined to droop at the corners, but in +a lovely fashion. Then he saw Gertrude. She did not wear her +hair loose; she put it up in a tight knot above her neck. Her +dress was no longer the Nile green; it was made of brown cloth, +and on the front was a row of glistening black buttons.</p> + +<p>At times Eleanore would make some remark to him, and he +would reply. At times the remarks between the two spun out into +a verbal skirmish. Eleanore teased, and he was gruff; or he +mocked, and Eleanore delivered a curtain lecture. Gertrude would +sit with an expression of helpless amazement on her face, and look +at the window. She purposely remained unoccupied; she purposely +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>postponed her household duties. The thought of leaving +the two alone in the room was unbearable.</p> + +<p>What Daniel did and said, how he walked or sat or stood, how +he put his hands in his pockets and smacked his lips, all this and +more aroused a sense of fear and shame in her. She regarded his +candour as impudent presumption; she looked upon his capriciousness +as malevolent irrationality; his indifferent manners and his +disposition to slander she felt certain were of a piece with the +scorn of the devil.</p> + +<p>On one occasion he dropped a caustic remark about the bigots +who contend that God is a moralising censor. Having this phase +of ethics under discussion, he also paid his respects to those people +who look upon every worm-eaten pastor as an archangel. Gertrude +got up with a jerk, and stared at him. He stood his ground; he +merely shrugged his shoulders. Gertrude whispered: “Men without +faith are worse than contagious diseases.”</p> + +<p>Daniel laughed. Then he became serious, and asked her what +she understood by faith. He wanted to know whether she felt +that faith was a matter of lip service. She replied, with bowed +head, that she could not discuss sacred matters with a man who +had renounced all religion. Daniel told her that her remark was +slanderous. He wanted to know whether she had ever taken the +pains to find out precisely how he stood in matters of religion, +and if not, was this the reason she passed such final judgment on +him with such suddenness and conviction. He asked her point +blank whether she was quite certain that her so-called faith was +better than his so-called unfaith. Not content with this, he asked +where she got her authority, her courage, her feeling of security; +whether she felt she had evidence to prove that she had carefully +examined his soul; and whether she had at any time interviewed +God.</p> + +<p>He laughed again, whistled, and left.</p> + +<p>Gertrude remained motionless for a while, her eyes fixed on the +floor. Eleanore supported her chin on her hand, and looked at +her compassionately. Gertrude began to tremble in her whole +body, and, without raising her head, she stretched out her arms to +Eleanore. Though quite unable to interpret this accusing gesture, +Eleanore was terrified.</p> + +<p>The next time Daniel came, he resumed his seat by the stove, +and remained silent for a while. Then, without the slightest +warning or apparent motivation, he began to discuss religion. And +how? With the old spirit of defiance, as if from an ambuscade +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>from which he could send out his poisoned arrows, with calculating +maliciousness and cold rebellion, with the air of a man who has +been defeated, who is now being pursued, and who is willing to +concede more to the earthly order of things than to the divine. +Thus he sat, the incarnation of blasphemy, and once more shuffled +the features of his face until he looked like the sedulous ape.</p> + +<p>Eleanore felt that he was denying both himself and God, and +that with violence. She went over to him, and laid her hand on +his shoulder. Gertrude, a death-like pallor playing over her face, +got up, passed by her and Daniel, and did not appear again that +evening. Nor did she appear the following evening. From that +time on she avoided his presence.</p> + +<p>For one remarkable second and no longer, Daniel fixed his eyes +on the shape of Gertrude’s legs. He became suddenly conscious of +the fact that she was a woman and he was a man. During this +second, one of the rarest of his life, he perceived the outer surface +of her body, but without the enveloping clothes. He thought of +her as a nude figure. It lasted only a second, but he pictured her +to himself as a nude. Everything she had said and done fell from +her like so much clothing.</p> + +<p>He had a feeling that his eyes had been opened; that he had +really seen for the first time in his life; and that what he now +saw was the body of the world.</p> + +<p>The nude picture followed him. He fought against his disquietude. +Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. +He conjured up the picture in order to destroy it with coolness +and composure; but it would not be destroyed, nor would it vanish. +One day he chanced to meet Gertrude by the beautiful fountain. +He stopped, stood as if petrified, and forgot to speak to her.</p> + + +<h3>XV</h3> + +<p>It was a cold, clear day in the middle of December. Eleanore +wanted to go skating after dinner. She was known in the entire +city for her skill on the ice. An irrepressible vivacity and sense +of freedom pulsed through her body. It seemed to her lamentable +that she should have to sit down in the overheated, sticky air of +the office among all those clerks, and write.</p> + +<p>She went, nevertheless, to the office, took her place among the +clerks, and wrote as usual. Herr Zittel’s eyes shone through the +lenses of his spectacles like two poison flasks. But she did not +make much progress; time dragged; it dragged even more heavily +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>and slowly than Herr Diruf’s feet, as he made his rounds through +the room. Eleanore looked up. She felt as if his gloomy eyes +were resting on her. Conscious of having failed to perform her +duty as she might have done, she blushed.</p> + +<p>Finally the clock struck six. The other clerks left, making much +noise as they did so. Eleanore waited as usual until they had all +gone, for she did not like to mix with them. Just then Benjamin +Dorn came wabbling in: “The Chief would like to speak to Fräulein +Jordan,” he said, and bent his long neck like a swan. Eleanore +was surprised: what on earth could Herr Diruf want with her? +Possibly it had to do with Benno.</p> + +<p>Alfons Diruf was sitting at his desk as she entered. He wrote +one more line, and then stared at her. There was something in +his expression that drove the blood from her cheeks. Involuntarily +she looked down at herself and felt her flesh creep.</p> + +<p>“You wanted to see me,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I wanted to see you,” he replied, and made a weary attempt +to smile.</p> + +<p>There was another pause. In her anxiety Eleanore looked first +at one object in the room and then at another; first at the bathing +nymph, then at the silk curtains, then at the Chinese lampshade.</p> + +<p>“Well, sweetheart,” said Herr Diruf, his smile gradually changing +into a sort of convulsion, “we are not bad, are we? By the +beard of the prophet, we are all right, aren’t we? Hunh?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore lowered her head. She thought she had misunderstood +him: “You wanted to see me,” she said in a loud voice.</p> + +<p>Diruf laid his hand, palm down, on the edge of his desk. +His solitaire threw off actual sparks of brilliancy. “I can crush +every one of you,” he said, as he shoved his hand along the edge +of the desk toward Eleanore. “That boy out there, your brother, +is an underhanded sharper. If I want to I can make him turn a +somersault, believe me.” He shoved his fat hand a little farther +along, as if it were some dangerous engine and his solitaire a +signal lamp. “I can make the whole pack of you dance whenever +I want to. Can’t I, sweetheart? <i>Capito?</i> <i>Comprenez-vous?</i>”</p> + +<p>Eleanore looked into Alfons Diruf’s smeary eyes with unspeakable +amazement.</p> + +<p>Diruf got up, walked over to her, and put his arms around her +shoulders. “Well, if the boy is a sweet-toothed tom-cat who can +easily be led astray, you are a purring pussy-cat,” he said with a +tone of terrible tenderness, and held the girl so tight in his arms +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>that she could not possibly move. “Now be quiet, sweetheart; +be calm, my little bosom; don’t worry, you little devil!”</p> + +<p>Horror, hot and cold, came over her, and filled her with unnamable +dismay. Contact with the man had a more gruesome +effect on her than anything she had ever even dreamed of. One +jerk as though it were a matter of life and death, and she was +free. White as a sheet, she nevertheless stood there before him, +and smiled. It was a rare smile, something quite beyond the +bounds of what is ordinarily called a smile. Alfons Diruf was no +longer fat and fierce; he was like a pricked bubble; he was done +for. And finding himself alone, he stood there for a while and +gaped at the floor. He looked and felt hopelessly stupid.</p> + +<p>Eleanore hastened through the streets, and suddenly discovered +that she was in the Long Row. She turned around. Benda, then +on the way over to call on Daniel, caught sight of her, recognised +her by the light of the gas lamp, stopped as she passed by him, +and looked after her not a little concerned.</p> + +<p>When she reached home, she sank down on the sofa exhausted. +To rid her mind of the memory of the past hour, she took refuge +in her longing, longing for a southern country. Her longing was +so intense, her desire to go south so fervent, that her face shone +as if in fever. But the glass case had at last been broken.</p> + +<p>The bell rang shortly before eight; she said to Gertrude: “If it +is Daniel, send him away. I cannot see any one this evening.”</p> + +<p>“Are you ill?” asked Gertrude with characteristic sternness.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; I simply do not want to see anybody,” said +Eleanore, and smiled again as she had smiled in Diruf’s office.</p> + +<p>It was Daniel, to be sure. Benda had told him that he had seen +Eleanore out in front of the house; and when he learned that she +had not been to call on Daniel, his anxiety increased. “There is +something wrong here,” he said, “you had better go see her.” +After they had talked the situation over for a while Benda accompanied +Daniel as far as Ægydius Place, in order to make sure that +he inquired after Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Gertrude opened the iron door. “Eleanore does not want you +to come in,” she said, with a trace of joy in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Why not? What has happened?”</p> + +<p>“She does not wish to see you,” said the monosyllabic Gertrude, +and gazed into the light of the hall lamp.</p> + +<p>“Is she ill?”</p> + +<p>“No!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p><p>“Then she has got to tell me herself that she does not wish to +see me.”</p> + +<p>“Go!” commanded Gertrude and tossed her head back.</p> + +<p>Her gloomy eyes hung on his, and the two stood there for a +moment opposite each other, like two racers who have come in at the +same goal at the same time but from opposite directions. Daniel +then turned around, and went down the steps in silence. Gertrude +remained standing for a time, her head sinking deeper and deeper +all the while on her breast. Suddenly she covered her face with +her hands; a cold shudder ran through her body.</p> + + +<h3>XVI</h3> + +<p>Before going to bed, Eleanore wrote a letter to Herr Zittel +informing him that she was leaving the Prudentia at once.</p> + +<p>Lying in bed, she could not sleep. She saw herself on the ice +cutting bold and novel figures. The spectators, grouped about her +in a wide circle, admired her skill. She saw the sea with fishing +smacks and coloured sails. She saw gardens full of roses.</p> + +<p>Her father and Benno had come home long ago. She heard +the bell up in the nearby church tower strike twelve—and then +one—and then two.</p> + +<p>She heard some one walking back and forth in the house; she +heard some one opening and closing a door. Then the steps died +away, and all was quiet. She got up, went to the door, and +listened. A deep sigh reached her ear from the next room. She +opened the door just a little, without making the slightest noise, +and peeped out through the crack.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was standing by the open window; she was in her +night-gown and bare feet. The moon was shining on the square +in front of the house; the glitter of the snow on the roofs made +it seem quite cold. The spooky illumination made the girl’s face +look spooky. Her loose flowing hair looked as black as ebony.</p> + +<p>Eleanore ran into the room, and closed the window. “What on +earth are you doing, Gertrude?” she exclaimed; “are you getting +ready to take your life?”</p> + +<p>Gertrude’s slender body shivered in the cold; her toes were all +bent in as if she were having a convulsion. “Yes,” she said with +marked moroseness, “that is what I would like to do.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what you would like to do?” replied Eleanore, also +trembling with cold. “And your father? Haven’t you the slightest +consideration for him? Do you want to give him more worry +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>than he already has? What is the matter with you, you crazy +girl?”</p> + +<p>“I am a sinner, Eleanore,” cried Gertrude, fell on her knees, +and clasped Eleanore about the hips. “I am a sinner.”</p> + +<p>“Yes? A sinner? What sin, pray, have you committed?” +asked Eleanore, and bent down over her.</p> + +<p>“Why am I in that house there, in that prison?” cried Gertrude, +and clasped her hands to her breast. “Evil has come over me, +evil has taken possession of me. I have evil thoughts. Look at +me, Eleanore, look at me!”</p> + +<p>Her voice had now mounted to the pitch of a piercing shriek. +Eleanore stepped back from her, terror-stricken. Gertrude fell +head first on the floor. Her hair covered her bent and twitching +back.</p> + +<p>The door leading to Jordan’s room opened, and he himself +came in carrying a lighted candle. In default of pajamas, he had +thrown a chequered shawl around his shoulders, the fringes of +which were dangling about his knees. He had a white-peaked +night-cap on his head.</p> + +<p>Quite beside himself, he looked at the two girls and wanted +to say something; but he was speechless. When much worried +he would always smirk. It was a disagreeable habit. In Eleanore +it always aroused a feeling of intense compassion. “There is nothing +wrong, father,” she stammered, and made an awkward gesture +which indicated to him that it would be most agreeable to her if +he would go away. “Gertrude has pains in her stomach; she tried +to go to the medicine chest to get a few drops. Please go, father; +I’ll put her to bed.”</p> + +<p>“I will go to the doctor, or I will call Benno and have him +go,” said Jordan.</p> + +<p>“No, father, it is not necessary. Please go away!”</p> + +<p>He appreciated Eleanore’s impatience and obediently withdrew, +shielding the light of the candle with his hand; his gigantic +shadow followed along behind him like some unclassified animal.</p> + +<p>“Get up, Gertrude, get up and come with me!” said Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was taken back to her room. After she had been in +bed for a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. It was +Jordan; he asked how she felt. Eleanore told him everything +was all right.</p> + +<p>Until the moon had disappeared below the church roof, Eleanore +sat on Gertrude’s bed, and held her mute hand in her own. +Though she had thrown a cloak about her shoulders, she was cold. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>Gertrude lay with open, lifeless eyes. Every movement of +Eleanore’s face revealed the changing moods of her soul: she was +thinking over an unending series of grave thoughts. When it +became quite dark, Gertrude turned her face to Eleanore, and said +softly: “Please get in bed with me, Eleanore. If I see you sleeping, +possibly I can sleep too.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore laid the cloak to one side, and slipped in under the +covers. The two girls cuddled up to each other, and in a few +minutes both were sound asleep.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span><a name="VOICES_FROM_WITHOUT_AND_VOICES_FROM_WITHIN" id="VOICES_FROM_WITHOUT_AND_VOICES_FROM_WITHIN"></a>VOICES FROM WITHOUT AND VOICES FROM WITHIN</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">Daniel</span> gradually gained followers. Those whom the “little +slave” won over to his cause were hardly to be called patrons: +they were patriots. They were delighted at the thought that a +<i>maestro</i> should have been born and risen to fame in soulful old +Franconia. In the actual life of their protégé they took but little +interest.</p> + +<p>Daniel’s followers were young people.</p> + +<p>Professor Herold was a strange man. His reputation reached far +beyond the boundaries of his native province, and yet, owing to +his whimsical peculiarities, he had not the slightest desire to leave +home. On such sons and daughters of the natives as were diligent +in their pursuit of musical studies, he poured out the whole of his +sarcasm. His chief, his darling ambition was to wean them away +from their fondness for worthless music and clap-trap performances +of it. He did not succeed: you were not considered educated +unless you could play the piano, and in the homes of these merchants +education was highly regarded.</p> + +<p>Enticed by his name, all kinds of people came from a distance to +take lessons from Professor Herold. Having read the score of +“Vineta,” he said to two of these: “Fetch me that fellow dead or +alive.” And they fetched him.</p> + +<p>The two came more frequently to Daniel, and then others, +pupils of Professors Wackerbarth and Döderlein. At times he +would take luncheon with them in the students’ restaurant. We +will call them the long-haired, or the pale-faced. Many of them +looked like snake-charmers. They were almost without exception +hopelessly stupid, but they all had some kind of a bee in their +bonnet.</p> + +<p>There were some young girls among them; we will call them +the dreamy-eyed, or the lost-in-dreams. Daniel had no use for +them whatsoever. His patience with the long-haired was equally +lacking.</p> + +<p>He told “the old man,” as Professor Herold was called, of his +antipathy to these students. Professor Herold snapped like a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>vicious dog, brushed the white bristles back over his enormous head, +and said: “Well, my young original, you have made a discovery. +Don’t you know that music cajoles into its magic circle the very +riff-raff of any community? Don’t you know that music is a +subterfuge for the neglect of human duty? Don’t you know that +the voluptuous fumes it spreads over the cities results in the general +corrosion and consumption of men’s hearts? Don’t you know +that of every five hundred so-called artists, four hundred and +ninety-nine are nothing but the cripple guard of God above? +Therefore he who does not come to music with the holiest fire +burning in the depths of his soul has his blood in time transformed +by it into glue, his mind into a heap of rubbish.”</p> + +<p>Whereat he pushed Daniel out of the door, so that he might +work undisturbed on his little pictures. Of these the walls of his +room were full. He painted them in his leisure hours. They +were small in size, and smaller still in merit; but he was proud +of them. They represented scenes from country life.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>On New Year’s Eve, Dörmaul, the impresario, gave a dinner in +the Little Swan, to which he invited Daniel. Dörmaul was quite +well disposed toward Daniel. He said he had recognised the young +man’s talents at the sight of his very first note. He promised to +publish “Vineta” and also the work Daniel had finished in the +meantime, entitled “Nuremberg Serenade.” He also seemed inclined +to consider favourably Daniel’s appointment in his newly +founded opera company.</p> + +<p>Among those present at the dinner were Professors Herold and +Wackerbarth, Wurzelmann, a few of the long-haired and a few +of the lost-in-dreams. Andreas Döderlein had promised to come +in later. He appeared, as a matter of fact, five minutes before +midnight, and stood in the wide-opened door as ceremonious as +the New Year itself.</p> + +<p>He went up to Daniel, and extended him his right hand.</p> + +<p>“Look who’s here! Our Benjamin and our John, not to mention +our Daniel,” he said, glancing at the last of the trio. “Congratulations, +my young star! What do the annals from Andreas +Döderlein’s nose for news have to report? Back in Bayreuth, +when we used to draw our wine by the flask, he merely had to +sniffle around a bit to know just how things were. Isn’t that true, +Benjamin?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p><p>Nobody denied it. Benjamin let right yield to mercy. The +mighty man removed his storm-cape from his shoulders as though +it were ermine he were doffing before condescending to associate +with ordinary mortals.</p> + +<p>Professor Wackerbarth had a wife who beat him and gave him +nothing to eat: he regarded this as a rare opportunity to eat his +fill and have a good time generally. But it was a poor sort of a +good time.</p> + +<p>One of the long-haired sang the champagne song, and Wurzelmann +made a witty speech. Döderlein suggested that now was the +time to let the mice dance and the fleas hop. When one of the +lost-in-dreams sang David’s March, which according to the rules +of Bayreuth could not be classed as real music, Döderlein exclaimed: +“Give me Lethe, my fair one.” By “Lethe” he meant punch.</p> + +<p>Daniel drank Lethe too. He embraced old Herold, shook hands +with Andreas Döderlein, and tried to waltz with Wurzelmann. +He was not drunk; he was merely happy.</p> + +<p>Then it became too close for him in the room. He took his +hat, put on his overcoat, and hurried out.</p> + +<p>The air was warm, mild. A south wind was blowing. Heaven +above, heaven below, the houses were standing on clouds. One +breath made him thirsty for the next one. There was a bay-window; +it was so beautiful that he felt like kneeling before it. +There was a fountain; it was so snug and exotic that it seemed +like a poem. There were the arches of the bridge; in them was +the dim reflection of the water. There were two towers; they +were as delicate as a spider’s web.</p> + +<p>He rejoiced and exclaimed: “Oh world, art thou real? Art +thou my world, and am I living in thee? My world, my year, +my time, and I in it all, I myself!”</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>He stood on Ægydius Place, and looked up at the windows in +Jordan’s house. They were all dark.</p> + +<p>He wanted to call out, but the name that was on his lips filled +him with anxiety. The passionate flutter of his heart almost tore +his breast asunder.</p> + +<p>He had to do something; he had to speak; he had to ask questions +and hear a human voice. Consequently, he hurried out to +the Füll, stood under Benda’s window, and called Benda’s name. +The clocks struck three.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p><p>The blinds were soon drawn to one side, and Benda’s stoutish +figure appeared at the open window. “Daniel? Is it you? +What’s up?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing. I merely wanted to bring you New Year’s greetings.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think you are bringing me something good? Go home +and go to bed.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, let me come in a little while, Friedrich. Let’s chat for a +moment or two about happiness!”</p> + +<p>“Be reasonable! We might frighten happiness away by our +talk.”</p> + +<p>“Philistine! Well, give me your blessing at least.”</p> + +<p>“You have it. Now go, night owl, and let the people sleep.”</p> + +<p>Another window opened on the ground floor. Herr Carovius’s +desolate nocturnal physiognomy appeared at the window, looked up, +looked down on the disturber of the peace on the street, and with +one mighty grim, grinning sound on his lips, his revengeful fist +swinging in the meanwhile, the indignant man closed the window +with a bang.</p> + +<p>Something impelled Daniel to return to Ægydius Place. Again +he looked up at the windows, this time beseechingly. The storm +within his heart became more violent. For a long time he ran +through the streets, and reached home at last along toward five +o’clock.</p> + +<p>As he passed through the dark hall, he saw a light up on the +landing. Meta was carrying it. She was already stirring about, +ready to begin her morning’s work. He hesitated; he looked at +her; with three steps he was by her side.</p> + +<p>“So late?” she whispered with premonitory embarrassment, and +began to finger her dress, which she had not yet buttoned up.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what a joy to take hold of a living human being on this +glorious day!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She offered some resistance, but when he tried to take her into +her room, she bent her body backward, and thus pressed about +his wrist. She was still carrying the light.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if you only knew how I feel, Meta. I need you. Hold +me tight in your arms.”</p> + +<p>She made no more resistance. Perhaps she too was not without +her fervent desire. Perhaps it was the time of day that made +nature more insistent than usual. Perhaps she was suffering from +loneliness in the company of the three sisters. It was still night +and dark; but for her it was already day; it was the first day in +the year, and she greeted it in festive mood. She yielded to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p><p>She was a virgin; she had no idea of the responsibility she was +taking upon herself. Man had never been exactly a mystery to +her, but now she felt for the first time the congenerous creature—and +she gave in to him.</p> + +<p>Daniel returned to earth after having knocked at the portals +of the gods with tremendous wishes. The gods smiled their profoundest +smile; for they had decided to have an especial fate +arise from this hour.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>A meeting of the Social Democrats was being held in Gosten +Court. They had met to discuss the Chancellor’s speech on accident +insurance.</p> + +<p>The first speaker was Deputy Störbecker. But his voice had no +carrying power, and what he said died away almost unheard.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip Schimmelweis followed him. He presented a +fearful indictment of the government. The official representative +of the government advised him to be more reserved, whereupon he +reinvigorated himself with a draught of beer. Then he hurled the +full beaker of that wrathful scorn for which his heart, beating for +the people, was noted, at the head of the individual who was first +and foremost responsible for the affairs of the Empire. He did +not mention Bismarck by name; he spoke instead of a certain bogey. +He snatched the halo from his head, swore that he would some +day unmask him and show the people that he was a traitor, branded +his fame as a tissue of lies, his deeds as the disgrace of the century.</p> + +<p>The venomous and eloquent hatred of the pudgy little man +inflamed the minds that drank in his oratory. Jason Philip was +greeted with a tumult of applause as he took his seat. His face +was a bright scarlet red.</p> + +<p>The leaders of the party, however, were noticeably quiet. In a +moment or two, Deputy Störbecker returned with two comrades +eager to enter into a debate with Jason Philip. He followed them +into a side room. Exalted at the thought that they had been delegated +to express to him the gratitude of the party for his speech, +he smiled the smile of vanity and caressed his beard with his +fingers.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter, gentlemen? Why are you so serious? +Did I go too far? I assume complete responsibility for everything +I said. But be calm! They are getting afraid of us. The air +has a dubious odour. The French are becoming cantankerous again.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p><p>“No, Comrade Schimmelweis, that is not it. You have got to +vindicate yourself. You are a Proteus, Comrade Schimmelweis. +Your right hand does not know what your left hand is doing. +You are treating us disgracefully. You are ploughing in the +widow’s garden. You preach water and guzzle wine. You have +entered into a conspiracy with the grafters of the town. You are +in collusion with the people down at the Prudentia, and you are +filling your own coffers in this gigantic swindle. From morning +to night you enrich yourself with the hard-earned pennies of the +poor. That is sharp practice, Jason Philip Schimmelweis, sharp +practice, we say. Now you have got to sever all connection with +the Prudentia, or the Party is going to kick you out.”</p> + +<p>Then it was that Jason Philip Schimmelweis rose to his true +heights of eloquence. He insisted that his hands were clean, his +left one and also his right one; that he was working in the interest +of a good cause; and that threats could not intimidate him. He +made it plain that he would bow to no dictatorship operating under +the mask of equality and fraternity. He cried out that if the +people wanted a scandal they could have it, but they would find +him armed to the teeth. And he assured them that wherever he +went in this wide, wide world, he would find the doors open to +welcome him.</p> + +<p>He then made a sudden about-face, and left his comrades standing. +On the way home he continued to murmur murmurs of +embitterment to himself.</p> + +<p>Like a seasoned sailor eager to escape the storms of a raging sea, +he steered his good ship toward other and more hospitable shores. +Three days later he went to Baron Siegmund von Auffenberg, the +leader of the Liberals, and offered him his services. He told him +that he was willing to make any sacrifice for the great Liberal +Party.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>For thirty-five minutes, by his own watch, he cooled his heels +in the ante-chamber. He made one caustic remark after another +touching on the arrested development of the feeling of equality +among the rich. Genuine rebel that he was, he did not repudiate +himself even when he was practising high treason.</p> + +<p>When he was finally taken into the office, he was not blinded +in the slightest by the luxuriousness of the furniture, the rugs, or +the oil paintings. He displayed not the remotest shimmer of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>servility on meeting the illustrious Baron. He sat down on one +of the chairs with complete equanimity, took no notice of the +French-speaking parrot, and never cast a single glance at the breakfast +table covered with appetising tid-bits. But he did present +his case with all due straightforwardness and simplicity.</p> + +<p>“Fine,” said the Baron, “fine! I hardly believe that you will +find it necessary to make a radical change in your battlefront. A +conscienceless agitator you have never been. You have a family, a +home of your own; your affairs are in good condition; and in +the bottom of your heart you love order and discipline. I have +in truth been expecting you for a long while. Nor am I exaggerating +when I confess to you that you had to bolt, sooner or +later.”</p> + +<p>Jason Philip blushed with satisfaction. With the bearing of a +cabman who has just pocketed his tip, he replied: “I thank you +very much, Baron.”</p> + +<p>“On one point we are wholly agreed,” said the Baron, “and it +seems to me to be the most important—”</p> + +<p>“Quite right,” interrupted Jason Philip, “you allude to the +fight against Bismarck. Yes, on this point we are, I hope, of +precisely the same opinion. I will do my part. Hand and heart +on it, Baron. I could look with perfectly cold blood on this +knight of obscurantism writhing on the rack.”</p> + +<p>Herr von Auffenberg heard this temperamental statement with +noticeably tenuous reassurance. He smiled just a little, and then +said: “Wait a minute, my friend, don’t be quite so savage.” He +reached for his smelling salts, held them to his nose, and closed +his eyes. Then he got up, folded his hands across his back, and +walked up and down the room a few times.</p> + +<p>What he said after this was as familiar to him as the letters of +the alphabet. While Jason Philip gaped at his lips in dumb +inspiration, the Baron himself thought of things that had not the +remotest connection with what he said.</p> + +<p>“The very same man who tried to make the new Empire inhabitable, +with the aid of a liberal code of laws, and who brought +the long-drawn-out quarrel between the Emperor and the Pope +to a happy conclusion, is now trying, by word, thought, and deed, +gradually to destroy all liberal traditions and to proclaim the Roman +High Priest as the real creator of peace. All that the German +Chancellor could do to give the final blow to liberalism he has +done. The reaction has not hesitated to abandon the idea of the +<i>Kulturkampf</i> and to work instead in the interests of class hatred +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>and racial prejudice, nurturing them even with deeds of violence. +Faced with the crimes they themselves have committed, they will +see their own children despised and rejected.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Dépêche-toi, mon bon garçon</i>,” screeched the parrot.</p> + +<p>“I am happy at the thought of having snatched a precious booty +from the claws of anarchy, and of having won a new citizen for +the State, my dear Herr Schimmelweis. But for the time being +it will be advisable for you to keep somewhat in the background. +They will be inclined to make your change of political conviction +the subject of vociferous attacks, and that might injure the cause.”</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>What was the old Baron really thinking about while he delivered +this political speech?</p> + +<p>There was just one thought in his mind; the same sullen, concealed +anger gnawed incessantly at his heart.</p> + +<p>He thought incessantly of his son, of the contempt which he +had experienced because of him, and was still experiencing daily, +even hourly, because of the fact that Eberhard had withdrawn from +his power, had repudiated him.</p> + +<p>He could not get over the fact that he had heaped up millions, +and that Eberhard, so far as it was humanly possible to calculate—and +in accordance with the law—would some day fall heir to a +part of these millions. He knew very little about poverty; but +his poisoned mind could think of nothing else than the satisfaction +he would derive from being able, somehow, to deliver this +abortive scion of his own name and blood over to poverty. Thus +did he wish to take vengeance; thus would he punish.</p> + +<p>But it was impossible for him to wreak vengeance on his son as +he would have liked to: between the execution of the punishment +and himself stood the law. The very thought that his riches were +increasing daily, hourly, that the millions he had were creating new +millions without his moving a finger, that he could not even stop +the flood if he wished to, and that consequently the share of this +disloyal, rebellious, and hateful son was becoming larger daily, even +hourly—this thought he could not endure. It poisoned his peace +of mind, paralysed his powers, robbed him of all natural and +legitimate joy, and enveloped his days in a cloud of despair.</p> + +<p>A modern Midas, he transformed everything he touched into +gold; and the more gold he had the sadder his life became, the +more revengeful his soul.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p><p>The tones of a piano reached his ear; it was his wife who was +playing. She played Mendelssohn’s “Song Without Words.” He +shook with disgust; for of all things repulsive, music was to him +the most repulsive.</p> + +<p>“<i>Dépêche-toi, mon bon garçon</i>,” screeched the parrot.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>During Jason Philip’s absence, poorly dressed people frequently +came to the shop and demanded that Theresa give them back the +money they had paid in on their insurance.</p> + +<p>Some of them became very much excited when Theresa told +them that she would do nothing of the kind, that the insurance +was the affair of her husband, and that she had nothing whatever +to do with it. A locksmith’s apprentice had given a sound thrashing +to Zwanziger, the clerk, who had hastened up to protect the wife +of his employer. A gold-beater from Fürth had created so much +excitement that the police had to be called in. A cooper’s widow, +who had managed to pay her premiums for one year, but had been +unable to continue the payment for the quite sufficient reason that +she had been in the hospital, fell headlong to the floor in epileptic +convulsions when she heard how matters stood.</p> + +<p>It finally reached the point where Theresa was frightened every +time she saw a strange face. She breathed more easily when a +day had passed without some disagreeable scene, but trembled at +the thought of what might happen on the day to come.</p> + +<p>What disturbed her more than anything else was the inexplicable +disappearance of small sums of money; this had been going on +for some time. A man came into the office once and laid his +monthly premium, one taler in all, on the counter. When he +left, Theresa closed the door behind him in order that she might +be able to watch the snow storm from the window. When she +returned to the desk the taler had disappeared. She asked where +it was. Jason Philip, who was just then handing some books up +the ladder to Zwanziger, became so gruff that one might have +thought she had accused him of the theft. She counted the money +over in the till, but in vain; the taler had vanished.</p> + +<p>She had forgotten, or had not noticed, that Philippina had been +in the office. She had brought her father his evening sandwiches, +and then gone out again without making the slightest noise; she +wore felt shoes.</p> + +<p>On another occasion she missed a number of groschen from her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>purse. On still another, a spice merchant came in and demanded +that she pay a bill of three marks. She was certain she had already +paid it; she was certain she had given Philippina the money to pay +it. Philippina was called in. She, however, denied having anything +to do with it, and acted with such self-assurance that Theresa, +completely puzzled, reached down in her pocket and handed over +the three marks in perfect silence.</p> + +<p>She had suspected the maid, she had suspected the clerk. She +even suspected Jason Philip himself; she thought that he was +appropriating money to pay his drinking expenses. And she suspected +Philippina. But in no case could she produce the evidence; +her spying and investigating were in vain. Then the thieving +stopped again.</p> + +<p>For Philippina, who had been doing all the stealing, feared +she might be discovered, and adopted a less hazardous method of +making herself a rich woman: she stole books, and sold them to the +second-hand dealer. She was sly enough to take books that had +been on the shelves for a long while, and not to do all her business +with one dealer: she would go first to one and then to another.</p> + +<p>The money which she scraped together in this way, as secretly +and greedily as a jack-daw, she hid in the attic. There was a +loose brick in the wall near the chimney. This she removed; and +in time she removed other bricks. And once her treasures were +safely stored in the hole, she would replace the bricks and set a +board up against them.</p> + +<p>When everything had become perfectly quiet and she felt wholly +at ease, she would sit down, fold her hands, and give herself up +to speechless meditation, an evil and fanatic dream playing over +her features as she did.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>One evening in February, Theresa and Philippina chanced to be +sitting by the lamp mending the week’s wash. Jason Philip entered +the room; there was a sheepish expression on his face; he rubbed +his hands.</p> + +<p>Since Theresa did not consider it worth her trouble to ask him +why he was in such a good humour, he suddenly laughed out loud +and said: “Now we can pack up, my dear. I see it in writing: +The wonder of the age, or the humiliated relatives. A touching +tableau presented by Herr Daniel Nothafft of the Schimmelweis +family.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p><p>“I do not understand you; you are talking like a harlequin +again,” said Theresa.</p> + +<p>“Compositions by Daniel are going to be played in a public concert,” +Philippina informed her mother with that old, harsh voice +of hers.</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” asked Theresa, in a tone of evident distrust.</p> + +<p>“I read it in the paper.”</p> + +<p>“The miracle is to take place in the Harmony Society,” said +Jason Philip, by way of confirming Philippina’s remark, with an +expression of enigmatic malevolence. “There is to be a public +rehearsal on Thursday, and there is nothing on earth that can keep +me away. The music dealer, Zierfuss, has given me two tickets, +and if you want to, why, you can come along and see how they +make a local hero out of a plain loafer.”</p> + +<p>“I?” responded Theresa, in a tone of contemptuous amazement, +“not one step will I take. What have I got to do with your imbecile +concerts?”</p> + +<p>“But these gentlemen are going to be disillusioned, terribly +so,” continued Jason Philip in a threatening tone. “There is +still a certain amount of common sense left, just as there are means +of proceeding against a common, ordinary swindler.”</p> + +<p>Philippina raised her head in the mood of a person who has +come to a sudden decision: “C’n I go ’long, Pop?” she asked, her +ears as red as fire.</p> + +<p>It was more than a request. Jason Philip was startled at the +intractable expression on the girl’s face. “Sure,” he said, avoiding +as well as he could the mute opposition on the part of Theresa, +“but take a whistle along so that you can make cat calls.”</p> + +<p>He sank back with a comfortable sigh on his chair, and stretched +out his legs. Philippina knelt down and took off his boots. He +then put on his slippers. Each of them bore a motto embroidered +in red. On the left one were the words “For tired father”; on +the right one, “Consolation.”</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>Eleanore had not told her father why she had left her position +with Alfons Diruf. Nor did Jordan ask her why when he learned +that she did not wish to speak about it. He suspected that there +was some disagreeable incident back of it, and if he maintained a +strict silence it was because he feared his own wrath and grief.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p><p>She soon found another position. A schoolmate and good friend +of hers, Martha Degen, the daughter of the pastry-baker, had +married Herr Rübsam, a notary public and an old man to boot. +Eleanore visited the Rübsams occasionally, as did also her father; +and in the course of conversation it came out that Herr Rübsam +needed an assistant copyist. Since it was then impossible to +give Eleanore a desk in the office, she was allowed to do all her +work at home.</p> + +<p>Friedrich Benda had also given her a cordial letter of recommendation +to Herr Bock, Counsellor of Archives, who was just then +engaged in writing a voluminous work on the history of Nuremberg. +It would be her task to arrange Herr Bock’s muddled +manuscript.</p> + +<p>It was a laborious undertaking, but she learned a great deal +from it. Her thirsty mind would draw nourishment even from +dry and lifeless subjects.</p> + +<p>She was seized with a desire to fill up the gaps in her education. +She begged Benda first for this book and then for that one. And +after having written the whole day long, she would often sit +down and read until late at night.</p> + +<p>Everything she came in contact with she either assimilated or +shook off: she dragged nothing along in the form of surface impedimenta; +it became a part of her being, or she threw it to one +side.</p> + +<p>Daniel had not called for a long while. He was busy with +the rehearsals which Wurzelmann was conducting. Professor +Döderlein was not to take charge of the orchestra until it had been +thoroughly drilled. The programme was to consist of Daniel’s +works and the “Leonore Overture.” Wurzelmann referred to the +Beethoven number as “a good third horse in the team.”</p> + +<p>Daniel also had a lot of business to transact with the impresario +Dörmaul: the company was to go on the road in March, and many +things had to be attended to. The contract he signed was for +three years at a salary of six hundred marks a year.</p> + +<p>A few days before the public rehearsal he came to Jordan’s with +three tickets: one for Jordan himself and the other two for the +sisters. The public rehearsal was quite like a regular concert; over +a hundred persons had been invited.</p> + +<p>Jordan was just getting ready to go out. “That is fine, that +is great: I can hear some more music now. I am looking forward +to the concert with extreme pleasure. When I was a young +fellow I rarely missed a concert. But that was long ago; indeed, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>when I think it over I see how old I am. The years pass by like +milestones on the highway of life. Well, Daniel, I thank you, +thank you very much!”</p> + +<p>Eleanore’s joy was also great. As soon as her father had gone, +she remarked that Daniel had looked for Gertrude; but she had +left the room as soon as she saw him coming. Eleanore opened +the door, and cried: “Gertrude, come in, right away! I have a +surprise for you.”</p> + +<p>After a while Gertrude came in.</p> + +<p>“A ticket for you to Daniel’s concert,” said Eleanore, radiant +with joy, and handed her the green card of admission.</p> + +<p>Gertrude looked at Eleanore; and she wanted to look at Daniel. +But her heavy glance, slowly rising from the floor, barely reached +his face before it returned to its downward position, aggrieved +and pained. Then she shook her head, and said: “A ticket for the +concert? For me? Are you serious, Eleanore?” Again she shook +her head, amazed and indignant. Whereupon she went to the +window, leaned her arm against the cross bars, and pressed her +head against her arm.</p> + +<p>Daniel followed her with looks of glowing anger. “You can +take sheep to the slaughter,” he said, “you can throw thieves in a +dungeon, you can transport lepers to a hospital for incurables, +but you cannot force an emotional girl to listen to music.”</p> + +<p>He became silent; a pause ensued. Tortured at the thought +that Daniel’s eyes were riveted on her back, Gertrude turned +around, went to the stove, sat down, and pressed her cheek against +the Dutch tiles.</p> + +<p>Daniel took two steps, stood by her side, and exclaimed: “But +suppose I request that you go? Suppose my peace of mind or +something else of importance to the world, consolation, liberation, +or improvement, depends on your going? Suppose I request that +you go for one of these reasons? What then?”</p> + +<p>Gertrude had become as pale as death. She looked at him for +a moment, then turned her face to one side, drew up her shoulders +as if she were shivering with cold, and said: “Well—then—then—I’ll +go. But I will be sorry for it ... sorry for it.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore was a witness to this scene. Her eyes, wide open +when it began, grew larger and larger as it advanced through its +successive stages. As she looked at Daniel a kindly, languishing +moisture came to them, and she smiled.</p> + +<p>Daniel, however, had become vexed. He mumbled a good-bye +and left. Eleanore went to the window and watched him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>as he ran across the square, holding his hat with both hands as a +shield against the driving wind.</p> + +<p>“He is an amusing fellow,” she said, “an amusing fellow.”</p> + +<p>She then lifted her eyes to the clouds, whose swift flight above +the church roof pleased her.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>It was the original intention to begin the regular evening concert +with the third “Fidelio Overture.” Döderlein was of the +opinion that it offered no special difficulties: the general rehearsal +was to be devoted primarily to the works of the novice. He +raised his baton, and silence filled the auditorium.</p> + +<p>The “Nuremberg Serenade” opened with ensemble playing of +the wind instruments. It was a jovial, virile theme which the +violins took up after the wind instruments, plucked it to pieces +in their capricious way, and gradually led it over into the realm +of dreams. The night became living: a gentle summer wind blew, +glow worms flitted about, Gothic towers stood out in the sultry +darkness, plebeian figures crept into the narrow, angular alleys; +it was night in Nuremberg. The acclamation a glorious past with +an admonition to the future fell upon the smug complacency of +the present, the heroic mingled with the jocose, the fantastic +with the burlesque, romanticism found its counterpart, and all +this was achieved through a flood of genuine melody in which +stodginess played no part, while charm was abundant in every turn +and tune.</p> + +<p>The professional musicians were astonished; and their astonishment +was vigorously expressed in their criticisms. The general +admiration, to be sure, was somewhat deafened by the unpleasant +end that the rehearsal was destined to come to; but one critic, +who enjoyed complete independence of soul, though an unfortunate +incident in his life had compelled him to relinquish his influential +circle in the city and retire to a limited sphere of activity in the +province, wrote: “This artist has the unquestioned ability to become +the light and leader of his generation. Nature created him, +his star developed him. May Heaven give him the power and +patience indispensable to the artist, if he would be born again and +become a man above the gifts of men. If he only does not reach +out too soon for the ripe fruits, and, intoxicated by the allurements +of the lower passions, fail to hear the voice of his heart! He +has taken a lofty flight; the azure gates of renown have swung +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>wide open to him. Let him only be cautious about his second +descent into the night.”</p> + +<p>The same connoisseur found the composition of “Vineta” less +ingenious, and its instrumentation suffering from the lean experience +of a beginner. Yet even this work was strongly applauded. +The impresario Dörmaul clapped his hands until the perspiration +poured from his face. Wurzelmann was beside himself with enthusiasm. +Old Herold smiled all over his face. The long-haired +found it of course quite difficult to subdue their jealousy, but +even they were not stingy with their recognition.</p> + +<p>But how did Herr Carovius feel? His spittle had a bitter +taste, his body pained him. When Andreas Döderlein turned +to the audience and bowed, Carovius laughed a laugh of tremendous +contempt. And Jason Philip Schimmelweis? He would +have felt much more comfortable if the hand-clapping had been +so much ear-boxing, and Daniel Nothafft, the culprit, had been +the objective. The boy who had been cast out had become +the leader of men! Jason Philip put his hand to his forehead, +shook his head, and was on the point of exclaiming, “Oh, ye deceivers +and deceived! Listen, listen! I know the boy; I know +the man who has made fools of you here this evening!” He +waited to see whether the misunderstanding, the colossal swindle, +would not be cleared up automatically. He did not wait in vain.</p> + +<p>At the close of the “Serenade,” Jordan was struck by Gertrude’s +feverish paleness. He asked her whether she felt ill, but received +no reply. During the performance of the second piece she kept +putting her hands to her bosom, as if she were suffering from +repressed convulsions. Her eyes were now lifeless, now glowing +with an uncanny fire. As soon as the piece was finished, she +turned to her father and asked him to take her home. Jordan +was frightened. Those sitting next to him looked at the girl’s +pale face, sympathised with her, and made conventional remarks. +Eleanore wanted to go home too, but Gertrude whispered to her +in her imperious way and told her to stay. Familiar as she was +with Gertrude’s disposition, she thought that it was simply a passing +attack of some kind, and regained her composure.</p> + +<p>Daniel was standing at the door, talking to Benda and Wurzelmann. +He was very much excited; his two companions were +trying to appease his embitterment against Andreas Döderlein. +“Ah, the man doesn’t know a thing about his profession,” he exclaimed, +and scorned all attempts to effect a reconciliation between +him and the leader of the orchestra. “What is left of my compositions +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>is debris only. He drags the time, never even tries to +make a <i>legatura</i>, scorns a <i>piano</i> every time he comes to one, pays no +attention to <i>crescendos</i>, never retards—it is terrible! My works +cannot be played in public like that!”</p> + +<p>Gertrude and her father passed by quickly and without greeting. +Daniel was stupefied. The lifeless expression in Gertrude’s +face unnerved him. He felt as if he had been struck by a hammer, +as if his own fate were inseparably connected with that of +the girl. Her step, her eyes, her mouth were, he felt, a part of +his own being. And the fact that she passed by without even +speaking to him, cold, reserved, hostile, filled him with such intense +anger that from then on he was not accountable for what +he did.</p> + +<p>The flood of melody in Beethoven’s great work was on the +point of pouring forth from the orchestra in all its exalted ruggedness. +What happened? There came forth instead a confused, +noisy clash and clatter. Daniel was seized with violent restlessness. +It was hard enough to see his own works bungled; to see this +creation with its delicate soul and titanic power, a work which he +knew as he knew few things on this earth, torn to tatters and +bungled all around was more than he could stand. The trumpet +solo did not sound as though it came from some distant land of +fairy spirits: it was manifestly at the people’s feet and it was flat. +He began to tremble. When the calm melancholy andante, completely +robbed of all measure and proportion by the unskilled hand +of the leader and made to dissipate in senseless sounds, reached +his ear, he was beside himself. He rushed on to the platform, +seized the arm of the conductor with his icy fingers, and shouted: +“That is enough! That is no way to treat a divine creation!”</p> + +<p>The people rose in their seats. The instruments suddenly became +silent, with the exception of a cello which still whimpered from +the corner. Andreas Döderlein bounded back, looked at the mad +man, his mouth as wide as he could open it, laid the baton on the +desk, and stammered: “By Jupiter, this is unheard of!” The +musicians left their places and grouped themselves around the +strange man; the tumult in the public grew worse and worse. +They asked questions, threatened, tried to set each other at ease, +scolded and raged. In the meantime Daniel Nothafft, his head +bowed, his back bent, stood there on the platform, glowing with +anger and determined to have his revenge.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, Andreas Döderlein was sitting at the table +in the musicians’ waiting room. He looked like Emperor Barbarossa +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>in Kyffhäuser. He had well founded reason to express +his contempt for the decadence and impiety of the youth of to-day. +It was superfluous for him to remark that a man who would +conduct himself as Daniel had done should be eliminated from the +ranks of those who lay claim to the help and consideration of sane +people. The dignified gentlemen of the Orchestral Union were +of the same opinion; you could search the annals of history from +the beginning of time, and you would never find a case like this. +Mild eyes flashed, grey beards wagged. The deliberation was +brief, the sentence just. A committee waited on Daniel to inform +him that his compositions had been struck from the programme. +The news spread like wild-fire.</p> + +<p>Who was happier than Jason Philip Schimmelweis?</p> + +<p>He was like a man who gets up from the table with a full +stomach, after having sat down at it fearing lest he starve to death. +On his way home he whistled and laughed alternately and with +well balanced proportion.</p> + +<p>“There you see it again,” he said to his daughter, as she walked +along at his side, “you see it again: you cannot get blood from a +turnip any more than you can get happiness from misery. A jackass +remains a jackass, a culprit a culprit, and loafing never fails +to bring the loafer to a disgraceful end. The Devil has a short +but nimble tail; and it makes no difference how slovenly he may +conduct his business, his recruits have got to pay the piper in the +end. This will be a windfall for mother. Let’s hurry so that +we can serve it to her while it’s still hot!”</p> + +<p>And Philippina—she had never taken her eyes off the floor the +entire evening—seemed to be utterly unconscious of the fact at +present that she was surrounded by houses and people. She was a +defeated woman; she wanted to be. She had much to conceal; +her young breast was a hell of emotions, but her ugly, gloomy +old face was as inanimate and empty as a stone.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius waited at the gate. After all the other people +had gone, Daniel, Benda, Wurzelmann, and Eleanore came along. +Daniel’s storm cape fluttered in the wind; his hat was drawn down +over his eyes. Herr Carovius stepped up before him.</p> + +<p>“A heroic deed, my dear Nothafft,” he miauled. “I could embrace +you. From this time on you can count me among your friends. +Now stand still, you human being transformed into a hurricane. +I must say of course that so far as your music is concerned, I am not +with you. There is too much hullaballoo in it, and not enough +plain hellishness to suit me. But rid this country of the whole +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>tribe of Döderleins, and you will find that I am your man. Not +that I would invite you to take dinner with me, so that you could +have me make you a loan, not on your life. I am only a poor +musician myself. But otherwise I am at your service. I hope +you sleep well to-night—and get the hullaballoo out of your +music just as soon as you can.”</p> + +<p>He tittered, and then scampered away. Daniel looked at him +with a feeling of astonishment. Wurzelmann laughed, and said he +had never seen such a queer codger in all his life. All four stood +there for a while, not knowing exactly what to think, and in the +meantime it was snowing and raining. Asked by Benda where he +wished to go, Daniel said he was going home. But what could he +do at home? Why couldn’t he go home with Benda? “No,” +said Daniel, “I can’t do that: I am a burden to every one to-day, +including myself. Say, little servant, how are you feeling?” he +said, turning to Wurzelmann, “how about a drink or two?”</p> + +<p>Wurzelmann, somewhat embarrassed, said that he had an engagement. +There was something repulsive in the way he declined the +invitation.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you, with your old engagement,” said Daniel, “I don’t give +a hang where you are going; I am going along.”</p> + +<p>“No, you’re not, Daniel,” cried Eleanore. And when Daniel +looked at her in astonishment, she blushed and continued: “You +are not going with him; he is going to see some women!”</p> + +<p>The three young men laughed, and in her confusion Eleanore +laughed too.</p> + +<p>“How tragic you are, little Eleanore,” said Daniel in a tone of +unusual flippancy, “what do you want me to do? Do you think +that Wurzelmann and I are just alike when it comes to an evening’s +amusement? Do you think the earth claims me as soon as I +see a tear?”</p> + +<p>“Let him go,” whispered Benda to the girl, “he is right. Don’t +bring an artificial light into this darkness; it serves his purpose; +let him do with it as he pleases.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore looked at Benda with wide-opened eyes. “Darkness? +What do you mean? The fire then was merely a will-o’-the-wisp,” +she said, her eyes shining with pride, “I see him full of light.” +Daniel had heard what she said. “Really, Eleanore?” he asked +with greedy curiosity.</p> + +<p>She nodded: “Really, Daniel.”</p> + +<p>“For that you can have anything you want from me.”</p> + +<p>“Well then I beg you and Benda to come over to our house. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>Father will be delighted to see you, and we will have something +to eat.”</p> + +<p>“Fine. That sounds good to me. Addio, Wurzelmann, and remember +me to the girls. You are coming along, aren’t you, Friedrich?”</p> + +<p>Benda first made a few polite remarks, and then said he would +accept.</p> + +<p>“You liked it then, did you, Eleanore?” asked Daniel, as they +walked along the street.</p> + +<p>Eleanore was silent. To Daniel her silence was moving. But +he soon forgot the impression it made on him; and it was a long, +long while, indeed even years, before he recalled this scene.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>Jordan had taken Gertrude home. He was very careful not to +ask her any questions that would cause her pain. On reaching the +house he lighted a lamp and helped her take off her cloak.</p> + +<p>“How do you feel?” he asked in a kindly tone, “are you better?”</p> + +<p>Gertrude turned to one side, and sat down on a chair.</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll drink a cup of hot tea,” continued the old man; +“then my child will go to bed, and to-morrow morning she will be +all right again. Yes?”</p> + +<p>Gertrude got up. “Father,” she sighed, and felt around for the +tea table as a means of support.</p> + +<p>“Gertrude, what is the matter?” cried Jordan in dismay.</p> + +<p>She moved the upper part of her body in her characteristic +way—as though it were limp and she were trying to drag it along +with her—and a faint smile came over her face. All of a sudden +she burst out crying and ran to her room. Jordan heard her bolt +the door, looked anxiously before him, waited a moment or two, +and then crept up to her door on his tiptoes.</p> + +<p>He placed his hands under his chin and listened. Gertrude was +crying. It was an even and touching cry, not so much filled with +grief as her sobs generally were, and seemed to be expiratory +rather than the reverse.</p> + +<p>As Jordan let the lonely, unhappy, and impenetrable life of his +daughter pass by him in mental review, he became painfully aware +of the fact that this was the first time in her life that she had +ever heard real music. “Is it possible?” he asked. He tried to +think of another time that would make him disbelieve the accuracy +of his unpleasant observation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p><p>He said to himself: Her case is simple; the hitherto unknown +sweetness and power concealed in the ensemble playing of the +violins, the euphony of the orchestra, and the beauty of the melody +with all its fateful directness has made the same impression on her +that the sunlight makes on a person from whose eyes a cataract has +just been removed. Her soul has suffered from hunger; that is +where the trouble lies. She has struggled too fiercely with the +incomprehensible and the intangible.</p> + +<p>His instinct of love told him that the best thing to do was to +let her cry. It will do her good; it will relieve her soul. He +pulled a chair up to her door, sat down, and listened. When he +could no longer hear her crying, his heart grew easier.</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>Eleanore was right. Her father was quite pleased to see Daniel +and Benda. “I am proud of you,” he said to Daniel, “and for +your visit to me I thank you. I feel flattered.”</p> + +<p>“If you had stayed a half hour longer, you might feel differently +about it,” replied Daniel.</p> + +<p>Eleanore gave her father a brief account of what had taken +place at the concert. Jordan listened attentively, looked at Daniel, +and, with a wrinkle on his forehead, said, “Is it possible?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is possible; it had to happen,” said Daniel.</p> + +<p>“Well, if it had to happen, it is a good thing that it is over,” +was the dispassionate response.</p> + +<p>Eleanore took her father’s hand; the back of it was covered with +big yellow spots; she kissed it. Then she set the table, got everything +ready for the meal, went in and out of the room in a most +cheerful way, and did not forget to put the water on the stove +to boil. She had asked about Gertrude as soon as she came home, +but for some reason or other her father seemed disinclined to say +anything on the subject, from which Eleanore inferred that there +was nothing seriously wrong.</p> + +<p>Finally they sat down at the table. Eleanore was quite pleased +to see the three men whom she liked so much gathered together +in this way. There was a feeling of gratitude in her heart toward +each one of them. But she was also hungry: she ate four +sandwiches, one right after the other. When she saw that Daniel +was not eating, she stepped up behind his chair, bent over him so +far that the loose flowing hair from her temples tickled his face, +and said: “Are you embarrassed? Or don’t you like the way the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>sausages have been prepared? Would you like something else?”</p> + +<p>Daniel evaded the questions; he was out of sorts. And yet in +the bottom of his heart the contact with the girl made a pleasing +impression on him; it was in truth almost a saving impression. +For his thoughts continually and obstinately returned to the girl +who had fled, and whose presence he missed without exactly wishing +that she were at the table with the others.</p> + +<p>Benda spoke of the political changes that might, he feared, take +place because of the death of Gambetta. Jordan, who always took +a warm interest in the affairs of the Fatherland, made a number +of true and humane remarks about the tense feeling then existing +between France and Germany, whereupon the door to Gertrude’s +room opened and Gertrude herself stood on the threshold.</p> + +<p>Deep silence filled the room; they all looked at her.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, she was not wearing the dress she had on +at the concert. She had put on the Nile green dress, the one in +which Daniel saw her for the first time. Jordan and Eleanore +hardly noticed the change; they were too much absorbed in the +expression on the girl’s face. Daniel was also astonished; he could +not look away.</p> + +<p>Her expression had become softer, freer, brighter. The unrest +in which her face had heretofore been clouded had disappeared. +Even the outlines of her face seemed to have changed: the arch of +her eyebrows was higher, the oval of her cheeks more delicate.</p> + +<p>She leaned against the door; she even leaned her head against the +door. Her left hand, hanging at her side, seemed indolent, limp, +indifferent. Her right hand was pressed against her bosom. +Standing in this position, she studied the faces of those who were +sitting at the table, while a timid and gentle smile played about her +lips.</p> + +<p>Jordan’s first suspicion was that she had lost her mind. He +sprang up, and hastened over to her. But she gave him her hand, +and offered no resistance at all to being led over to the table.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she fixed her silent gaze on Daniel. He got up involuntarily, +and seized the back of his chair. His colour changed; +he distorted the corners of his mouth; he was nervous. But when +Gertrude withdrew her hand from her father’s and extended it +to him, and when he took it and his eye met hers—he could not +help but look at her—his solicitude vanished. For what he read +in her eyes was an unreserved and irrevocable capitulation of her +whole self, and Daniel was the victor. His face grew gentle, +grateful, dreamy, and resplendent.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p><p>It was not merely the sensuous charm revealed in the feeling +which Gertrude betrayed that moved him: it was the fact that she +came as she had come, a penitent and a convert. The sublime +conviction that he had been able to transform a soul and awaken it +to new life touched him deeply.</p> + +<p>This it was that drew him to Gertrude more than her countenance, +her expression, and her body combined. And now he saw +all three—her countenance, her expression, and her body.</p> + +<p>Jordan had a foreboding of something. He felt that he would +have to take the girl in his arms and flee with her. Pictures of +future misfortune crowded upon his imagination; the hope he had +cherished for Gertrude was crushed to the earth.</p> + +<p>Benda stared at his plate in silence. Nevertheless, just as if +he had other eyes than those with which he saw earthly things, he +noticed that Eleanore’s hands and lips were trembling, that with +each succeeding second she grew paler, that she cast a distrustful +glance first at her father, then at her sister, and then at Daniel, +and that she finally, as if overcome with a feeling of exhaustion, +slipped away from her place by the table lamp, stole into a corner, +and sat down on the hassock.</p> + +<p>But after they had all resumed their seats at the table, Gertrude +sitting between Benda and her father, Eleanore came up and sat +down next to Daniel. She never took her eyes off Gertrude; +she looked at her in breathless surprise, Gertrude smiled as she +had smiled when leaning against the door, timidly and passionately.</p> + +<p>From that moment on, the conversation lagged, Benda suggested +to his friend that it was time for them to leave. They thanked +Jordan for his hospitality and departed. Jordan accompanied them +down the stairs and unlocked the front door. When he returned, +Eleanore was just going to her room: “Well, Eleanore, are you +not going to say good-night?” he called after her.</p> + +<p>She turned around, nodded conventionally, and closed the door.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was still sitting at the table. Jordan was walking up +and down the room. Suddenly she sprang up, stepped in his way, +forced him to stop, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him +on the forehead. She had never done that before.</p> + +<p>She too had gone to sleep. Jordan felt terribly alone. He +heard the street door open and close; he heard some one enter. It +was Benno. Jordan thought that his son would come in, for he +must have seen the light through the crack of the door. But Benno +evidently had no desire to see his father. He went to his room at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>the other end of the hall, and closed the door behind him just as +if he were a servant.</p> + +<p>“They are all three in bed,” thought Jordan to himself, “and +what do I know about them?”</p> + +<p>He shook his head, removed the hanging lamp from its frame, +and locked the room, holding the lamp very carefully as he did so.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>Eleanore had not seen Eberhard von Auffenberg for a number of +weeks. He wrote her a card, asking for the privilege of meeting +her somewhere. The place in fact was always the same—the +bridge at the gate to the Zoölogical Garden. Immediately after +sunset she betook herself to that point. It was a warm March +evening; there was not a breath of wind; the sky was covered with +clouds.</p> + +<p>They strolled up the castle hill, and when they had reached the +parapet, Eleanore said, gently laughing: “Now listen, I have talked +enough; you say something.”</p> + +<p>“It is so pleasant to be silent with you,” replied Eberhard in a +downcast mood.</p> + +<p>Filled with a disagreeable premonition, Eleanore sought out +one of the many hundreds of lights dimly flickering down in the +city, fixed her eyes on it, and stubbornly refused to look at any +other earthly object.</p> + +<p>“If I appeal to you at this hour,” the young Baron finally began, +“it is to a certain extent exactly as if I were appealing to the +Supreme Court. My expectations in life have, with one single +exception, been utterly and irrevocably crushed. It depends quite +upon you, Eleanore, whether I am to become and remain a useless +parasite of human society, or a man who has firmly decided to +pay for his share of happiness by an equal amount of honest work. +I offer you everything I have. It is not much, but I offer it to +you without haggling and forever. You and you alone can save +me. That is what I wanted to say to you.”</p> + +<p>He looked up at the clouds, leaning on his cane, which he had +placed behind his back.</p> + +<p>“I have forbidden you to speak of this,” whispered Eleanore +in profound dismay, “and you promised me that you would not say +anything about it.”</p> + +<p>“I gave you my promise because I loved you; I break it for the +same reason,” replied Eberhard. “I feel that such a promise is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>the act of a foolish child, when the building up or the tearing +down of a human life depends upon it. If you are of a different +opinion, I can only beg your pardon. Probably I have been +mistaken.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore shook her head; she was grieved.</p> + +<p>“It was my plan to go to England with you, and there we would +be married,” continued Eberhard. “It is quite impossible for me +to get married here: I loathe this city. It is impossible, because if +I did my people would in all probability set up some claims to +which they are no longer entitled and for which I would fight. +The mere thought of doing this repels me. And it is also impossible +because ...” at this he stopped and bit his lips.</p> + +<p>Eleanore looked at him; she was filled with curiosity. His +pedantic enumeration of the various hindrances as well as the +romanticism of his plans amused her. When she detected the +expression of downright grief in his face, she felt sorry for him. +She came one step nearer to him; he took her hand, bowed, and +pressed his lips to her fingers. She jerked her hand back.</p> + +<p>“Fatal circumstances have placed me in a most humiliating +situation; if I am not to succumb to them, I must shake them off +at once,” said Eberhard anxiously. “I was inexperienced; I have +been deceived. There is a person connected with my case who +hardly deserves the name of a human being; he is a monster in +the garb of an honest citizen. I have not the faintest idea what +I am to do next, Eleanore. I must leave at once. In a strange +country I may regain my strength and mental clearness. With +you I could defy the universe. Believe in me, have confidence in +me!”</p> + +<p>Eleanore let her head sink. The despair of this usually reserved +man touched her heart. Her mouth twitched as she sought for +words.</p> + +<p>“I cannot get married, Eberhard,” she said, “really, I cannot. +I did not entice you to me; you dare not reproach me. I have +tried to make my attitude toward you perfectly clear from the very +first time I met you. I cannot get married; I cannot.”</p> + +<p>For five or six minutes there was a silence that was interrupted +only by human voices in the distance and the sound of carriages +from the streets down in the city. In the compassion that Eleanore +after all felt for Eberhard she sensed the harshness of her unqualified +refusal. She looked at him courageously, firmly, and said: “It +is not obstinacy on my part, Eberhard; nor is it stupid anxiety, nor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>imagination, nor lack of respect. Truth to tell I have a very high +opinion of you. But there must be something quite unnatural +about me, for you see that I loathe the very idea of getting married. +I detest the thought of living with a man. I like you, but when +you touch me as you did a little while ago when you kissed my +hand, a shudder runs through my whole body.”</p> + +<p>Eberhard looked at her in astonishment; he was morose, too.</p> + +<p>She continued: “It has been in me since my childhood; perhaps +I was born with it, just as other people are born with a physical +defect. It may be that I have been this way ever since a certain +day in my life. It was an autumn evening in Pappenheim, where +my aunt then lived. My sister Gertrude and I were walking in a +great fruit garden; we came to a thorn hedge, and sitting by the +hedge was an old woman. My father and mother were far away, +and the old woman said to my sister, then about seven: Be on your +guard against everything that sings and rings. To me she said: Be +careful never to have a child. The next day the woman was found +dead under the hedge. She was over ninety years old, and for +more than fifty years she had peddled herbs in Altmühltal. I +naturally had not the vaguest idea what she meant at the time by +‘having a child,’ but her remark stuck in my heart like an arrow. +It grew up with me; it became a part of me. And when I learned +what it meant, it was a picture by the side of the picture of death. +Now you must not think that I have gone through life thus far +filled with a feeling of despicable fear. Not at all. I simply +have no desires. The idea does not attract me. If it ever does, +many questions will I ask about life and death! I will laugh at +the old woman under the hedge and do what I must.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke these last words, her face took on a strangely +chaste and fanciful expression. Eberhard could not take his eyes +from her. “Ah, there are after all fairy creatures on this flat, stale, +and unprofitable earth,” he thought, “enchanted princesses, mysterious +Melusinas.” He smiled somewhat distrustfully—as a matter +of habit. But from this moment his frank, open, wooing attachment +to the girl was transformed into a consuming passion.</p> + +<p>He was proud, and man enough to subdue his feelings. But +he yearned more than ever, and was tortured by his yearnings to +know something more than the vague knowledge he had at present +about that glass case, that spirit-chest in which, so near and yet +so far, this lovely creature lived, impervious to the touch of mortal +hands and immune to the flames of love.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p><p>“You are rejecting me, then?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, it is at least advisable that for the time being we avoid +each other’s presence.”</p> + +<p>“Advisable for me, you think. And for the time being? How +am I to interpret that?”</p> + +<p>“Well, let us say for five years.”</p> + +<p>“Why exactly five years? Why not twenty? Why not fifty? +It would be all the same.”</p> + +<p>“It seems to me that five years is just the right amount of time, +Eberhard.”</p> + +<p>“Five years! Each year has twelve times thirty, fifty-two times +seven days. Why, the arithmetic of it is enough to make a man +lose his mind.”</p> + +<p>“But it must be five years,” said Eleanore gently though firmly. +“In five years I will not have changed. And if I am just the same +in five years from now, why, we’ll talk it over again. I must not +exclude myself from the world forever. My father often says: +What looks like fate at Easter is a mere whim by Pentecost. I +prefer to wait until Pentecost and not to forget my friend in the +meantime.”</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand with a smile.</p> + +<p>He shook his head: “No, I can’t take your hand; another one of +those shudders will run through you if I do. Farewell, Eleanore.”</p> + +<p>“And you too, Eberhard, farewell!”</p> + +<p>Eberhard started down the hill. Suddenly he stopped, turned +around, and said: “Just one thing more. That musician—Nothafft +is his name, isn’t it?—is engaged to your sister, isn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Gertrude and Daniel will get married some day. But who +told you about it?”</p> + +<p>“The musician himself was in a restaurant. The fellows were +drinking, and he was so incautious as to raise his glass, and, somewhat +after the fashion of an intoxicated drum-major, he himself +drank to Gertrude’s health. For some time there was talk of his +marrying you. It is much better as it is. I can’t stand artists. I +can’t even have due respect for them, these indiscreet hotspurs. +Good night, Eleanore.”</p> + +<p>And with that he vanished in the darkness.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span><a name="IN_MEMORY_OF_A_DREAM_FIGURE" id="IN_MEMORY_OF_A_DREAM_FIGURE"></a>IN MEMORY OF A DREAM FIGURE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">One</span> evening Daniel called on Benda to take leave of him for +a long while.</p> + +<p>Just as he was about to enter the front gate, he saw Herr +Carovius’s dog standing there showing his teeth. The beast’s bloodshot +eyes were fixed on a ten-year old girl who was likewise on +the point of entering the house, but, afraid of the dog, she did +not dare take another step. The animal had dragged his chain +along behind him, and stood there now, snarling in a most vicious +way.</p> + +<p>Daniel took the child by the hand and led it back a few steps, +after he had frightened the dog into silence by some rough commands. +“Who are you?” he asked the girl.</p> + +<p>“Dorothea Döderlein,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said Daniel. He could not help but laugh, for there was +a comic tone of precociousness in the girl’s manner of speaking. +But she was a very pretty child. A sly, smiling little face peeped +out from under her hood, and her velvet mantle with great pearl +buttons enshrouded a dainty figure.</p> + +<p>“You should have been in bed long ago, Dorothea,” said Daniel. +“What will the night watchman think when he comes along and +finds you up? He will take you by the collar, and lead you off +to jail.”</p> + +<p>Dorothea told him why she was still up and why she was alone. +She had been visiting a school friend, and the maid who called +for her wanted to get a loaf of bread from the bakery before +going up stairs. She related the story of her meeting with the +dog with so much coquetry and detail that Daniel was delighted at +the contrast between this rodomontade and the quaking anxiety in +which he first found her.</p> + +<p>“You are a fraud, Dorothea,” said Daniel, and called to mind the +unpleasant sensation she aroused in him when he saw her for the +first time years ago.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile the maid had come up with the loaf of bread; +she looked with astonishment at the two as they stood there +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>gossiping, and immediately took the child into her charge, conscious +as she was of her own dilatoriness. With a few piercing +shrieks she drove Cæsar back from the gate, and as he ran across +the street Dorothea cast one triumphant glance back at Daniel, +feeling that she had proved to him that she was not the least +afraid of the dog.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Frau Benda opened the door, closed it without saying a word, +and went into her room. She had had a violent quarrel with her +son, who had just informed her that he had accepted the invitation +of a learned society to come to England and settle down. He was +to start at the end of spring. Frau Benda was tired of travelling; +she shuddered at the thought of moving. The separation from +Friedrich seemed intolerable to her; and in his flight from the +Fatherland she saw a final and premature renunciation of all the opportunities +that might in the end present themselves to him at home.</p> + +<p>She was convinced that the men who had done him injustice +would in time come to see the error of their ways and make amends +for their miscalculations. She was particularly anxious that he +be patient until satisfaction had been done him. Moreover, she +knew his plans, and trembled at the risks to which he was voluntarily +exposing himself: she felt that he was undertaking a task for +which he had not had the practical experience.</p> + +<p>But his decision was irrevocable. That he had never said a +word about it to Daniel, had not even insinuated that he was thinking +of making a change, was due to the peculiar onesideness of their +present relation to each other.</p> + +<p>Laughing heartily, Daniel told of his meeting with little Dorothea. +“She looks to me as though she will give old Döderlein a +good deal to think about in the days to come,” said Daniel.</p> + +<p>“You played him a pretty scurvy trick, the old Döderlein,” replied +Benda. “The night after the public rehearsal I heard him +walking up and down for hours right under my bedroom.”</p> + +<p>“You feel sorry for him, do you?”</p> + +<p>“If I were you, I would go to him and beg his pardon.”</p> + +<p>“Do you really mean it?” exclaimed Daniel. Benda said nothing. +Daniel continued: “To tell the truth, I should be grateful +to him. It is due to his efforts that I have come to see, more +quickly than I otherwise would have done, that those were two impossible +imitations to which I wanted to assure a place in the sun. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>They may throw me down if they wish; I’ll get up again, depend +upon it, if, and even if, I have in the meantime gulped down the +whole earth.”</p> + +<p>Benda smiled a gracious smile. “Yes, you die at each fall, and +at each come-back you appear a new-made man,” he said. “That +is fine. But a Döderlein cannot come back, once his contemporaries +have thrown him over. The very thing that means a new idea to +you spells his ruin; what gives you pleasure, voluptuous pleasure, is +death to him.”</p> + +<p>“Y-e-s,” mumbled Daniel, “and yet, what good is he?”</p> + +<p>“The spirit of nature, the spirit of God, is a total stranger to +such conceptions as harmfulness and usefulness,” replied Benda in +a tone of serious reflection. “He lives, and that is about all you +can say. So far as I am concerned, I have not the slightest reason +to defend a Döderlein in your presence.” He was silent for a +moment and took a deep breath. “I cannot speak more distinctly; +somehow or other I cannot quite find the right words,” he continued +in a disconcerted way, “but the point is, the man has committed +a crime against a woman, a crime so malicious, subtle, and +naïve, that he deserves every stigma with which it is possible to +brand him, and even then he would not be adequately punished.”</p> + +<p>“You see,” exclaimed Daniel, “he is not only a miserable musician. +And that is the way it always is. They are all like that. +Oh, these bitter-sweet, grinning, pajama-bred, match-making, +ninnying, super-smart manikins—it makes your blood curdle to look +at one of them. And yet a real man has got to run the gauntlet +before them his whole life long, and down through their narrow +little alleys at that!”</p> + +<p>“Rather,” said Benda with bowed head. “It is a tough, clammy +poison pap. If you stir it with your finger, you will stick fast, +and it will suck the very marrow out of your bones. But you are +speaking for the time being without precise knowledge of all the +pertinent material, as we say in science. During my study of the +cells of plants and animals, I came to see that a so-called fundamental +procreation was out of the question. I gave expression to +this view in a circle of professional colleagues. They laughed at +me. To-day it is no longer possible to oppose the theory I then +advanced. One of my former friends succeeded in making certain +combinations of acetic acid, crystallised by artificial means. When +he made his great discovery known, one of the assembled gentlemen +cried out: ‘Be careful, doctorette, or your amido atoms will +get out of their cage.’ That is a sample of the base and treacherous +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>fashion in which we are treated by the very people who we might +think were our warmest friends, for they are apparently trying to +reach the same goal that we are. But you! The world may +reject you, and you still have what no one can take from you. +I have to wait in patience until a judge hands down a decision +either condemning me or redeeming me. You? Between you +and me there is the same difference that exists between the seed +which, sunk into the earth, shoots up whether it rains or shines, and +some kind of a utensil which rusts in the store because no one buys +it.”</p> + +<p>He got up and said: “You are the more fortunate of us two, it +behooves me therefore to be the more merciful.”</p> + +<p>Daniel could make no reply that would console him.</p> + +<p>As he went home, he thought of the fidelity and the constant +but unassuming help he had received from Benda. He thought +of the refined and delicate consideration of his friend. He +thought especially of that extraordinary courtesy which was so +marked in him, that, for example, while laughing at a good joke, +Benda would stop with open mouth if some one resumed the conversation: +he did not wish to lose anything another might wish to +say to him.</p> + +<p>He stopped. It seemed to him that he had neglected the opportunity +to put an especially reassuring, cordial, and unforgettable +force into his final handshake. He would have liked to turn back. +But it is not the custom to turn back; no one in truth can do it.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Daniel did not wish to take the mask of Zingarella with him +on his tours. To expose the fragile material to all the risks associated +with a fortuitous life on the road seemed to him an act +of impiety. He had consequently promised Eleanore to leave the +mask with her in Jordan’s house during his absence.</p> + +<p>Eleanore opened the door; Daniel entered. Gertrude arose +from her seat at the table, and came up to meet him. Her face +showed, as it always did when she saw him, unmistakable traces of +resignation, willingness, submissiveness.</p> + +<p>Daniel walked over to the table, took the newspaper wrapping +from the mask, and held it up in the light of the lamp.</p> + +<p>“How beautiful!” exclaimed Gertrude, whose senses were now +delighted at the sight of any object that appealed to one’s feelings.</p> + +<p>“Well, take it, then, Gertrude,” said Eleanore, as she leaned both +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>elbows on the top of the table. “Keep it with you,” she continued +somewhat tensely, when she noticed that Gertrude was looking at +Daniel as if to say, “May I?”</p> + +<p>“But won’t he give it to both of us?” replied Gertrude with a +covetous smile.</p> + +<p>“No, no, he simply mentioned me for courtesy’s sake,” said +Eleanore, quite positively.</p> + +<p>“Eleanore, I can scarcely tell you how I feel toward you,” said +Daniel, half confused, half angry, and then stopped with conspicuous +suddenness when the fiery blue of her eyes fell upon him.</p> + +<p>“You?” she whispered in astonishment, “you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you,” he replied emphatically. “Later I can tell everybody; +to-day it is true in a double sense: you seem to me just like +a sister.”</p> + +<p>He had laid the mask to one side and extended his left hand to +Eleanore, and then, hesitating at first, he gave Gertrude his right +hand with a most decisive gesture.</p> + +<p>Eleanore straightened up, took the mask of Zingarella, and held it +up before her face. “Little Brother,” she cried out in a teasing +tone. The pale, sweet stone face was wonderful to behold, as it +was raised above the body that was pulsing with life.</p> + +<p>And Gertrude—for one second she hung on Daniel’s gaze, a +sigh as deep as the murmuring of the sea sounded in her bosom, +and then she lay in his arms. He kissed her without saying a word. +His face was gloomy, his brow wrinkled.</p> + +<p>“Little Brother” sounded out from behind the mask. But there +was no banter in the expression; it was much more like a complaint, +a revelation of anguish: “Little Brother!”</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Daniel had left the city long ago. Eleanore chanced to meet +Herr Carovius. He forced her to stop, conducted himself in such +a familiar way, and talked in such a loud voice that the passersby +simpered. He asked all about the young master, meaning +Daniel.</p> + +<p>He told her that “the good Eberhard”—it was his way of referring +to Baron von Auffenberg—had gone to Munich for a few +months, and was taking up with spiritists and theosophists.</p> + +<p>“It is his way of having a fling,” said Herr Carovius, grinning +from ear to ear. “In former times, when young noblemen wished +to complete their education and have a little lark at the same time, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>they made the grand tour over Europe. Now-a-days they become +penny-a-liners, or they go in for table-tipping. Humanity is on +the decline, my charming little girl. To study the flower of the +nation at close range is no longer an edifying occupation. It is +rotten, as rotten, I tell you, as last winter’s apples. There is consequently +no greater pleasure than to make such a young chap +dance. You play, he dances; you whistle, he retrieves. It is a +real treat!”</p> + +<p>He laughed hysterically, and then had a coughing spell. He +coughed so violently that the black cord suspended from his nose-glasses +became tangled about a button on his great coat, and his +glasses fell from his nose. In his awkwardness, intensified by his +short-sightedness, he fumbled the button and the cord with his +bony fingers until Eleanore came to the rescue. One move, and +everything was again in order.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius was struck dumb with surprise. He would never +have imagined that a young girl could be so natural and unembarrassed. +He suspected a trap: was she making fun of him, or +did she wish to do him harm? It had never occurred to him that +one might voluntarily assist him when in distress.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he became ashamed of himself; he lifted his eyes and +smiled like a simpleton; he cast a glance of almost dog-like tenderness +at Eleanore. And then, without saying a word, without even +saying good-bye to her, he hastened across the street to hide as soon +as he might in some obscure corner.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>One afternoon in the last week of August, the Rüdiger sisters +sent the boy who attended to their garden over to Eleanore with +the urgent request that she call as soon as she possibly could. Feeling +that some misfortune had befallen Daniel and that the sisters +wished to tell her about it, Eleanore was not slow about making up +her mind: exactly one quarter of an hour later she entered the +Rüdigers’ front door.</p> + +<p>A lamentable sight greeted her. Each of the three sisters was +sitting in a high-backed chair, her arms hanging lifeless from +her sides. The curtains were drawn; in the shaded light their +faces looked like mummies. Nor was the general impression measurably +brightened by the “Medea,” the “Iphigenie,” and the +“Roman Woman” that hung on the wall, copies of the paintings of +their idol.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p><p>Eleanore’s greeting was not returned. She did not dare leave +without finding what was the matter, and the silence with which +she was received was broken only when she herself decided to ask +some questions.</p> + +<p>Fräulein Jasmina took out her handkerchief and dried her eyes. +Fräulein Saloma looked around somewhat like a judge at a session +of court. And then she began to speak: “We three lonely women, +forgotten by the world, have asked you to come to our house so +that we might tell you of a crime that has been committed in our +innocent home. We never heard of it until this morning. It is +such an unexampled, gruesome, abominable deed that we have been +sitting here ever since it was brought to our attention, wringing our +hands in vain attempt to make up our minds as to what course we +should pursue.”</p> + +<p>Fräulein Jasmina and Fräulein Albertina nodded their heads in +sadness and without looking up.</p> + +<p>“Can we put the unfortunate girl out of the house?” continued +Fräulein Saloma, “can we, sisters? No! Can we afford to keep +her? No! What are we to do then? She is an orphan; she is +all alone, abandoned by her infamous seducer, and exposed to +unmitigated shame. What are we to do?”</p> + +<p>“And you,” said Fräulein Saloma turning to Eleanore, “you +who are bound to that gifted monster by ties the precise nature of +which we are in no position to judge, you are to show us a way out +of this labyrinth of our affliction.”</p> + +<p>“If I only knew what you are talking about,” said Eleanore, +a great burden falling from her heart as she realised that her initial +fears were groundless. “By the monster you evidently mean Daniel +Nothafft. What crime has he committed?”</p> + +<p>Fräulein Saloma was indignant at the flippancy of her manner. +She rose to her full stature, and said with punitive lips: “He has +made our maid an ordinary prostitute, and the consequences are no +longer to be concealed. Do you know what we are talking about +now?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore uttered a faint “Oh!” and blushed to the roots of her +hair. In her embarrassment she opened her mouth to laugh, but +she came very near to crying.</p> + +<p>Her saddened feelings slowly crept back to Daniel, and as the +picture of him rose before her mind’s eye, she turned from it in +disgust. But she did not wish to allow this picture to remain in her +memory: it was too flabby, petty, and selfish. Before she knew +what she was doing, she, as a woman, had pardoned him. Then +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>she shuddered, opened wide her eyes, and resumed her accustomed +cheerfulness. She was again in complete control of herself.</p> + +<p>The court had in the meanwhile examined the silent woman +with stern scrutiny: “Where is Daniel Nothafft at present?” asked +Fräulein Saloma.</p> + +<p>“I do not know,” replied Eleanore, “he hasn’t written for over +three weeks.”</p> + +<p>“We must request you to inform him at once of the condition of +the prostitute, for so long as such a person is in our house, we +cannot sleep at night nor rest by day.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry that you take the matter so to heart,” said Eleanore, +“and it is a rather disagreeable affair. But I have no right to mix +myself up in it, nor have I the least desire to do so.”</p> + +<p>The three sisters received this statement with despair; they wrung +their hands. They would rather die, they said, than meet this +voluptuary face to face again; they would endure all manner of +martyrdom before they would have him come in. All three spoke +at once; they threatened Eleanore; they implored her. Jasmina +told with bated breath how Meta had come to them and confessed +the whole business. Albertina swore that there was not another +living soul on earth who could help them out of this shameless +situation. Saloma said that there was nothing for them to do but +to send the wicked creature back to the streets where she belonged.</p> + +<p>Eleanore was silent. She had fixed her eyes on the “Medea,” and +was doing some hard thinking. Finally she came to a conclusion: +she asked whether she might speak to Meta. Filled at once with +anxiety and hope, Saloma asked her what she wanted with Meta. +She replied that she would tell them later what her purpose was. +Fräulein Jasmina showed her the way to Meta’s room.</p> + +<p>When Meta caught sight of Eleanore, her features became at +once beclouded in sombre amazement.</p> + +<p>She was sitting at the open window of her attic room knitting. +She got up and looked into the face of the beautiful girl without +saying a word. Eleanore was moved on seeing the tall, youthful +figure, and yet it was quite impossible for her to subdue a feeling +of horror.</p> + +<p>At Eleanore’s very first words, Meta began to sob. Eleanore +comforted her; she asked her where she was planning to go during +her confinement.</p> + +<p>“Why, there are institutions,” she murmured, holding her apron +before her face, “I can go to one of them.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore sat down on the side of the bed. She unrolled her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>plans to the girl with a delicacy and consideration just as if she +were speaking to a pampered lady. She spoke with a silver-clear +vivacity just as if she were discussing some hardy prank. +Meta looked at her at first with the air of one oppressed; later she +assumed the attitude of a grateful listener.</p> + +<p>Pained by the ethereal and inhuman primness of her three employers, +angry at the man who had abandoned her to her present +fate, and fighting against the reproaches of her own conscience, +Meta became as wax in Eleanore’s hands, submissive, obedient, and +appreciative.</p> + +<p>The Rüdiger sisters, all but bursting with curiosity to know +what Eleanore had in mind, could draw nothing from her other +than that she was going to take Meta away and that Meta was +agreed.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>It was Eleanore’s intention to take the pregnant girl to Daniel’s +mother at Eschenbach.</p> + +<p>She knew of the dissension between Daniel and his mother. +She knew that the two avoided each other’s presence; that Daniel +in his defiance felt it his duty to avenge himself for the lack of +love on the part of his mother. Back of the picture of the unloving +and impatient son she saw that of an old woman worrying +her life away in silent care.</p> + +<p>She had often given way to a painful feeling of sympathy when +she thought of the unknown mother of her friend. It seemed +to her now as if she could play the rôle of an emissary of reconciliation; +as if it were her duty to take the deserted woman here +to the deserted woman there; as if she were called to take the +mother-to-be to the mother who had just reasons for regretting that +she had ever been a mother.</p> + +<p>It seemed to her as if she must create a bond which could not +even be sundered by crime, to say nothing of misunderstanding or +caprice; it seemed to her that Daniel had to effect a reconciliation +in the home of the Rüdigers as well as in that of his mother; +and that, conscious as she was of doing what was right, she would +meet with no opposition, would have no settling of accounts to +fear.</p> + +<p>She also took the practical side of the matter into careful consideration: +Meta would have no trouble in making her living in +Eschenbach; she could help Daniel’s mother, or she could do day +work among the peasants.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p><p>When the child was born, Daniel’s mother would have a picture +of young life to look at; it would alleviate her longing; it would +appease her bitterness to see a child of Daniel’s own blood.</p> + +<p>Eleanore told the people at home that she was going on an +excursion with a school friend to the Ansbach country. She +studied the time-table, and wrote a postcard to Meta telling her +to be at the station at eight o’clock in the morning.</p> + +<p>Jordan approved of Eleanore’s outing, though he warned her +against bandits and cold drinks. Gertrude was not wholly without +suspicion. She had a feeling that something was wrong, that +these unspoken words referred to Daniel, for she was always thinking +about him.</p> + +<p>If she received a letter from him, which was very rare, she +would let it lie on the table for a long while, imagining that it +was full of the most glorious declarations of his love for her, expressed +in language which she could not command. In a sort of +moon-struck ecstasy she made an inner, dreamed music out of what +he wrote.</p> + +<p>When she read his letter, she was satisfied merely to see the +words he had written and to feel the paper on which his hand had +rested. She submitted in silence to the laws of his nature, which +would not permit him to be excessive in his remarks or unusually +communicative. Each of his dry reports was a tiding of glad +joy to her, though her own replies were just as dry, giving not +the slightest picture of the enraptured soul from which they +came.</p> + +<p>She felt that Eleanore was lying, and that the lie she was telling +was somehow connected with Daniel. That is why she went up +to Eleanore’s bed in the dead of night, and whispered into her +ear: “Tell me, Eleanore, has anything happened to Daniel?”</p> + +<p>But before Eleanore could reply, reassured by her sister’s +astonished behaviour, and angry at herself for having suspected +Eleanore of a falsehood, she hurried back to her own bed. She +had come to think more and more of her sister every day.</p> + +<p>“How she must love him,” thought Eleanore to herself, and +buried her smiling face in the pillow.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>“Wait for me at the fountain,” said Eleanore to her companion, +as she crossed the market place in Eschenbach at midday: “I’ll call +for you as soon as everything has been discussed.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p><p>The coachman pointed out the little house of the widow +Nothafft.</p> + +<p>A woman with a stern face and unusually large eyebrows asked +her what she wanted as she entered the little shop, which smelled of +vinegar and cheese.</p> + +<p>Eleanore replied that she would like to talk with her for a few +minutes quite undisturbed and alone.</p> + +<p>The profound seriousness of Marian’s features, which resembled +more than anything else an incurable suffering, did not +disappear. She closed the shop and took Eleanore into the living +room, and, without saying a word, pointed to one chair and took +another herself.</p> + +<p>Above the leather sofa hung the picture of Gottfried Nothafft. +Eleanore looked at it for a long while.</p> + +<p>“Dear mother,” she finally began, laying her hand on Marian’s +knee. “I am bringing you something from Daniel.”</p> + +<p>Marian twitched. “Good or bad?” she asked. She had not +heard from Daniel for twenty-two months. “Who are you?” +she asked, “what have you to do with him?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore saw at once that she would have to be extremely +cautious if she did not wish to offend the sensitive—and offended—woman +by some inconsiderate remark. With all the discrimination +she could command she laid her case before Daniel’s mother.</p> + +<p>And behold—the unusual became usual, just as the natural +seemed strange. Eleanore pictured Daniel’s hardships and rise to +fame, boasted loyally of his talents and of the enthusiasm for +him of those who believed in him, referred to his future renown, +and insisted that all his guilt, including that toward his mother, be +forgotten and forgiven.</p> + +<p>Marian reviewed the past; she understood a great many things +now that were not clear to her years ago; she understood Daniel +better; she understood virtually everything, except this girl’s +relation to him and the girl herself. If it was peculiar that this +strange woman had to come to her to tell her who Daniel was +and what he meant to the people, it was wholly inexplicable that +she had brought some one with her who had been the sweetheart +of the very man for whom she now showed unreserved affection.</p> + +<p>Eleanore read Marian’s face and became a trifle more deliberate. +It occurred to her, too, to ask herself a few questions: What +am I, any way? What is the matter with me?</p> + +<p>She could not give a satisfactory answer to these questions. His +friend? He my friend? The words seemed to contain too much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>peace and calm. Brother? Companion? Either of these words +brought up pictures of intimate association, inner relationship. +Little Brother! Yes, that is what she had called out to him once +from behind the mask. Well then: Little sister behind the mask?</p> + +<p>Yes, that was what it should be: Little sister behind the mask. +She had to have a hiding place for so many things of which she +had only a vague presentiment and which in truth she did not +care to visualise in brighter outlines. A subdued heart, a captured +heart—it glows, it cools off, you lift it up, you weigh it down just +as fate decrees. To be patient, not to betray anything, that was +the all-important point: Little sister behind the mask—that was the +idea.</p> + +<p>Marian said: “My child, God himself has inspired you with +the idea of coming to me and telling me about Daniel. I will put +fresh flowers in the window as I did some time ago, and I will leave +the front door open so that the swallows can fly in and build their +nests. Perhaps he will think then from time to time of his +mother.”</p> + +<p>Then she asked to see Meta. Eleanore went out, and returned +in a few minutes with her charge. Marian looked at the pregnant +girl compassionately. Meta was ill at ease; to every question +that was put to her she made an incoherent reply. She could +stay with her, said Marian, but she would have to work, for +there was no other way for the two to live. The girl referred to +the fact that she had already worked out for four years, and that +no one had ever accused her of lack of industry or willingness. +Thereupon Marian told her she would have to be very quiet, +that the people in the neighbourhood were very curious, and that +if she ever gave them her family history she would have to leave.</p> + +<p>This attended to, Eleanore went on her way. She refused +quite emphatically to stay for dinner. Marian thought that she +was in a hurry to catch the next coach, and accompanied her across +the square. They promised to write to each other; before +Eleanore got into the rickety old coach, Marian kissed her on the +cheek.</p> + +<p>She watched the coach until it had passed out through the city +gate. A drunken man poked her in the ribs, the blacksmith called +to her as she passed by, the doctor’s wife leaned out of the window +and asked her who the cityfied lady was. Marian paid not the +slightest attention to any of them; she went quietly and slowly +back to her house.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p><h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Thus it came about that five weeks later a daughter of Daniel +Nothafft saw the light of the world under Marian’s roof.</p> + +<p>As soon as the child was born, Marian took a great liking to it, +despite the fact that she had thought of it before its birth only +with aversion. It was a fine little creature: its little legs and arms +were delicately formed, its head was small, there was something +peculiarly human about its first cries and laughter, and it showed +quite distinctly that there was something noble in its character.</p> + +<p>The people of Eschenbach were astonished. “Where did the +child come from?” they asked. “Who is its mother? Who is its +father?” The records in the office of the registrar of births showed +that Meta Steinhäger was the mother of the illegitimate child, +Eva Steinhäger, and that its father was unknown.</p> + +<p>It was to be presumed, however, that widow Nothafft knew the +details. The old women, and the young ones too, came on this +account more frequently now than ever to her shop. They wanted +to know how the little thing was getting along, whether its milk +agreed with it, whether it had begun to teethe, whether it would +speak German or some foreign tongue, and so on.</p> + +<p>In order to quiet them, Marian told them that Meta was a poor +relative and that she was bringing up the child at her own expense. +It was not difficult to make this story seem plausible, for Meta had +very little to do with her daughter. Shortly after her confinement, +she got a job with a baker over in Dinkelsbühl, and never +visited Eva more than once a month. She cared very little for the +child. A young fellow in the bakery had fallen in love with +Meta, and wanted to marry her and move to America.</p> + +<p>At Christmas they were married, and left the country at once. +Marian was glad of it: the child now belonged entirely to her.</p> + +<p>Though the people soon became accustomed to the existence of +their diminutive fellow-townswoman, Eva was and remained the +mysterious child of Eschenbach.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>The opera company made its rounds through the small cities that +lie between the Danube and the Main, the Saale and the Neckar—and +there are many of them,—its stay in any one place depending +naturally on the interest shown by the public.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p><p>“The province is the enchanted Sleeping Beauty,” said the +impresario Dörmaul to Wurzelmann and Daniel, “the province is +still asleep, and you must rouse it from its slumbers by pressing +the kiss of the Muse on its forehead.”</p> + +<p>But the impresario was unwilling to open his pockets. The +princes who were to release Sleeping Beauty did not have sufficient +means to make a presentable appearance, while their retinue was +seedy-looking indeed.</p> + +<p>The tenor had long since passed the zenith of his career. +His massive paunch placed deadening strictures on his credentials +as the impersonator of heroes. The buffo was an inveterate toper +who had often been placed behind bars by the police for his +nocturnal excesses. The barytone had a big lawsuit on his hands +about an estate; his lawyers were two stars of obscurity from a small +village; and at times he became so vexed at the cuts of his opponents +that he lost his voice. The soprano was incessantly quarrelling with +her colleagues, and the alto was an intriguing vixen quite without +talent. In addition to these there were a dozen or so super-numeraries +and under-studies, who were bored, who played practical +jokes on each other, drew starvation wages, and had never learned +anything.</p> + +<p>The musicians were also a sorry lot. It was not rare that one or +the other of them had pawned his instrument. Once a performance +had to be postponed because the violinists had stayed over +their time at a village dance where they were playing in order to +add to their paltry income. The inspector, who was scene-shifter, +promoter, ticket seller, and publicity agent all in one, and who +was not equal to any of these positions, took French leave in the +second year and ran off with one of the chorus girls, taking the +box-office receipts for the evening with him.</p> + +<p>One time the costumes were sent to the wrong address, with the +result that Boieldieu’s “La Dame Blanche” had to be played in +woollen frocks, patched velvet skirts, filthy cotton blouses, and +French wadding.</p> + +<p>Another time the mob in “Martha” consisted of a distempered +woman, a waiter brought in at the last minute from a herring restaurant, +and the door-keeper of an orphanage: the chorus had gone +on a strike because their salaries had been held up.</p> + +<p>In Karlstadt the final act of the “Merry Wives of Windsor” +could not be played, because during the intermission Falstaff and +Mrs. Quickly had got into a fight, and the lady had scratched a +huge piece of skin from the singer’s nose.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p><p>If these musical strollers, as acting-director Wurzelmann called +the company, nevertheless made some money, it was due to the +superhuman efforts of Daniel. Wurzelmann was always mixed up +in some kind of love affair, introduced in time a ruinous system of +favouritism, and became lazier and lazier as the weeks passed by.</p> + +<p>Daniel had to pull the singers out of their beds to get them to +go to rehearsals; Daniel had to help out with the singing when +the chorus was too weak; Daniel had to distribute the rôles, tame +down refractory women, and make brainless dilettants subordinate +their noisy opinions to the demands of a work which he himself +generally detested. He had to drill beginners, abbreviate scores, +transpose voices, and produce effects with lamentably inadequate +material. And from morning to night he had to wage war eternal +against libellous action, inattention, and inability.</p> + +<p>Nobody loved him for this; they merely feared him. They +swore they would take vengeance on him, but they knuckled under +whenever they seemed to have a chance. He had a habit of treating +them with crushing coldness, he could make them look like criminals. +He had a look of icy contempt that made them clench their +fists when his eye fell on them. But they bowed before a power +which seemed uncanny to them, though it consisted in nothing more +than the fact that he did his duty while they did not.</p> + +<p>At the close of each quarter, the impresario Dörmaul appeared +on the scene to take invoice in person. His presence was invariably +celebrated by a gala performance of “Fra Diavolo,” or “The +Daughter of the Regiment,” or “Frou Frou.” On these occasions +the buffo did not get drunk, the barytone rested from the torments +of his lawsuit, the alto had a charming smile for the sympathetic +house, the soprano was as peaceful as a mine immediately after an +explosion. Not one of the chorus stayed too long in the café; +and since Wurzelmann directed, and the orchestra did not have to +feel the burning, basilisk eye of Kapellmeister Nothafft resting +on it and floating over it, it played with more precision and +produced a more pleasing feast for the ears than ordinarily.</p> + +<p>Dörmaul was not stingy with his praise. “Bravo Wurzelmann,” +he cried, “one more short year of hard work, and I’ll get you a +position in the Royal Opera House.”</p> + +<p>“Nothafft will likewise rise to fame and office,” he said, “although +I was so stupid as to publish his music, and now all this +waste paper is lying in my shop like a pound of brick cheese in a +sick stomach.”</p> + +<p>The impresario Dörmaul wore black and white striped trousers +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>of imported cut, a vest that looked like a bit of tapestry made of +pressed leather, a massive gold watch-chain from which dangled +countless fobs, a blood red tie with a diamond as big as the +Koh-i-noor and as false as an April sun, and a grey silk tile hat +which he lifted only when in the presence of privy councillors, +generals, and police presidents.</p> + +<p>To a man of this kind Daniel had the boldness to remark: +“Had you eaten cheese you would at least have digested it. Your +crowded shops are after all more desirable in my estimation than +many a head which would remain empty even if some one stuffed +the whole of the ‘Passion of St. Matthew’ into it.”</p> + +<p>Dörmaul decided to laugh. “Oho, my good fellow,” he said, +and pushed his tile hat on to the back of his head, “you are getting +all puffed up. Look out that you don’t burst. You remember +the story of Hänschen: He was awfully proud of his porridge +while sitting behind the stove; but when he went out on to the +street, he fell into the puddle.”</p> + +<p>The little slave tittered. Daniel had known for a long time +that Wurzelmann was working against him. Quite innocently, to +be sure, for half souls can admire and betray at the same time.</p> + +<p>“Envy is my only virtue,” said Wurzelmann quite openly, “I +am a genius at envying.”</p> + +<p>Daniel was not equal to such cynicism. He was stupefied by +Wurzelmann’s remark, but he did not break with the little slave; +he continued to use him. He was the only individual with whom +he could speak of himself and his work. And though he was +overburdened, owing to his present position, he nevertheless managed +to steal a few hours every day for his own work. And the +pressure from all sides fanned the flame within him.</p> + +<p>It was then that he staked out his field in order to be master +in his own realm; he turned to the song; he chose the clear, +restrained forms of chamber music; he studied with unwavering +industry the old masters; he deduced from their works the right +rules of composition; and he set these up before him like a dam +against arbitrariness and æsthetic demoralisation.</p> + +<p>He was not unmindful of the fact that by so doing he was +cutting himself off from association with men, and renouncing, +probably forever, the satisfaction that comes from monetary reward +and outward success. He knew, too, that he was not making his +life easier by adopting this course, nor was he gaining the popular +favour of the emotionalists.</p> + +<p>When he would sit in a café late at night and show Wurzelmann +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>one score after another, sing a few bars in order to bring out the +quality of a song, improvise an accompaniment, praise a melody, +or explain the peculiarity of a certain rhythm, he surprised the +little slave, and drove him into an attitude of self-defence. All +this was fundamentally new to Wurzelmann. If Daniel proved +that the new was not new after all, that the trouble lay in the +fact that the deranged and shattered souls of the present century +had lost the power to assimilate unbroken lines in their complete +purity, Wurzelmann at once became an advocate of modern freedom, +insisting that each individual should be allowed to do all +that his innate talent enabled him to vindicate.</p> + +<p>Daniel remained unconvinced. Was not the whole of life, the +rich contents of human existence, to be found in the beautiful +vessel that had been proved long ago? Could any one say that he +was displaying a spirit of greediness in his love for the classical? +And were joy and sorrow, however intense, less perceptible when +expressed through a concise, well ordered medium? “What a +distorted view a man takes when he becomes so narrow-minded,” +thought Daniel. “His ambition makes it impossible for him to +feel; his very wit militates against clear thinking.”</p> + +<p>Thus they went from town to town, month after month, year +after year. The company had in time its traditions, its <i>chronique +scandaleuse</i>, its oft-tested drawing cards, its regular patrons, its +favourite stands, and its stands that it avoided if humanly possible.</p> + +<p>The local paper greeted them editorially; the children stood on +the sidewalks to gape their fill at the ladies from the theatre; the +retired major bought a reserved seat for the first performance; the +barber offered his services; and the faculty of the Latin School +held a special meeting to decide whether they should permit their +pupils to go to the opera or not. The Young Men’s Christian +Association voiced its protest against the nude shoulders of the +<i>artistes</i>; the members of the Casino turned up their noses at the +achievements of the company; the police insisted that the booth +or hotel lobby in which they performed should be fireproof; the +wife of the mining engineer fell in love with the barytone, and +her husband hired a number of hoodlums to take their places in +the gallery and hoot and hiss when the time came. And those +who nag under any circumstances requested more cheerfulness. +They found the “Czar and Zimmermann” too dull, the “Muette +de Portici” too hackneyed. They insisted on “Madame Angot” +and “Orpheus in the Under World.”</p> + +<p>There was always something wrong.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p><p>Daniel shuddered at the mere presence of these people; he was +repelled by their occupations, their amusements, and the cadavers +of their ideals. He did not like the way they laughed; nor could +he stand their dismal feelings. He despised the houses out of +which they crept, the detectives at their windows, their butcher +shops and hotels, their newspapers, their Sundays and their work +days. The world was pressing hard upon him. He had to look +these people straight in the face, and they compelled him to haggle +with them for money, words, feelings, and ideas.</p> + +<p>He learned in time, however, to see other things: the forests on +the banks of the Main; the great meadows in the hills of Franconia; +the melancholy plains of Central Germany; the richly +variegated slopes of the Jura Mountains; the old cities with their +walls and cathedrals, their gloomy alleys and deserted castles. In +time he came to see people in a different and easier light. He +saw the young and the old, the fair and the homely, the cheerful +and the sad, the poor—and the rich so far away and peaceful. +They gave him, without discrimination, of their wealth and their +poverty. They laid their youth and their old age, their beauty +and their ugliness, their joys and their sorrows, at his feet.</p> + +<p>And the country gave him the forests and the fields, the brooks +and the rivers, the clouds and the birds, and everything that is +under the earth.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>It was winter. The company came to Ansbach, where they were +to play in the former Margrave Theatre. “Freischütz” was to be +given, and Daniel had held a number of special rehearsals.</p> + +<p>But a violent snow storm broke out on the day of the performance; +scarcely two dozen people attended.</p> + +<p>How differently the violins sounded in this auditorium! The +voices were, as it seemed, automatically well balanced; there was +in them an element of calm and assurance. The orchestra? +Daniel had so charmed it that it obeyed him as if it were a single +instrument. At the close of the last act, an old, grey-haired man +stepped up to Daniel, smiled, took him by the hand, and thanked +him. It was Spindler.</p> + +<p>Daniel went home with him; they talked about the past, the +future, men and music. They could not stop talking; nor could +the snow stop falling. This did not disturb them. They met +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>again on the following day; but at the end of the week Spindler +was taken ill, and had to go to bed.</p> + +<p>As Daniel entered the residence of his old friend one morning, +he learned that he had died suddenly the night before. It had +been a peaceful death.</p> + +<p>On the third day, Daniel followed the funeral procession to the +cemetery. When he left the cemetery—there were but few people +at the funeral—he went out into the snow-covered fields, and spent +the remainder of the day walking around.</p> + +<p>That same night he sat down in his wretched quarters, and +began his composition of Goethe’s “Harzreise im Winter.” It +was one of the profoundest and rarest of works ever created by a +musician, but it was destined, like the most of Daniel’s compositions, +not to be preserved to posterity. This was due to a tragic +circumstance.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>In the spring of 1886, the company went north to Hesse, then +to Thuringia, gave performances in a few of the towns in the +Spessart region and along the Rhoen, the box receipts growing +smaller and smaller all the while. Dörmaul had not been seen +since the previous autumn; the salaries had not been paid for some +time. Wurzelmann prophesied a speedy and fatal end of the +enterprise.</p> + +<p>An engagement of unusual length had been planned for the +town of Ochsenfurt. The company placed its last hopes on the +series, although it was already June and very warm. The thick, +muggy air of the gloomy hall in which they were to play left +even the enthusiasts without much desire to brighten up the +monotony of provincial life by the enjoyment of grand opera.</p> + +<p>They drew smaller houses from day to day. Finally there was +no more money in the till; they did not even have enough to move +to the next town. To make matters worse, the tenor was taken +down with typhus, and the other singers refused to sing until they +had been paid. Daniel wrote to Dörmaul, but received no reply. +Wurzelmann, instead of helping, fanned the easily inflamed minds +of the company into a fire of noise, malevolence, and hostility. +They demanded that Daniel give them what was due them, +besieged him in his hotel, and finally brought matters to such a +pitch that the whole town was busied with their difficulties.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p><p>One afternoon, a stately gentleman between fifty-five and fifty-six +years old entered Daniel’s room, and introduced himself as +Sylvester von Erfft, the owner of an estate.</p> + +<p>His mission was as follows: Every year, at this season, the +Chancellor of the German Empire was taking the cure at the +nearby Kissingen Baths. Herr von Erfft had made his acquaintance, +and the Prince, an enthusiastic landowner, had expressed +the desire to visit Herr von Erfft’s estate, the management of +which was widely known as excellent in every way. In order to +celebrate the coming of the distinguished guest with befitting +dignity, it had been decided not to have any tawdry fireworks or +cheap shouting, but to give a special performance of the “Marriage +of Figaro” in a rococo pavilion that belonged to the Erfft estate.</p> + +<p>“This idea comes from my wife,” said Herr von Erfft. “Some +ladies and gentlemen of noble birth who belong to our circle +will sing the various parts, and my daughter Sylvia, who studied +for two years in Milan with Gallifati, will take the part of the +page. The only thing we lack is a trained orchestra. For this +reason I have come to you, Herr Kapellmeister, to see if you could +not bring your orchestra over and play for us.”</p> + +<p>Daniel, though pleased with the kindly disposition of Herr von +Erfft, could not make him any definite promise, for he felt bound +to the helpless, if not hopeless, opera company now in his care. +Herr von Erfft inquired more closely into the grounds of his doubt +as to his ability to have his orchestra undertake the special engagement, +and then asked him whether he would accept his help. +“Gladly,” replied Daniel, “but such help as you can offer us will +hardly be of any avail. Our chief is a hardened sinner.”</p> + +<p>Herr von Erfft went with Daniel to the mayor; a half-hour +later an official dispatch was on its way to the impresario Dörmaul. +It was couched in language that was sufficient to inspire any citizen +with respect, referred to the desperate plight in which the company +then found itself, and demanded in a quite imperious tone +that something be done at once.</p> + +<p>Dörmaul was frightened; he sent the necessary money by return +wire. In another telegram to Wurzelmann he declared the company +dissolved; most of the contracts had expired, and those members +of the company who put in claims were satisfied in one way +or another.</p> + +<p>Daniel was free. Wurzelmann said to him on taking leave: +“Nothafft, you will never amount to anything. I have been disappointed +in you. You have far too much conscience. You +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>cannot make children out of morality, much less music. The +swamp is quaggy, the summit rocky. Commit some act of genuine +swinishness, so that you may put a little ginger into your life.”</p> + +<p>Daniel laid his hand on his shoulder, looked at him with his +cold eyes, and said: “Judas.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Judas so far as I am concerned,” said Wurzelmann. +“I was not born to be nailed to the cross; I am much more for the +feasts with the Pharisees.”</p> + +<p>He had got a position as critic on the <i>Phœnix</i>, one of the +best known musical magazines.</p> + +<p>Daniel found the members of the orchestra only too glad to +take the excursion over to Herr von Erfft’s. They were put up +in a hotel; Daniel himself lived in the castle. The rehearsals +were held with zeal and seriousness. Though the name of the +Chancellor was still darkened by the clouds of political life, by the +enmity of his opponents, by pettiness and misunderstanding, all +these young people felt the power of the great Immortal, and +were delighted with the idea of meaning something to him, even +in the guise of an imaginary world and for only a fleeting hour +or two. Agatha von Erfft, the wife of Herr von Erfft, was +indefatigable in preparing the costumes, surmounting technical +difficulties, and entertaining her guests. The twenty-four-year-old +Sylvia had inherited neither the strength of her mother nor the +amiability of her father: she was delicate and reserved. Nevertheless, +she managed to put a great deal of winsomeness and roguishness +into the rôle of the cherub. Even her parents were surprised +at the unexpected wealth of her natural ability. Moreover, her +voice was velvety and well trained. Accustomed as he had been +for years to the mediocre accomplishments of sore throats, Daniel +nodded approval when she sang.</p> + +<p>The other members of the improvised company he handled +with no greater indulgence than he had shown the singers of the +Dörmaul troupe. They had to put up with his gruffness and +snappishness, and to do it without a murmur. Herr von Erfft +attended the rehearsals regularly, observing Daniel at all times +with quiet admiration. If Daniel spoke to any one with such seeming +harshness that the case was taken up with Herr von Erfft, the +latter said: “Let the man have his way; he knows his business; +there are not many like him.”</p> + +<p>Sylvia was the only one he treated with consideration. As soon +as Herr von Erfft mentioned her name, Daniel listened; and as +soon as he had seen her, he knew that he had seen her before. It +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>was the time he was on his journey; he was standing out at the +entrance to the park; some one called to her. It seemed strange +to him that he should remember this. Now he was with her, and +yet he was just as much of a stranger to her as ever.</p> + +<p>But the thing that drew him to the beautiful girl had nothing +to do with this chance incident; nor was there the slightest trace +of sensuousness in his feelings. It was all a sort of dream-like sympathy, +similar to the quest of memory in search of a forgotten +happiness. It was a vaguer and more plaguing sensation than the +one that bound him so inviolably to Gertrude; it was more sorrow +than joy, more unrest than consciousness.</p> + +<p>This forgotten happiness slumbered deep down in his soul; it +had been washed away by the waves of life. It was not Sylvia herself; +it was perhaps a movement of her hand: where had he known +this same movement before? It was the way she tossed her head +back; it was her proud look, the blue of her eyes—but where had +he seen all this before?</p> + +<p>Forgotten, forgotten....</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>Just as everything was in full swing, just as they had decorated +the buildings and arranged the Herrenhaus, the news came of the +death of King Ludwig of Bavaria. The newspapers bore a broad +black margin, and were crowded with details concerning the tragedy +at the Starnbergersee. The entire country, including the family +of Herr von Erfft, mourned the loss of the art-loving monarch +genuinely and for a long while.</p> + +<p>Of an operatic performance there could be no thought. The +Chancellor cancelled his engagement, and the young men who +had assembled for the rehearsals went quietly home. Herr von +Erfft gave Daniel a considerable purse with which he might recompense +his musicians for their trouble, and, not wishing to treat +Daniel himself as though he were an ordinary mechanic, he invited +him to spend a few more days on his estate.</p> + +<p>Daniel did not decline; he had not in truth given one minute’s +thought to where he would go when he left.</p> + +<p>After he distributed the present from Herr von Erfft among +the musicians and discharged them, he took a long walk in the +woods. He ate a frugal meal in a village restaurant, and then +sauntered around until evening. When he returned, he found his +hosts sitting at the table. He neglected to beg their pardon; Frau +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>Agatha looked at her husband and smiled, and told the maids to +bring in something for the Herr Kapellmeister. Sylvia had a +book in her hand and was reading.</p> + +<p>Daniel was a trifle ill at ease; he merely took a bite here and +there. When Frau von Erfft left the table, walked over to the +window, and looked out into the cloudy sky, Daniel got up, went +into the adjoining room, and sat down at the piano.</p> + +<p>He began to play Schubert’s “Song to Sylvia.” Having finished +the impetuous, heart-felt song, he struck up a variation, then a +second, a third, and a fourth. The first was melancholy, the second +triumphant, the third meditative, the fourth dreamy. Each +was a hymn to forgotten joy.</p> + +<p>Herr von Erfft and Agatha were standing in the open door. +Sylvia had sat down close beside him on a tabourette; there was a +pleasing, far-away look in her eyes, riveted though they were to +the floor.</p> + +<p>He suddenly stopped, as if to avoid both thanks and applause. +Sylvester von Erfft took a seat opposite him, and asked him in a +most kindly tone whether he had any definite plans for the immediate +future.</p> + +<p>“I am going back to Nuremberg and get married,” said Daniel. +“My fiancée has been waiting for me for a long time.”</p> + +<p>Herr von Erfft asked him whether he was not afraid of premature +marriage bonds. Daniel replied rather curtly that he +needed some one to stand between him and the world.</p> + +<p>“You need some one to act as a sort of buffer,” said Frau Agatha +sarcastically. Daniel looked at her angrily.</p> + +<p>“Buffer? No, but a guardian angel if such a creature can shield +me from rebuffs,” said Daniel, even more brusquely than he had +spoken the first time.</p> + +<p>“Why do you wish to settle down and live in Nuremberg, a city +of such one-sided commercial interests?” continued Herr von Erfft, +with an almost solicitous caution. “Would you not have a much +better opportunity as a composer in one of the great cities?”</p> + +<p>“It is impossible to separate the daughter from her father,” +replied Daniel with unusual candour. “It is impossible. Nor is +it possible to get the old man to tear himself away from his former +associations. He was born and reared there. And I do not wish +to live alone any longer. Everybody needs a companion; even +the miner digs with a better heart, when he knows that up on the +earth above his wife is preparing the soup. I must say, however, +that I am not so much taken up with the soup phase of married +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>life: it is the dear little soul that will belong to me that interests +me.”</p> + +<p>He turned around, and struck a minor chord.</p> + +<p>“And even if everything were different, your great cities would +not attract me,” he began again, wrinkling his face in a most bizarre +way. “What would I get out of them? Companions? I have +had enough of them. Music I can study at home. I can summon +the masters of all ages to my study. Fame and riches will find +their way to me, if they wish to. The dawn is missed only by +those who are too indolent to get up, and real music is heard +by all except the deaf. God attends to everything else; man has +nothing to do with it.”</p> + +<p>He struck another chord, this time in a major key.</p> + +<p>Herr von Erfft and his wife looked at him with evident joy and +sympathy. Sylvia whispered something to her mother, who then +said to Daniel: “I have a sister living in Nuremberg, Baroness +Clotilde von Auffenberg. From the time she was a mere child +she was an ardent lover of good music. If I give you a letter of +introduction to her, I am quite sure she will welcome you with +open arms. She is unfortunately not in the best of health, and a +heavy fate is just now hanging over her; but she has a warm heart, +and her affections are trustworthy.”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked down at the floor. He thought of Gertrude and +his future life with her, and murmured a few words of gratitude. +Frau von Erfft went at once to her desk, and wrote a detailed +letter to her sister. When she had finished it, she gave it to +Daniel with a good-natured smile.</p> + +<p>The next morning he left the castle with the feeling of regret +that one experiences on leaving the dwelling place of peace and +separating from noble friends.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>The streets of Nuremberg were hung with black banners. It was +raining. Daniel took a cheap room in The Bear.</p> + +<p>It had already grown dark when he started to Jordan’s. He +met Benno at the front door. He did not recognise the foppishly-dressed +young man, and was on the point of passing by without +speaking to him; but Benno stopped, and laughed out loud.</p> + +<p>“Whew, the Herr Kapellmeister!” he cried, and his pale face, +already showing the signs of dissipation, took on a scornful expression. +“Be careful, my friend, or Gertrude will swoon.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p><p>Daniel asked if they were all well. Benno replied that there +was no lack of good health, though some of the family were a +little short of change. Then he laughed again. He spoke of his +father, said the old gentleman was not getting along very well, +that he was having quite a little trouble to get anything to do, but +then what could be expected with a man of his age, and the competition +and the hard times! Daniel asked if Eleanore was at +home. No, she was not at home: she had gone on a visit with +Frau Rübsam over to Pommersfelden, and planned to stay there +for a few weeks. “Well, I’ll have to be hurrying along,” said +Benno, “my fraternity brothers are waiting for me.”</p> + +<p>“Good gracious! Do you have fraternity brothers too?”</p> + +<p>“Of course! They are the spice of my life! We have a holiday +to-day: The King’s funeral. Well, God bless you, Herr +Kapellmeister, I must be going.”</p> + +<p>Daniel went up and rang the bell; Gertrude came to the door. +It was dark; each could see only the outline of the other.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s you, Daniel!” she whispered, happy as happy could be. +She came up to him, and laid her face on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Daniel was surprised at the regularity of his pulse. Yesterday +the mere thought of this meeting took his breath. Now he held +Gertrude in his arms, and was amazed to find that he was perfectly +calm and composed.</p> + +<p>In the room he led her over to the lamp, and looked at her for a +long while, fixedly and seriously. She grew pale at the sight of +him: he was so strange and so terrible.</p> + +<p>Then he took her by the hand, led her over to the sofa, sat +down beside her, and told her of his plans. Her wishes and his +tallied exactly. He wanted to get married within four weeks. +Very well; she would get married.</p> + +<p>He found her the same unqualifiedly submissive girl. In her +eyes there was an expression of fatal docility; it terrified him. +There was no cowardly doubt in her soul; her cool hand lay in +his and did not twitch. With her hand her whole soul, her whole +life, lay in his hand. He wanted to raise some doubt in her +mind: he spoke in a down-hearted tone of his future prospects; he +said that there was very little hope of his ever winning recognition +from the world for his compositions.</p> + +<p>“What is the good of recognition?” she asked. “They can take +nothing from you, and what they give you is clear gain.”</p> + +<p>He became silent. The feeling of her worth to him swept +like a fiery meteor through the heaven of his existence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p><p>The statement that they were going to remain in Nuremberg +made her happy, particularly because of her father. She said +there was a small apartment for rent on Ægydius Place, three +rooms, a very quiet neighbourhood. They went over to the window; +Gertrude showed him the house. It was close to the church, +right where the Place makes a turn.</p> + +<p>Jordan came in, and welcomed Daniel with a long handshake. +His hair had become greyer, he walked with more of a stoop, and +his clothes showed traces of neglect.</p> + +<p>When he heard what Daniel and Gertrude were planning to +do, he shook his head: “It is a bad year, children. Why are you +in such a hurry? Both of you are still young.”</p> + +<p>“If we were older, we would have less courage,” replied Daniel.</p> + +<p>Jordan took a seat, and buried his face in his hands. In course +of time he looked up, and said that three years ago he had only +eight thousand marks in the bank; that hard times had forced +him to draw on this sum to keep the house going; and that to-day +there was hardly a third of it left. Two thousand marks was all +he could give Gertrude as a dowry; with that they would have to +be satisfied, and get along as well as they could.</p> + +<p>“We don’t need any more,” said Daniel; “as a matter of fact +I did not expect that much. Now I haven’t a care in the world; +I am ready for anything.”</p> + +<p>A bat flew in at the open window, and then quietly flew out +again. It had stopped raining. You could still hear the water +trickling and splashing down the leaders and in the pipes. There +was something heavy, portentous, in the air of this June evening.</p> + + +<h3>XIV</h3> + +<p>At first Daniel had received small bits of news from England +about Benda, but for a year and a half he had not heard a word. +When Eleanore returned from Pommersfelden in July, she told +him that she had received a letter from Benda in April, and that +she had sent him this letter when he was at Naumburg. Daniel, +however, had never received it, and the investigations which he +made proved fruitless.</p> + +<p>Benda’s mother was not in the city; she was living with relatives +in Worms, but had kept her apartment at Herr Carovius’s.</p> + +<p>Frau von Auffenberg was at Bad Ems, and did not plan to +return until September. Daniel looked up old friends, and +rebound the ties of former days. He also succeeded in getting a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>number of students to tutor, an occupation that netted him a little +spending money.</p> + +<p>He had to attend to a great deal of business for which he was +quite unfit. He had imagined that he could get married just as +he might go to a shop and buy something: he would not make any +noise, nor would it take much time. He had a hundred moods, +a hundred objections, a hundred grimaces. The apartment on +Ægydius Place was already rented. It embittered him to think +that in order to live with a person you loved, you had to have +tables, beds, chairs, cupboards, lamps, glasses, plates, garbage cans, +water pails, window cushions, and a thousand and one other foolish +objects.</p> + +<p>There was a great deal of talk in the city about the marriage. +The people said they did not know what Jordan could be thinking +of. They were convinced that he was in desperate financial straits +if he would marry his daughter to an impecunious musician.</p> + +<p>Daniel found everything hard: every day was his Day of Judgment. +A melody was gnawing at his heart, trying to take on a +pure and finished form. Freedom sounded in his ears with voices +from above; his quiet fiancée begged for comradeship. The task +to which he had dedicated himself demanded loneliness; then his +blood carried him along and away, and he became like wax, +but wild.</p> + +<p>He would rush to Jordan’s house, enter the living room, his hair +all dishevelled, sit down where the two sisters were working on +Gertrude’s trousseau, and never utter a syllable until Gertrude +would come up to him and lay her hand on his forehead. He +thrust her back, but she smiled gently. At times, though none too +frequently, he would take her by the arms and pull her down to +him. When he did this, Eleanore would smile with marked +demureness, as if it were not right for her to see two people in +love.</p> + +<p>There was a second-hand baby grand piano in Jordan’s living +room. Daniel played on it in the evening, and the sisters listened. +Gertrude was like a woman wrapt in peaceful slumber, her every +wish having been fulfilled, with kindly spirits watching over her. +Eleanore, however, was wide awake; she was awake and meditating.</p> + + +<h3>XV</h3> + +<p>The day of the wedding arrived. At half past nine in the +morning, Daniel appeared in Jordan’s house. He wore an afternoon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>suit and a high hat! He was vexed, and villanous to behold, +a picture of misery.</p> + +<p>Benno, the man of the world, was forced to leave the room. +No sooner was he outside than he laughed so heartily that he fell +into a clothes basket. He did not approve of this marriage; he +was ashamed to tell his friends about it.</p> + +<p>Gertrude wore a plain street dress and a little virgin bonnet, +then prescribed by fashion. She sat by the table, and gazed into +space with wide-opened eyes.</p> + +<p>Eleanore came into the room with a wreath of myrtle. “You +must put this on, Gertrude,” she said, “just to please us; just to +make us feel that you are a real bride. Otherwise you look too +sober, too much as though you two were going to the recorder’s +office on profane business.”</p> + +<p>“Where did you get that wreath?” asked Jordan.</p> + +<p>“I found it in an old chest; it is mother’s bridal wreath.”</p> + +<p>“Really? Mother’s bridal wreath?” murmured Jordan, as he +looked at the faded myrtle.</p> + +<p>“Put it on, Gertrude,” Eleanore again requested, but Gertrude +looked first at Daniel, and then laid it to one side.</p> + +<p>Eleanore went up to the mirror, and put it on her own head.</p> + +<p>“Don’t do that, child,” said Jordan with a melancholy smile. +“Superstitious people say that you will remain an old maid forever, +if you wear the wreath of another.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will remain an old maid, and gladly so,” said Eleanore.</p> + +<p>She turned away from the mirror, and looked at Daniel half +unconscious of what she was doing. The blond of her eyelashes +had turned almost grey, the red of her lips had been dotted with +little spots from her smiling, and her neck was like something +liquid and disembodied.</p> + +<p>Daniel saw all this. He looked at the Undine-like figure of +the girl. It seemed to him that he had not seen her since the day +of his return, that he had not noticed that she had become more +mature, more beautiful, and more lovely. All of a sudden he felt +as if he were going to swoon. It went through him like a flash: +Here, here was what he had forgotten; here was the countenance, +the eye, the figure, the movement that had stood before him, and +he, fool, unspeakable fool, had been struck by blindness.</p> + +<p>Gertrude had a fearful suspicion of the experience he was going +through. She arose, and looked at Daniel in horror. He hastened +up to her as if he were fleeing, and seized her hands. Eleanore, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>believing she had aroused Daniel’s displeasure by some word or +gesture, snatched the myrtle wreath from her hair.</p> + +<p>Jordan had paid no attention to these incidents. Bringing at +last his restless pacing back and forth to an end, he took out his +watch, looked at it, and said it was time they were going. Eleanore, +who had displayed a most curious disposition the whole morning, +asked them to wait a minute. Before they could find out why +she wished them to wait, the door bell rang, and she ran out.</p> + +<p>She returned with a radiant expression on her face; Marian +Nothafft followed her. Marian composed herself only with +extreme difficulty. Her eyes roamed about over the circle of +people before her, partly as if she were frightened, partly as if +she were looking for some one.</p> + +<p>Mother and son stood face to face in absolute silence. That +was the work of Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Marian said she was living with her sister Theresa; that she +had arrived the day before; and that she wished to return this +evening.</p> + +<p>“I am glad, Mother, that you could come,” said Daniel with a +stifled voice.</p> + +<p>Marian laid her hand on his head; she then went up to Gertrude, +and did the same.</p> + +<p>After the wedding, Jordan gave a luncheon for his children. +In the afternoon they all started off in two hired coaches. Daniel +had never seen his mother so cheerful; but it was useless to ask +her to prolong her visit. While this was being discussed, she and +Eleanore exchanged knowing glances.</p> + +<p>As evening drew on, Daniel and Gertrude betook themselves to +their home.</p> + + +<h3>XVI</h3> + +<p>It is night. The antiquated old square is deserted. The bell +in the church tower has struck eleven; the lights in the windows +die out, slowly, one by one.</p> + +<p>The figure of a woman is seen coming up the alley. She is +spying anxiously about, before her and behind her. Finally she +stops before the little house in which Daniel and Gertrude live. +Is it a living creature? Is it not rather an uncanny gnome? The +garments hang loose about the unshapely body; a crumpled straw +hat covers the mad-looking face; the shoulders are raised; the fists +are clenched; the eyes are glassy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p><p>Suddenly there is a scream. The woman hastens over toward +the church, falls on her knees, and sinks her teeth with frenzied +madness into the wooden pickets of the fence. After some time +she rises, stares up once more at the windows with distorted lips, +and then moves away with slow, dragging steps.</p> + +<p>It was Philippina Schimmelweis. She kept going about the +streets in this fashion until break of day.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span><a name="DANIEL_AND_GERTRUDE" id="DANIEL_AND_GERTRUDE"></a>DANIEL AND GERTRUDE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">The</span> Reichstag had voted to extend the period during which the +Socialist law would be in effect; the passing of a new army bill +was also to be expected. These two measures had provoked tumultuous +discord in many parts of the country.</p> + +<p>The Social Democrats were planning a parade through the main +streets of the city in October, but the police had already forbidden +their demonstration. The evening the edict was issued the regiments +stood at alert in the barracks; feeling ran high throughout +the entire city. In Wöhrd and Plobenhof there had been a number +of riots; in the narrow streets of the central zone thousands of +workmen had stormed the Rathaus.</p> + +<p>Every now and then there would come a long, shrill whistle +from the silent mass, followed at once by the heavy rolling of +drums at the guard house.</p> + +<p>Among those who came down from the direction of Koenig +Street was the workman Wachsmuth. In the vicinity of the +Schimmelweis shop he delivered an excited harangue against the +former member of the party; his words fell on fruitful soil. A +locksmith’s apprentice who had lost some money through the Prudentia +violently defamed the character of the bookseller.</p> + +<p>The mob gathered before the lighted shop window. Wachsmuth +stood by the door, and demanded that the traitor be suspended +from a lamp post before this day’s sun had set. A stone flew +through the air over their heads, and crashed through the window; +pieces of glass flew in all directions. Thereupon a dozen fellows +rushed into the shop, exclaiming, “Where is the dirty dog? Let +us get at the blood-sucker!” They wanted to teach him a lesson +he would never forget.</p> + +<p>Before Theresa could open her mouth, scraps of books and +newspapers were flying in every direction, and pamphlets were +being trampled under foot. A forest of arms were reaching out +for the shelves, and bundles of books were falling to the floor, +like stacks of cards piled up by a child and blown over by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>wind. Zwanziger had taken refuge at the top of the ladder; he +was howling. Theresa stood by the till looking like the ghost of +ages. Philippina came in through the back door, and eyed what +was going on without one visible trace of surprise or discomfort; +she merely smiled. Just then the policeman’s whistle blew; in +less time than it takes to draw one breath, the rebellious insurgents +were beating a hasty retreat.</p> + +<p>When Theresa regained consciousness, the shop was empty; and +the street in front of the shop was as deserted as it ordinarily is +at midnight. After some time, the chief of police came up; he +was followed by a crowd of curious people, who stood around and +gaped at the scene of devastation.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip, seeing what was coming, had left the shop betimes +and hidden in his house. He had even locked the front door and +was sunk down on a chair, his teeth clappering with vigour and +regularity.</p> + +<p>He returned at last to the shop, and with heart-rending dignity +faced the dispenser of justice, who by this time had put in his +appearance. He said: “And this is what I get from people for +whom I have sacrificed my money and my blood.”</p> + +<p>In giving his testimony as an eyewitness, Zwanziger displayed +boastful hardiness in his narration of details. Philippina looked +at him with venomous contempt from under the imbecile locks +that hung down over her forehead, and murmured: “You disgusting +coward!”</p> + +<p>When Jason Philip came back from the inn, he said: “To believe +that people can be ruled without the knout is a fatal delusion.” +With that he stepped into his embroidered slippers—“For tired +Father—Consolation.” The slippers had aged, and so had Jason +Philip. His beard was streaked with grey.</p> + +<p>Theresa took an invoice of the damage the mob had done: she +felt that Jason Philip was a ruined man.</p> + +<p>As he lay stretched out in bed, Jason Philip said: “The first +thing I want to do is to have a serious, heart-to-heart talk with +Baron Auffenberg. The Liberal Party is going to take direct +action against the impudence of the lower classes, or it is going +to lose a constituent.”</p> + +<p>“How many quarts of beer did you drink?” asked Theresa from +the depths of the pillows.</p> + +<p>“Two.”</p> + +<p>“You are a liar.”</p> + +<p>“Well, possibly I drank three,” replied Jason Philip with a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>yawn. “But to accuse a man of my standing of lying on such +small grounds is an act of perfidy such as only an uncultured +woman like yourself could be brought to commit.”</p> + +<p>Theresa blew out the candle.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Baron Siegmund von Auffenberg had returned from Munich, +where he had had an interview with the Minister.</p> + +<p>He had also seen a great many other people in the presence +of whom he was condescending, jovial, and witty. His amiability +was proverbial.</p> + +<p>Now he was sitting with a gloomy face by the chimney. Not +a one of those many people who had so recently been charmed by +his conversational gifts would have recognised him.</p> + +<p>The stillness and loneliness pained him. An irresistible force +drew him to his wife. He had not seen her for seven weeks, +though they had lived in the same house.</p> + +<p>He was drawn to her, because he wanted to know whether she +had heard anything from that person whose name he did not like +to mention, from his son, his enemy, his heir. Not that he wanted +to ask his wife any questions: he merely wished to read her face. +Since no one in the vicinity had dared say a word to him about +his son, he was forced to rely on suppositions and the subtle cunning +of his senses at ferreting out information on this kind of +subjects. He did not dare betray the curiosity with which he +waited for some one to inform him that his hated offspring had at +last come to mortal grief.</p> + +<p>Six years had elapsed, and still he could hear the insolent voice +in which the monstrous remarks were made that had torn him from +the twilight of his self-complacency; remarks that distressed him +more than any other grief he may have felt in the secrecy of his +bed chamber and which completely and forever robbed him of all +the joys of human existence.</p> + +<p>“<i>Dépêche-toi, mon bon garçon</i>,” screeched the parrot.</p> + +<p>The Baron arose, and went to his wife’s room. She was terrified +when she saw him enter. She was lying on a sofa, her head +propped up by cushions, a thick Indian blanket spread out over +her legs.</p> + +<p>She had a broad, bloated face, thick lips, and unusually big +black eyes, in which there was a sickly glare. She had been +regarded as a beauty in her young days, though none of this beauty +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>was left, unless it was the freshness of her complexion or the +dignified bearing of the born lady of the world.</p> + +<p>She sent her maid out of the room, and looked at her husband +in silence. She studied the friendly, Jesuitic wrinkles in his face, +by virtue of which he managed to conceal his real thoughts. Her +anxiety was increased.</p> + +<p>“You have not played the piano any to-day,” he began in a +sweet voice. “It makes the house seem as though something were +missing. I am told that you have acquired perfect technique, and +that you have engaged a new teacher. Emilia told me this.”</p> + +<p>Emilia was their daughter. She was married to Count Urlich, +captain of cavalry.</p> + +<p>In the Baroness’s eyes there was an expression such as is found +in the eyes of some leashed beast when the butcher approaches, axe +in hand. She was tortured by the smoothness of the man from +whom she had never once in the last quarter of a century received +anything but brutality and scorn, and from whom she had suffered +the grossest of humiliations—when no one was listening.</p> + +<p>“What do you want, Siegmund?” she asked, with painful effort.</p> + +<p>The Baron stepped close up to her, bit his lips, and looked at +her for ten or twelve seconds with a fearful expression on his face.</p> + +<p>She then seized him by the left arm: “What is the matter with +Eberhard?” she cried; “tell me, tell me everything! There is +something wrong.”</p> + +<p>The Baron, with a gesture of stinging aversion, thrust her hands +from him, and turned to go. There was unfathomable coldness +in his conduct.</p> + +<p>Beside herself with grief, the Baroness made up her mind to +tell him, for the first time in her life, of the thousand wrongs +that burned within her heart. And she did: “Oh, you monster! +Why did Fate bring you into my life? Where is there another +woman in the world whose lot has been like mine? Where is the +woman who has lived without joy or love or esteem or freedom or +peace, a burden to others and to herself? Show me another +woman who goes about in silk and satin longing for death. Name +me another woman who people think is happy, because the devil, +who tortures her without ceasing, deceives them all. Where is +there another woman who has been so shamelessly robbed of her +children? For is not my daughter the captive and concubine of an +insane tuft-hunter? Has not my son been taken from me through +the baseness that has been practised against his sister, and the +lamentable spectacle afforded him by my own powerlessness? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>Where, I ask high Heaven, is there another woman so cursed as I +have been?”</p> + +<p>She threw herself down on her bosom, and burrowed her face +into the cushion.</p> + +<p>The Baron was surprised at the feverish eloquence of his wife; +he had accustomed himself to her mute resignation, as he might +have accustomed himself to the regular, monotonous ticking of a +hall clock. He was anxious to see what she would do next, how +she would develop her excitement; she was a novel phenomenon +in his eyes: therefore he remained standing in the door.</p> + +<p>But as he stood there in chilly expectancy, his haggard face +casting off expressions of scorn and surprise, he suddenly sensed a +feeling of weary disgust at himself. It was the disgust of a man +whose wishes had always been fulfilled, whose lusts had been satisfied; +of a man who has never known other men except as greedy +and practical supplicants; of a man who has always been the lord of +his friends, the tyrant of his servants, and the centre of all social +gatherings; of a man before whom all others yielded, to whom all +others bowed; of a man who had never renounced anything but +the feeling of renunciation.</p> + +<p>“I am not unaware,” he began slowly, just as if he were making +a campaign speech to his electors, “I am not unaware that our +marriage has not been the source of wholesome blessings. To be +convinced of this, your declamation was unnecessary. We married +because the circumstances were favourable. We had cause to regret +the decision. Is it worth while to investigate the cause now? I +am quite devoid of sentimental needs. This is true of me to such +an extent that any display of sympathy or exuberance or lack of +harshness in other people fills me with mortal antipathy. Unfortunately, +my political career obliged me to assume a favourable +attitude toward this general tendency of the masses. I played the +hypocrite with complete consciousness of what I was doing, and +made so much the greater effort to conceal all feeling in my private +life.”</p> + +<p>“It is easy to conceal something you do not have,” replied the +Baroness in a tone of intense bitterness.</p> + +<p>“Possibly; but it is a poor display of tact for the rich man to +irritate the poor man by flaunting his lavish, spendthrift habits in +his face; and this is precisely what you have done. The emphasis +you laid on a certain possession of yours, the value of which we will +not dispute, provoked my contempt. It gave you pleasure to cry +when you saw a cat eating a sparrow. A banal newspaper novel +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>could rob you completely of your spiritual equanimity. You were +always thrilled, always in ecstasy, it made not the slightest difference +whether the cause of your ecstasy was the first spring violet +or a thunder storm, a burnt roast, a sore throat, or a poem. You +were always raving, and I became tired of your raving. You did +not seem to notice that my distrust toward the expression of these +so-called feelings was transformed into coldness, impatience, and +hatred. And then came the music. What was at first a diversion +for you, of which one might approve or disapprove, became in time +the indemnity for an active life and all the defects of your character. +You gave yourself up to music somewhat as a prostitute +gives herself up to her first loyal lover”—the Baroness twitched +as if some one had struck her across the back with a horsewhip—“yes, +like a prostitute,” he repeated, turning paler and paler, his +eyes glistening. “Then it was that your whole character came to +light; one saw how spoiled you were, how helpless, how undisciplined. +You clung like a worm to uncertain and undetermined +conditions. If I have become a devil in your eyes, it is your music +that has made me so. Now you know it.”</p> + +<p>“So that is it,” whispered the Baroness with faltering breath. +“Did you leave me anything but my music? Have you not raged +like a tiger? But it is not true,” she exclaimed, “you are not so +vicious, otherwise I myself would be a lie in the presence of the +Eternal Judge, and that I had borne children by you would be +contrary to nature. Leave me, go away, so that I may believe that +it is not true!”</p> + +<p>The Baron did not move.</p> + +<p>In indescribable excitement, and as quickly as her obese body +would permit, the Baroness leaped to her feet: “I know you better,” +she said with trembling lips, “I have been able to foreshadow +what is driving you about; I have seen what makes you so restless. +You are not the man you pretend to be; you are not the +cold, heartless creature you seem. In your breast there is a spot +where you are vulnerable, and there you have been struck. You +are bleeding, man! If we all, I and your daughter and your +brothers and your friends and your cowardly creatures, are as +indifferent and despicable to you as so many flies, there is one who +has been able to wound you; this fact is gnawing at your heart. +And do you know why he was in a position to wound you? Because +you loved him. Look me in the eye, and tell me that I lie. You +loved him—your son—you idolised him. The fact that he has +repudiated your love, that he found it of no value to him, the love +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>that blossomed on the ruined lives of his mother and sister, this is +the cause of your sorrow. It is written across your brow. And +that you are suffering, and suffering for this reason, constitutes +my revenge.”</p> + +<p>The Baron did not say a word; his lower jaw wagged from left +to right as though he were chewing something; his face seemed +to have dried up; he looked as though he had suddenly become +older by years. The Baroness, driven from her reserve, stood +before him like an enraged sibyl. He turned in silence, and left +the room.</p> + +<p>“My suffering is her revenge,” he murmured on leaving the +room. Once alone, he stood for a while perfectly absent-minded. +“Am I really suffering?” he said to himself.</p> + +<p>He turned off a gas jet that was burning above the book case. +“Yes, I am suffering,” he confessed reluctantly; “I am suffering.” +He walked along the wall with dragging feet, and entered a room +in which a light was burning. He felt the same satiety and disgust +at himself that he had experienced a few moments earlier. +This time it was caused by the sight of the hand-carved furniture, +the painted porcelain, the precious tapestries, and the oil paintings +in their gold frames.</p> + +<p>He longed for simpler things; he longed for barren walls, a +cot of straw, parsimony, discipline. It was not the first time that +his exhausted organism had sought consolation in the thought of a +monastic life. This Protestant, this descendent of a long line of +Protestants, had long been tired of Protestantism. He regarded +the Roman Church as the more wholesome and merciful.</p> + +<p>But the transformation of his religious views was his own carefully +guarded secret. And secret it had to remain until he, the +undisciplined son of his mother, could atone for his past misdeeds. +He decided to wait until this atonement had been effected. Just +as a hypnotist gains control of his medium by inner composure, +so he thought he could hasten the coming of this event by conceding +it absolute supremacy over his mind.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>When Eberhard von Auffenberg left the paternal home to strike +out for himself, he was as helpless as a child that has lost the +hand of its adult companion in a crowd.</p> + +<p>He put the question to himself: What am I going to do? He +had never worked. He had studied at various universities as so +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>many other young men have studied, that is, he had managed to +pass a few examinations by the skin of his teeth.</p> + +<p>He had had so little to do in life, and was so utterly devoid of +ambition, that he looked upon a really ambitious individual as +being insane. Anything that was at all practical was filled with +insurmountable obstacles. His freedom, in other words, placed +him in a distressing state of mind and body.</p> + +<p>It would not have been difficult for him to find people who +would have been willing to advance him money on his name. But +he did not wish to incur debts of which his father might hear. +If he did, his solemn solution of an unbearable relation would +have amounted to nothing.</p> + +<p>He could, of course, count on his share of the estate; and he +did count on it, notwithstanding the fact that to do so was to +speculate on the death of his own father. He stood in urgent +need of a confidential friend; and this friend he thought he had +found in Herr Carovius.</p> + +<p>“Ah, two people such as you and I will not insist upon unnecessary +formalities,” said Herr Carovius. “All that I need is your +face, and your signature to a piece of paper. We will deduct ten +per cent at the very outset, so that my expenses may be covered, +for money is dear at present. I will give you real estate bonds; +they are selling to-day at eighty-five, unfortunately. The Exchange +is a trifle spotty, but a little loss like that won’t mean anything +to you.”</p> + +<p>For the ten thousand marks that he owed, Eberhard received +seven thousand, six hundred and fifty, cash. In less than a year +he was again in need of money, and asked Herr Carovius for +twenty thousand. Herr Carovius said he did not have that much +ready money, and that he would have to approach a lender.</p> + +<p>Eberhard replied sulkily that he could do about that as he saw +fit, but he must not mention his name to a third party. A few +days later Herr Carovius told a tale, of hair-splitting negotiations: +there was a middleman who demanded immodest guarantees, including +certified notes. He swore that he knew nothing about that +kind of business, and that he had undertaken to supply the needed +loan only because of his excessive affection for his young friend.</p> + +<p>Eberhard was unmoved. The eel-like mobility of the man with +the squeaking voice did not please him; not at all; as a matter of +fact he began to dread him; and this dread increased in intensity +and fearfulness in proportion to the degree in which he felt he was +becoming more and more entangled in his net.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p><p>The twenty thousand marks were procured at an interest of +thirty-five per cent. At first Eberhard refused to sign the note. +He would not touch it until Herr Carovius had assured him that +it was not to be converted into currency, that it could be redeemed +with new loans at any time, and that it would lie in his strong-box +as peacefully as the bones of the Auffenberg ancestors rested in +their vaults. Eberhard, tired of this flood of words, yielded.</p> + +<p>Every time he signed his name he had a feeling that the danger +into which he was walking was becoming greater. But he was too +lazy to defend himself; he was too aristocratic to interest himself +in petty explanations; and he was simply not capable of living on +a small income.</p> + +<p>The endorsed notes were presented as a matter of warning; +new loans settled them; new loans made new notes necessary; +these were extended; the extensions were costly; an uncanny individual +shielded in anonymity was taken into confidence. He +bought up mortgages, paid for them in diamonds instead of money, +and sold depreciated stocks. The debts having reached a certain +height, Herr Carovius demanded that Eberhard have his life +insured. Eberhard had to do it; the premium was very high. In +the course of three years Eberhard had lost all perspective; he could +no longer survey his obligations. The money he received he spent +in the usual fashion, never bothered himself about the terms on +which he had secured it, and had no idea where all this was leading +to and where it was going to end. He turned in disgust from +Herr Carovius’s clumsy approaches, malicious gibes, and occasional +threats.</p> + +<p>What an insipid smile he had! How fatuous, and then again +how profound, his conversation could be! He took upon himself +the impudent liberty of running in and out at Eberhard’s whenever +he felt like it. He bored him with his discussion of philosophic +systems, or with miserable gossip about his neighbours. He watched +him day and night.</p> + +<p>He followed him on the street. He would come up to him +and cry out, “Herr Baron, Herr Baron!” and wave his hat. His +solicitude for Eberhard’s health resembled that of a gaoler. One +evening Eberhard went to bed with a fever. Herr Carovius ran +to the physician, and then spent the whole night by the bedside +of the patient, despite his entreaties to be left alone. “Would it +not be well for me to write to your mother?” he asked, with much +show of affection on the next morning when he noticed that the +fever had not fallen. Eberhard sprang from his bed with an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>exclamation of rage, and Herr Carovius left immediately and +unceremoniously.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius loved to complain. He ran around the table, +exclaiming that he was ruined. He brought out his cheque book, +added up the figures, and cried: “Two more years of this business, +dear Baron, and I will be ready for the poor house.” He demanded +security and still more securities; he asked for renewed +promises. He submitted an account of the total sum, and demanded +an endorsement. But it was impossible for any one to make head +or tail out of this welter of interest, commissions, indemnities, +and usury. Herr Carovius himself no longer knew precisely how +matters stood; for a consortium of subsequent indorsers had been +formed behind his back, and they were exploiting his zeal on +behalf of the young Baron for all it was worth.</p> + +<p>“What is this I hear about you and the women?” asked Herr +Carovius one day. “What about a little adventure?” He had +noticed that the Baron had a secret; and it enraged him to think +that he could not get at the bottom of this amorous mystery.</p> + +<p>He made this discovery one day as Eberhard was packing his +trunk. “Where are you going, my dear friend?” he crowed in +exclamatory dismay. Eberhard replied that he was going to Switzerland. +“To Switzerland? What are you going to do there? I +am not going to let you go,” said Herr Carovius. Eberhard gave +him one cold stare. Herr Carovius tried beseeching, begging, +pleading. It was in vain; Eberhard left for Switzerland. He +wanted to be alone; he became tired of being alone, and returned; +he went off again; he came back again, and had the conversation +with Eleanore that robbed him of his last hope. Then he went +to Munich, and took up with the spiritists.</p> + +<p>Spiritual and mental ennui left him without a vestige of the +power of resistance. An inborn tendency to scepticism did not +prevent him from yielding to an influence which originally was +farther removed from the inclinations of his soul than the vulgar +bustle of everyday life. Benumbed as his critical judgment now +was, he went prospecting for the fountain of life in a zone where +dreams flourish and superficial enchantment predominates.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius hired a spy who never allowed Eberhard to get +out of his sight. He reported regularly to his employer on the +movements of the unique scion of the Auffenberg line. If Eberhard +needed money, he was forced to go to Carovius, who would +stand on the platform for an hour waiting for the Baron’s train +to come in; and once Eberhard had got out of his carriage, Herr +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>Carovius excited the laughter of the railroad officials by his +affectionate care for his protégé. Delighted to see him again, he +would talk the sheerest nonsense, and trip around about his young +friend in groundless glee.</p> + +<p>It seemed after all this that Herr Carovius really loved the +Baron; and he did.</p> + +<p>He loved him as a gambler loves his cards, or as the fire loves +the coals. He idealised him; he dreamt about him; he liked to +breathe the air that Eberhard breathed; he saw a chosen being in +him; he imputed all manner of heroic deeds to him, and was +immeasurably pleased at his aristocratic offishness.</p> + +<p>He loved him with hatred, with the joy of annihilation. This +hate-love became in time the centre of his thoughts and feelings. +In it was expressed everything that separated him from other men +and at the same time drew him to them. It controlled him unconditionally, +until a second, equally fearful and ridiculous passion +became affiliated with it.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Daniel had hesitated for a long while about making use of the +letter of introduction from Frau von Erfft. Gertrude then took +to begging him to go to the Baroness. “If I go merely to please +you, my action will avenge itself on you,” he said.</p> + +<p>“If I understood why you hesitate, I would not ask you,” she +replied in a tone of evident discomfort.</p> + +<p>“I found so much there in Erfft,” said he, “so much human +kindness that was new to me; I dislike the idea of seeing some +ulterior motive back of it, or of putting one there myself. Do +you understand now?” She nodded.</p> + +<p>“But must is stronger than may,” he concluded, and went.</p> + +<p>The Baroness became quite interested in his case. The position +of second Kapellmeister at the City Theatre was vacant, and she +tried to have Daniel appointed to it. She was promised that it +would be given to him; but the usual intrigues were spun behind +her back; and when she urged that the matter be settled immediately +and in favour of her candidate, she was fed on dissembling +consolation. She was quite surprised to be brought face to face +with hostile opposition, which seemed to spring from every side +as if by agreement against the young musician. Not a single one +of his enemies, however, allowed themselves to be seen, and no +one heard from by correspondence. It was the first time that she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>had come in conflict with the world in a business way; there was +something touching in her indignation at the display of cowardly +fraud.</p> + +<p>Finally, after a long, and for her humiliating, interview with +that chief of cosmopolitan brokers, Alexander Dörmaul, Daniel’s +engagement for the coming spring was agreed upon.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the Baroness took lessons from Daniel. She +expressed a desire to familiarise herself with the standard piano +compositions, and to be given a really practical introduction to their +meaning and the right method of interpreting them.</p> + +<p>It was long before she became accustomed to his cold and +morose sternness. She had the feeling that he was pulling her out +of a nice warm bath into a cold, cutting draught. She longed +to return to her twilights, her ecstatic moods, her melancholy +reveries.</p> + +<p>Once he explained to her in a thoroughly matter-of-fact way the +movement of a fugue. She dared to burst out with an exclamation +of joy. He shut the piano with a bang, and said: “Adieu, +Baroness.” He did not return until she had written him a letter +asking him to do so.</p> + +<p>“Ah, it is lost effort, a waste of time,” he thought, though he +did not fail to appreciate the Baroness’s human dignity. The +eight hours a month were a complete torture to him. And yet he +found that twenty marks an hour was too much; he said so. The +suspicion that she was giving him alms made him exceedingly disagreeable.</p> + +<p>A servant became familiar with him. Daniel took him by the +collar and shook him until he was blue in the face. He was as +wiry as a jaguar, and much to be feared when angry. The +Baroness had to discharge the servant.</p> + +<p>Once the Baroness showed him an antique of glass work made +of mountain crystal and beautifully painted. As he was looking +at it in intense admiration, he let it fall; it broke into many pieces. +He was as humiliated as a whipped school boy; the old Baroness +had to use her choicest powers of persuasion to calm him. He +then played the whole of Schumann’s “Carneval” for her, a piece +of music of which she was passionately fond.</p> + +<p>Every forenoon you could see him hastening across the bridge. +He always walked rapidly; his coat tails flew. He always had +the corners of his mouth drawn up and his lower lip clenched +between his teeth. He was always looking at the ground; in the +densest crowds he seemed to be alone. He bent the rim of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>hat down so that it covered his forehead. His dangling arms +resembled the stumpy wings of a penguin.</p> + +<p>At times he would stop, stand all alone, and listen, so to speak, +into space without seeing. When he did this, street boys would +gather about him and grin. Once upon a time a little boy said to +his mother: “Tell me, mother, who is that old, old manikin over +there?”</p> + +<p>This is the picture we must form of him at this time of his life, +just before his years of real storm and stress: he is in a hurry; +he seems so aloof, sullen, distant, and dry; he is whipped about the +narrow circle of his everyday life by fancy and ambition; he is +so young and yet so old. This is the light in which we must +see him.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>The apartment of Daniel and Gertrude had three rooms. Two +opened on the street, and one, the bed room, faced a dark, gloomy +court.</p> + +<p>With very limited means, but with diligence and pleasure, +Gertrude had done all in her power to make the apartment as +comfortable as possible. Though the ceilings were low and the +walls almost always damp, the rooms seemed after all quite home-like +and attractive.</p> + +<p>In Daniel’s study the piano was the chief object of furniture; it +dominated the space. Fuchsias in the window gave a pleasing +frame to the general picture of penury. His mother had given +him the oil painting of his father. From its place above the +sofa the stern countenance of Gottfried Nothafft looked down +upon the son. It seemed at times that the face of the father +turned toward the mask of Zingarella as if to ask who and what it +was. The mask hung on the other side of the room from the oil +painting; its unbroken smile was lost in the shadows.</p> + +<p>Gertrude had to do all the household work; they could not +afford a servant. In the years of Daniel’s absence, however, she +had learned to copy notes. Herr Seelenfromm, assistant to the +apothecary Pflaum, had taught her. He was a cousin of Frau +Rübsam, and she had become acquainted with him through Eleanore. +In his leisure hours he composed waltzes and marches, and dedicated +them to the princes and princesses of the royal family. He +also dedicated one to Gertrude. It was entitled “Feenzauber,” +and was a gavotte.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p><p>When Daniel learned of her accomplishment, he was so astonished +that he threw his hands above his head. The rare being +looked up at him intoxicated with joy. “I will help you,” she +said, and copied his notes for him.</p> + +<p>When they walked along the streets she would close her eyes at +times. A melody floated by her which she had never before been +able to understand. As she bought her vegetables and tried to drive +a bargain with the old market woman, her soul was full of song.</p> + +<p>Certain tones and combinations of tones took on definite shapes +in her mind. The bass B of the fourth octave appeared to her +as a heavily veiled woman; the middle E resembled a young man +who was stretching his arms. In chords, harmonies, and harmonic +transformations these figures were set in motion, the motion +depending on the character of the composition: a procession of +mourning figures between clouds and stars; wild animals spurred +on by the huntsmen who were riding them; maidens throwing +flowers from the windows of a palace; men and women plunging +into an abyss in one mass of despairing humanity; weeping men +and laughing women, wrestlers and ball players, dancing couples +and grape pickers. The pause appealed to her as a man who climbs +naked from a deep subterranean shaft, carrying a burning torch in +his hand; the trill seemed like a bird that anxiously flutters about +its nest.</p> + +<p>All of Daniel’s compositions came close to her heart; all his +pictures were highly coloured; his figures seemed to be full of +blood. If they remained dead and distant, her sympathy vanished; +her face became tired and empty. Without having spoken a word +with each other, Daniel would know that he was on the wrong +track. But all this bound him to the young woman with hoops of +steel; he came to regard her as the creature given him of God to +act as his living conscience and infallible if mute judge.</p> + +<p>He hated her when her feelings remained unmoved. If he at +last came to see, after much introspection, that she was right, then +he would have liked to fall down and worship the unknown power +that was so inexorable in pointing him the way.</p> + +<p>Spindler had a beautiful harp which he had bequeathed to +Daniel in his will. It had remained in Ansbach in the possession +of the old lady who kept house for him. Daniel had forgotten all +about the harp. After his marriage he had it sent to him.</p> + +<p>He kept it in the living room; Gertrude was fond of looking +at it. It enticed her. One day she sat down and tried to draw +tones from its strings. She touched the strings very gently, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>was charmed with the melody that came from them. Gradually +she learned the secret; she discovered the law. An innate talent +made the instrument submissive to her; she was able to express on +it all the longings and emotions she had experienced in her dark +and lonely hours.</p> + +<p>She generally played very softly; she never tried intricate +melodies, for the harp was adapted to the expression of simple, +dream-like harmonies. The tones were wafted out into the hall +and up the stairs; they greeted Daniel as he entered the old house.</p> + +<p>When he came into the room, Gertrude was sitting in a corner +by the stove, the harp between her knees. She smiled mysteriously +to herself; her hands, like strange beings loosed from her body, +sought chords and melodies that were his, and which she was trying +to translate to her own world of dreams.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Her command of language was more defective now than ever. +She was seized with painful astonishment when she noticed that +in matters of daily intercourse Daniel’s mind was not able to +penetrate the veil behind which she lived.</p> + +<p>He said to himself: she is too heavy. He was dumbfounded at +her conduct, and displeased with it.</p> + +<p>“The gloomy house oppresses you,” he said in a tone of ill +humour, when she smiled in her helpless way.</p> + +<p>“Let us run a race,” he said to her one day as they were taking +a walk through the country. An old tree in the distance that had +been struck by lightning was to be their objective.</p> + +<p>They ran as fast as their feet could carry them. At a distance +of about ten metres from the tree, Gertrude collapsed. He carried +her over to the meadow.</p> + +<p>“How heavy you are,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Too heavy for you?” she asked with wide-opened eyes. He +shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>Then she slipped out of his embrace, sprang to her feet, and +ran with remarkable swiftness a distance that was twice as long +as the one he had staked off; she did not fall; she did not want +to fall; she dared not.</p> + +<p>Breathing heavily and pale as a corpse, she waited until he came +up. But he had no tenderness for her now; he merely scolded. +Arm in arm they walked on. Gertrude felt for his hand; he +gave it to her, and she pressed it to her bosom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p><p>Daniel was terrified as he looked into her face, and saw her +thoughts written there as if in letters of fire: We belong to each +other for time and eternity.</p> + +<p>That was her confession of faith.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>She lay wide awake until late at night. She heard him go into +the kitchen and get a drink of water and then return to his room. +He had forbidden her to come to the door and ask whether he was +not going to bed soon: she was not to do this, it made no difference +how late it was.</p> + +<p>Then he lay beside her, his head on his arm, and looked at her +with eyes that had lost their earthly, temporal glow. Man, where +are your eyes anyway, she would have liked to exclaim. And yet +she knew where they were; she knew, too, that it is dangerous to +disturb a somnambulist by calling to him.</p> + +<p>One night he had found it impossible to do his work. He sat +down on the edge of the bed and stared into the light of the +lamp for an hour or so, hating himself. Gertrude saw how he +raged at himself; how he really fed, nourished his lack of confidence +in himself. But she could not say anything.</p> + +<p>A publisher had returned one of his manuscripts with a courteous +but depressing conventional rejection slip. Daniel spoke +disparagingly of his talents; he had lost hope in his future; he +was bitter at the world; he felt that he was condemned to a life +of unceasing obscurity.</p> + +<p>The only thing she could do was look at him; merely look +at him.</p> + +<p>He became tired of having her look at him; a fresh, vigorous +remark would have served his purpose much better, he thought.</p> + +<p>She measured her work and his not in terms of reward; she did +not seek for connection of any kind between privation and hope; +nor did she measure Daniel’s love in terms of tender expressions +and embraces. She waited for him with much patience. In time +her patience irritated him. “A little bit more activity and insistence +would not hurt you,” he said one day, and thrust her timid, +beseeching hands from him.</p> + +<p>He saw himself cared for: He had a home, a person who prepared +his meals, washed his clothes, and faithfully attended to his +other household needs. He should have been grateful. He was, +too, but he could not show it. He was grateful when he was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>alone, but in Gertrude’s presence his gratitude turned to defiance. +If he was away from home, he thought with pleasure of his +return; he pictured Gertrude’s joy at seeing him again. But when +he was with her, he indulged in silent criticism, and wanted to have +everything about her different.</p> + +<p>The judge’s wife on the first floor complained that Gertrude +did not speak to her. “Be kind to your neighbours,” he remarked +with the air of a professional scold. The next Sunday they took +a walk, on which they met the judge’s wife. Gertrude spoke to +her: “Well, you don’t need to fall on her neck,” he mumbled. +She thought for a long while of how she might speak to people +without offending them and without annoying Daniel. She was +embarrassed; she was afraid of Daniel’s criticism.</p> + +<p>On such days she would put too much salt in the soup, everything +went wrong, and in her diligent attempt to be punctual she +lost much time. She was fearfully worried when he got up from +the table and went to his room without saying a word. She +would sit perfectly still and listen; she was frightened when he +went to the piano to try a motif. When he again entered her +room, she looked into his face with the tenseness of a soul in utter +anguish. Then it suddenly came about that he would sit down by +her side and caress her. He told her all about his life, his home, +his father, his mother. If she could only have heard each of his +words twice! If she could only have drunk in the expression in +his eyes! They were filled with peace; his nervous hands lay in +quiet on his knees when he spoke to her in this way on these subjects. +His twitching, angular face, weather-beaten by the storms +of life, took on an expression of sorrow that was most becoming +to it.</p> + +<p>When she had a headache or was tired, he expressed his anxiety +for her in touching tones. He would go about the house on +tiptoes, and close the doors with infinite care. If a dog barked +on the street, he rushed to the window and looked out, enraged at +the beast. When she retired, he would help her undress, and +bring her whatever she needed.</p> + +<p>It was also strange that he disliked the idea of leaving her alone. +There was something child-like in his restlessness when he was at +home and she was out. He pictured her surrounded by grievous +dangers; he would have liked to lock her up and hold her a captive, +so as to be sure that she was quite safe. This made her all +the weaker and more dependent upon him, while he was like a +man who presses what he has to his heart, plagued with the thought +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>that by some mischance it might escape, and yet clings to it also +lest he be disturbed by the thought of another more precious possession +he loved long since and lost a while.</p> + +<p>Once he came to Gertrude while she was playing the harp, threw +his arms about her, looked into her face with a wild, gloomy expression, +and stammered: “I love you, I love you, I do.” It was the +first time he had spoken these eternal words. She grew pale, first +from joy and then from fear; for there was more of hatred than +of love in his voice.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>He felt that association with congenial men would help him over +many a dark hour. But when he set out to look for these men, +the city became a desert and a waste place.</p> + +<p>Herr Seelenfromm came to his house now and then. Daniel +could not endure the timid man who admired him so profoundly, +and who, in the bottom of his heart, had an equal amount of respect +for Gertrude. The young architect who had been employed at +the St. Sebaldus Church while it was being renovated, and who +loved music, had won Daniel’s esteem. But he had a repulsive +habit of smacking his tongue when he talked. Daniel and he discussed +the habit, and parted the worst of enemies. His association +with a certain Frenchman by the name of Rivière was of longer +duration. Rivière was spending some time in the city, looking up +material for a life of Caspar Hauser. He had made his acquaintance +at the Baroness von Auffenberg’s, and taken a liking to him +because he reminded him of Friedrich Benda.</p> + +<p>M. Rivière loved to hear Daniel improvise on the piano. He +knew so little German that he merely smiled at Daniel’s caustic +remarks; and if he became violently enraged, M. Rivière merely +stared at his mouth. He had a wart on his cheek, and wore a +straw hat summer and winter. He cooked his own meals, for it +was an obsession of his that people wanted to poison him because +he was writing a life of Caspar Hauser.</p> + +<p>When Herr Seelenfromm and M. Rivière came in of a Sunday +evening, Daniel would reach for a volume of E. T. A. Hoffmann +or Clemens Brentano, and read from them until he was hoarse. +He tried in this way to find peace in a strange world; for he did +not wish to weep at the sight of human beings who seemed perfectly +at ease.</p> + +<p>Gertrude looked at him, and put this question to herself: How +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>is it that a man to whom music is life and the paradise of his heart +can allow himself to be so enveloped in sorrow, so beclouded by +gloom? She understood the smarting pains in which he composed; +she had a vague idea of the labyrinthine complications of his inner +fate; these she grasped. But her own soul was filled with joyless +compassion; she wished with all her power to plant greater faith +and more happiness in his heart.</p> + +<p>She meditated on the best means of carrying on her spiritual +campaign. It occurred to her that he had had more of both faith +and happiness at the time he was going with Eleanore. She saw +Eleanore now in a quite different light. She recalled that Eleanore +was not merely her sister but the creator of her happiness. Nor +was she unmindful of the fact that through the transformation +of her being, love and enlightenment had arisen to take the place +of her former suspicion and ignorance.</p> + +<p>She ascribed to Eleanore all those powers in which she had +formerly been lacking: general superiority and stimulating vigour; +an ability to play that lent charm to drudgery and made the hard +things of life easy; brightness in conversation and delicacy of +touch. In her lonely broodings she came to the conclusion that +Eleanore was the only one who could help her. She went straightway +to her father’s house to find out why Eleanore so rarely came +to see her.</p> + +<p>“I don’t like to come; Daniel is so unkind to me,” said Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Gertrude replied that he was unkind to everybody, including +her herself, and that she must not pay any attention to this; for +she knew full well that Daniel liked her—and perhaps he himself +was offended because she never called.</p> + +<p>Eleanore thought it all over, and from then on visited her sister +more frequently. But if it did not look as though Daniel did +everything in his power to avoid her, this much was certain: he +never said a word to her more than human decency required, and +was an expert at finding reasons why he had to leave the room +when she was there. Eleanore was gainfully conscious of this; +it hurt her.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>One morning Gertrude returned from the market, carrying a +heavy basket full of things she had bought. As she came in the +front door she heard Daniel playing. She noticed at once that he +was not improvising; that he was playing a set piece, the tones +of which were quite unfamiliar to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p><p>As she came up the steps, the basket no longer seemed like a +burden. She went quietly into the living room and listened. +Something drew her closer and closer to the piano. Daniel had +not noticed that she had entered the room and sat down. He was +wholly lost in what he was doing; he never took his rapt and +wondering eyes from the music before him.</p> + +<p>It was his draft of the “Harzreise im Winter.” For a year +and a half, since the time he had composed it in Ansbach, he had +never again thought of it; it had lain untouched. Suddenly the +fire of creation had flamed up in him; he could once more bind the +incoherent, and make what had been merely implied or indicated +take definite shape.</p> + +<p>He would play a movement again and again, trying to connect +it with what went before or came after; he would take his pencil +and write in a few notes here or there; then he would try it again, +and smile to himself in a strange, confused, and yet enchanted +way, when he saw that the motif was complete, perfect. Gertrude +was drawn still closer to him. In her awe-struck admiration she +crouched on the floor beside him. She would have liked to creep +into the piano, and give her soul the opportunity it sought to +express itself in the tones that came from the strings. When +Daniel had finished, she pressed her head to his hips, and reached +her hot hands up to him.</p> + +<p>Daniel was terrified; for he recalled instantaneously another +occasion on which another woman had done precisely the same +thing. His eye involuntarily fell on the mask of Zingarella. +He was not conscious of the connection; there was no visible bridge +between the two incidents; Gertrude’s face was too unlike that of +its momentary prototype. But with a feeling of awe he detected +a mysterious liaison between then and now: he imagined he could +hear a voice calling to him from the distant shores of yonder +world.</p> + +<p>He laid his hand on Gertrude’s hair. She interpreted the gesture +as a visible sign that his promise had been fulfilled; that this +work belonged to her; that he had created it for her, had taken it +from her heart, and was returning it to the heart from whence +it came.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>Zierfuss, the music dealer, had sent out invitations to a concert. +Daniel did not feel like going. Gertrude asked Eleanore if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>she would not go with her. Daniel called for them after the +concert.</p> + +<p>Eleanore told him on the way home that she had received a +letter for him that afternoon bearing a London stamp.</p> + +<p>“From Benda?” asked Daniel quickly.</p> + +<p>“It is Benda’s handwriting,” replied Eleanore. “I was going to +bring it to you when Gertrude called for me. Wait out in the +front of the house, and I’ll go in and get it.”</p> + +<p>“Take dinner with us this evening, Eleanore,” said Gertrude, +looking rather uncertainly at Daniel.</p> + +<p>“If it is agreeable to Daniel....”</p> + +<p>“No nonsense, Eleanore, of course it is agreeable to me,” said +Daniel.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later Daniel was sitting by the lamp reading +Benda’s letter.</p> + +<p>The first thing his friend told him was that he was to join a +scientific expedition to the Congo, and that his party would follow +almost exactly the same route that had been taken by the Stanley +Expedition when it set out to look for Emin Pascha.</p> + +<p>Benda wrote: “This letter then, my dear friend, is written to +say good-bye for a number of years, perhaps forever. I feel as if +I had been born anew. I have eyes again; and the ideas that fill +my brain are no longer condemned to be stifled in the morass of +imprisoned colleagues, loyal and inimical. To labour in nature’s +laboratory will make me forget the wrongs I have suffered, the +injustice that has been done me. Hunger and thirst, disease and +danger will of course have to be endured; they are the effects of +those crimes of civilisation that spare the body while they poison +the mind and soul.”</p> + +<p>Further on Benda wrote: “I am bound to my home by only two +people, my mother and you. When I think of you, a feeling of +pride comes over me; every hour we spent together is indelibly +stamped on my heart. But there is one delicate point: it is a +point of conscience. Call it, so far as I am concerned, a chip; call +it anything you please. The fact is I have had a Don Quixotic +run in, and I have got to defend myself.”</p> + +<p>Daniel shook his head and read on. Benda knew nothing of +his marriage. He did not even seem to know that Daniel and +Gertrude had been engaged. Or if he had known it he had +forgotten it. Daniel could hardly believe his own eyes when he +came to the following passage: “My greatest anxiety always lay +in the fear that you would pass Eleanore by. I was too cowardly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>to tell you how I felt on this point, and I have reproached myself +ever since for my cowardice. Now that I am leaving I tell you +how I feel about this matter, though not exactly with the sensation +of performing a belated task.”</p> + +<p>For Heaven’s sake, thought Daniel, what is he trying to do to +me?</p> + +<p>“I have often thought about it in quiet hours; it gave me the +same feeling of satisfaction that I have in a chemical experiment, +when the reactions of the various elements take place as they should: +what Eleanore says is your word; what you feel is Eleanore’s +law.”</p> + +<p>He is seeing ghosts, cried Daniel, he is tangling up the threads +of my life. What does he mean? Why does he do it?</p> + +<p>“Don’t neglect what I am telling you! Don’t crush that wonderful +flower! The girl is a rare specimen; the rarest I know. +You need your whole heart with all its powers of love and kindness +to appreciate her. But if my words reach you too late, please tear +this letter into shreds, and get the whole idea out of your mind +as soon and completely as possible.”</p> + +<p>“Come, let’s eat,” said Gertrude, as she entered the room with +a dish of pickled herring.</p> + +<p>Eleanore was sitting on the sofa looking at Daniel quizzically. +He was lost in thought.</p> + +<p>Daniel looked up, and studied the two women as if they were +the figures of a hallucination: the one in dark red, the other in +dark blue; minor and major keys. The two stood side by side, +and yet so far removed from each other: they were the two poles +of his world.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>“What has Benda got to say?” asked Gertrude hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>“Just think, he is going to Africa,” replied Daniel, with a voice +as if he were lying. “Curious, isn’t it? I suppose he is on the +ocean by this time.”</p> + +<p>With an expression on his face that clearly betrayed the fact +that he was afraid the sisters might somehow divine or suspect the +parts of the letter he wished to keep to himself, he read as much +of it as he dared to them.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you read on?” asked Eleanore, when he paused.</p> + +<p>She bent over the table, filled with a burning curiosity to know +the whole contents of the letter, and while so doing her hair +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>became entangled in the metal bric-a-brac of the hanging lamp. +Gertrude got up and liberated her.</p> + +<p>Daniel had laid his hand over the letter, and was looking at +Eleanore threateningly. His eye and that of the captured girl +chanced to meet; she struggled between a feeling of amusement +and one of annoyance. It gave Daniel an uncomfortable feeling to +have her eyes so close to his.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know that that is not polite?” he asked. “We have +some secrets, probably, Benda and I.”</p> + +<p>“I merely thought that Benda had sent me his greetings,” replied +Eleanore, and blushed with embarrassment.</p> + +<p>Daniel then held the letter above the chimney of the lamp, +waited until it had caught fire, and then threw it on the floor, +where it burned up.</p> + +<p>“It is late, and father is already waiting,” said Eleanore, after +they had eaten in great haste.</p> + +<p>“I will take you home,” declared Daniel. Surprised by such +unusual gallantry, Eleanore looked at him with amazement. He +at once became moody; she was still more surprised. “I can go +home alone, Daniel,” she said in a tone of noticeable seriousness, +“you do not need to put yourself out for me.”</p> + +<p>“Put myself out? What do you mean? Are you one of those +people who can’t keep a tune, and step on the pedal when their +sentiment runs short?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore had nothing to say.</p> + +<p>“Put your great coat on, Daniel,” said Gertrude in the hall, +“it is cold and windy out.”</p> + +<p>She wanted to help him on with it, but he threw it in the +clothes press; he was irritated.</p> + +<p>He walked along at Eleanore’s side through the deserted streets.</p> + +<p>She had already put the key in the front door, when she turned +around, looked up in a most unhappy way, and said: “Daniel, what +in the world is the matter with you? When I look at you, a feeling +of anguish and distress comes over me. What have I done +that you should act so disagreeably toward me?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, forget it, think about something else, don’t mention the +subject any more,” said Daniel, in a rough, rude voice. But the +glance she fixed on him was so stern and unpitying, so testing and +so un-girl-like, so strong and so bold, that he felt his heart grow +softer. “Let us take a little walk,” he said.</p> + +<p>For a long time they paced back and forth in perfect silence. +Then she asked him what he was working on now. He made +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>cautious, non-committal replies, and then suddenly he was overwhelmed +with a flood of words. He remarked that he felt at +times as if he were struggling with goblins in the dark. What +gushed forth from the deepest depths of his soul, he said, was +somehow or other too noisy and blatant, and died in his hands +while he was trying to create an appropriate form for it. He said +he had no success with anything unless it was something disembodied, +incorporeal, the melody of which had thus far found an +echo in no human breast. Therefore he seemed to be groping +around, without anchorage, after sprites from the land of nowhere. +And the more domineering the order was to which he subjected +his mind and his fancy, the more lost and hopeless his earthly self +seemed to be as it drifted in the chaos of the everyday world. +He remarked that heaven was in his dreams, hell in his association +with men. And how dead everything about him seemed to be! +It was all like a cemetery; it was a cemetery. His doughtiest life +was gradually transformed into a shadow and lacerated into a monstrosity. +But that he was aggrieved at men he felt full well; for +they lived more innocent lives than he, and they were more useful.</p> + +<p>“But you have some one to hold to,” said Eleanore, realising that +she was skating on thin ice, “you have Gertrude.”</p> + +<p>To this he made no reply. She waited for him to say something, +and when she saw that he did not care to make a reply of +any kind, she smiled at him as if in a last attempt to get him to +tell her what was the matter. Then all peace of mind vanished +from her soul—and her face. Every time they passed a +street lamp she turned her head to one side.</p> + +<p>“She is after all in the presence of God your wife,” said +Eleanore gently and with remarkable solemnity.</p> + +<p>Daniel looked up and listened as if greatly abashed. Speaking +out into the wind he said: “The over-tone, Eleanore; a bird twittering +in the bush. In the presence of God my wife! But in the +roots the bass is howling; it is an infernal tremolo; do you hear it?”</p> + +<p>He laughed as if mad, and his face, with his spotted teeth, was +turned toward her. She took him by the arm, and implored him +to straighten up.</p> + +<p>He pressed her hand to his forehead, and said: “The letter, +Eleanore, the letter ...!”</p> + +<p>“Now you see, Daniel, I knew it all along. What was in the +letter?”</p> + +<p>“I dare not tell you, otherwise my sweet over-tone will take a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>somersault, become mingled with the gloomy bass, and be lost +forever.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore looked at him in amazement; he had never seemed +so much like a fool to her in her life.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, putting his arm in hers, “I have composed a +song; here is the way it goes.” He sang a melody he had written +for one of Eichendorff’s poems. In it there was a tender sadness. +“While everything is still and everybody asleep, my soul greets +the eternal light, and rests like a ship in the harbour.”</p> + +<p>They had again reached the front door; they had been strolling +back and forth for two hours.</p> + +<p>He had an unpleasant feeling when he went up the steps of +his apartment.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was sitting where he had left her: by the clothes +press. She had wrapped his top coat about her legs, her back was +leaning against the wall, her head had sunk on her shoulder; she +was asleep. She was not awakened by his coming. Beside her +stood the candle, now burned down to the edge of the metal +holder; it was spluttering. The light from it fell on Gertrude’s +face, lighting it up irregularly and lending it a painful expression.</p> + +<p>“In the presence of God my wife,” murmured Daniel. He +did not waken Gertrude until the candle had gone out. Then he +did; she got up, and the two went off in darkness to their bed +room.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span><a name="THE_GLASS_CASE_BREAKS" id="THE_GLASS_CASE_BREAKS"></a>THE GLASS CASE BREAKS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">Daniel</span> wished to see Eleanore skate; he went out to the Maxfeld +at a time he knew she would be there.</p> + +<p>He saw her quite soon, and was delighted when she glided by; +but when she was lost in the crowd, he frowned. High school +boys followed her with cowardly and obtrusive forwardness. One +student, who wore a red cap, fell flat on his stomach as he bowed +to her.</p> + +<p>She ran into two army officers, or they into her; this put an +end for the time being to the inspired grace of her movement. +When she started off a second time, drawing a beautiful circle, she +saw Daniel and came over to him. She smiled in a confidential +way, chatted with him, glided backwards in a circle about him, +laughed at his impatience because she would not stand still, threw +her muff over to him, asked him to throw it back, and, with arms +raised to catch it, cut an artistic figure on the ice.</p> + +<p>The picture she offered filled Daniel with reverence for the +harmony of her being.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>They frequently took walks after sunset out to the suburbs +and up to the castle. Gertrude was pleased to see that Daniel and +Eleanore were good friends again.</p> + +<p>One time when they walked up the castle hill, Eleanore told +Daniel that there was where she had taken leave of Eberhard von +Auffenberg. She could recall everything he said, and she confessed +with marked candour what she had said in reply. The +story about the old herb woman Daniel did not find amusing. He +stopped, and said: “Child, don’t have anything to do with spirits! +Never interfere with your lovely reality.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk in that way,” replied Eleanore. “I dislike it. The +tone of your voice and the expression on your face make me feel +as if I were a woman of worldly habits.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p><p>They went into the Church of St. Sebaldus, and revelled in the +beauty of the bronze castings on the tomb of the saint. They +also went to the Germanic Museum, where they loved to wander +around in the countless deserted passage-ways, stopped and studied +the pictures, and never tired of looking at the old toys, globes, +kitchen utensils, and armour.</p> + +<p>Eleanore’s greatest pleasure, however, was derived from sauntering +through the narrow alleys. She like to stand in an open door, +and look into the court at some weather-beaten statue; to stand +before the window of an antique shop, and study the brocaded +objects, silver chains, rings with gaudy stones, engraved plates, and +rare clocks. All manner of roguish ideas came to her mind, and +around every wish she wove a fairy tale. The meagrest incident +sufficed to send her imagination to the land of wonders, just as if +the fables and legends that the people had been passing on from +hearth to hearth for centuries were leading a life of reality over +there.</p> + +<p>The tailor sitting with crossed legs on his table; the smith hammering +the red-hot iron; the juggler who made the rounds of the +city with the trained monkey; the Jewish pawnbroker, the chimney +sweep, the one-legged veteran, an old woman who looked out from +some cellar, a spider’s nest in the corner of a wall—around all +these things and still others she wound her tale of weal or woe. It +seemed that what she saw had never been seen by mortal eyes +before. It seemed that the things or people that attracted her +attention had not existed until she had seen them. For this reason +she was never in a bad humour, never bored, never lazy, never +tired.</p> + +<p>There was something about her, however, that Daniel could not +understand. He did not know wherein the riddle lay, he merely +knew that there was one. If she gave him her hand, it seemed +to him that there was something unreal about it. If he requested +that she look at him, she did so, but it seemed that her glance was +divided, half going to the left, half to the right, neither meeting +his. If she came so close to him that their arms touched, he had +the feeling that he could not take hold of her if he wished to.</p> + +<p>He struggled against the enticement that lay in this peculiarity.</p> + +<p>Her presence ennobled his ambition and dispelled his whims. +She gave him the beautifully formed cloud, the tree covered with +young foliage, the moon that rises up over the roofs of the houses—she +gave him the whole earth over which he was hastening, a +stranger to peace, unfamiliar with contentment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p><p>He cherished no suspicion; he had no foreshadowing of his +fate. And Eleanore was not afraid of him; she, too, was without +a sense of danger.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>One Sunday afternoon in April they took a walk out into the +country. Gertrude had been suffering for weeks from lassitude +and could not go with them.</p> + +<p>Eleanore was a superb walker. It gave Daniel extreme pleasure +to walk along with her, keeping step, moving hastily. The quick +movement increased his susceptibility to the charm of the changing +landscapes. It was quite different when he walked with Gertrude. +She was slow, given to introspection, thoughtful, and not very +strong.</p> + +<p>In the course of an hour clouds gathered in the sky, the sun +disappeared, big drops began to fall. Eleanore had taken neither +umbrella nor rain coat along; she began to walk more rapidly. If +they tried, they could reach the inn beyond the forest, and find +shelter from the storm.</p> + +<p>Just as they slipped through the crowd that had hurried up the +road to the same refuge and entered the inn, the sluices of heaven +seemed to open, and a cloud-burst followed. They were standing +in the hall. Eleanore was warm, and did not wish to remain in +the draught. They went into the restaurant; it was so full that +they had considerable trouble to find seats. A working man, his +wife, and four sickly-looking children squeezed up more closely +together; the two youngest boys gave them their chairs and went to +look for others.</p> + +<p>The clouds hung low, causing premature darkness. Lamps were +lighted, and their odour mingled freely with the other odours of +this overcrowded room. A few village musicians played some +unknown piece; the eyes of the workingman’s children shone with +delight. Because they sat there so quietly—and because they looked +so pale—Eleanore gave each of the children a sandwich. The +mother was very grateful, and said so. The father, who said he +was the foreman in a mirror factory, began to talk with Daniel +about the troubles of the present era.</p> + +<p>All of a sudden Daniel caught sight of a familiar face at a +nearby table. As it turned to one side, he saw in the dim, smelly +light another face he knew, and then a third and a fourth. It +was all so ghost-like in the room that it was some time before he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>knew just where to place them. Then it occurred to him where +they came from.</p> + +<p>Herr Hadebusch and Frau Hadebusch, Herr Francke and +Benjamin Dorn were having a little Sunday outing. The brush-maker’s +wife was radiant with joy on seeing her old lodger. She +nodded, she blinked, she folded her hands as if touched at the +sight, and Herr Hadebusch raised his beer glass, eager to drink a +toast to Daniel’s health.</p> + +<p>They could not quite make out who Eleanore was; they took +her for Daniel’s wife. This misunderstanding, it seemed, was +then cleared up by the Methodist after he had craned his neck and +called his powers of recognition into play. The demoniac woman +nodded, to be sure, and kept on blinking, but in her face there was +an expression of rustic disapproval. Her mouth was opened, and +the tusks of her upper jaw shone forth uncannily from the black +abyss.</p> + +<p>The swan neck of the Methodist was screwed up so hardily +and picturesquely above the heads of the others that Eleanore +could not help but notice his physical and spiritual peculiarities. +She wrinkled her brow, and looked at Daniel questioningly.</p> + +<p>She looked around, and saw a great many people from the city +whom she knew either by name or from having met them so frequently. +There was a saleswoman from Ludwig Street; a clerk +with a pock-marked face from a produce store; the dignified +preceptress of a Kindergarten; an official of the savings bank; the +hat-maker from the corner of the Market Place with his grown +daughter; and the sergeant who invariably saluted when he passed +by her.</p> + +<p>All these people were in their Sunday clothes and seemed care-free +and good natured. But as soon as they saw Eleanore a mean +expression came over them. The fluttering of the lights made +their faces look ghastly, while partial intoxication made it easy +to read their filthy, lazy thoughts. Full of anxiety, Eleanore +looked up at Daniel, as if she felt she would have to rely on his +wealth of experience and greater superiority in general.</p> + +<p>He was sorry for her and sorry for himself. He knew what +was in store for him and her. When he looked over this Hogarthian +gathering, and saw, despite its festive, convivial mood, hidden +lusts of every description, crippled passions, secreted envy, and +mysterious vindictiveness spread about like the stench of foul +blood, he felt it was quite futile to cherish delusions of any kind +as to what was before him. To spare Eleanore and to defend her, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>to leave her rather than be guilty of causing the child-like smile +on her lips to die out and disappear forever—this he believed in +the bottom of his heart he could promise both her and himself.</p> + +<p>The working man and his family had left; and as it was no +longer raining, most of the other guests had also gone. Up in +the room above people were dancing. The lamps were shaking, +and it was easy to hear the low sounds of the bass violin. Daniel +took out his pencil, and began writing notes on the table. Eleanore +bent over, looking at him, and, like him, fell to dreamy thinking.</p> + +<p>Neither wished to know what the other was thinking; they entertained +themselves in silence; inwardly they were drawn closer and +closer together, as if by some mysterious and irresistible power. +They had not noticed that it was evening, that the room was empty, +that the waiters had taken the glasses away, and that the dance +music in the room above had stopped.</p> + +<p>They sat there in the half-lighted corner side by side, as if in +some dark, deserted cavern. When they finally came out of their +deep silence and looked at each other, they were first surprised +and then dismayed.</p> + +<p>“What are we going to do?” asked Eleanore half in a whisper, +“it is late; we must be going home.”</p> + +<p>The sky was clouded, a warm wind swept across the plains, the +road was full of puddles. Here and there a light flashed from the +darkness, and a dog barked every now and then in the distant +villages. When the road turned into the forest, Daniel gave +Eleanore his arm. She took it, but soon let go. Daniel stopped, +and said almost angrily: “Are we bewitched, both of us? Speak, +Eleanore, speak!”</p> + +<p>“What is there for me to say?” she asked gently. “I am frightened; +it is so dark.”</p> + +<p>“You are frightened, Eleanore, you? You do not know the +night. It has never yet been night in your soul; nor night in the +world about you. Now you appreciate perhaps how a being of the +night feels.”</p> + +<p>She made no reply.</p> + +<p>“Give me your hand,” he said, “I will lead you.”</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand. Soon they saw the lights of the city. +He took her to her house; but when they reached it, they did not +say good-bye: they looked at each other with dazed, helpless, +seeking eyes; they were both pale and speechless.</p> + +<p>Eleanore hastened into the hall, but turned as she reached the +stairs, and waved to him with a smile, as if the two were separated +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>by a hazy distance. As he fixed his eyes on the spot where he +saw the slender figure disappear, he felt as if something were +clutching his throat.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Without the slightest regard for time, without feeling tired, +without definite thoughts, detached from the present and all sense +of obligation, Daniel wandered aimlessly through the streets. A +low dive on Schütt Island saw him as a late guest. He sat there +with his hands before his eyes, neither seeing nor hearing nor +feeling, all crouched up in a bundle. Dirty little puddles of gin +glistened on the top of the table, the gamblers were cursing, the +proprietor was drunk.</p> + +<p>The fire alarm drove him out: there was a fire in the suburbs +of Schoppershof. The sky was reddened, it was drizzling. It +seemed to Daniel that the air was reeking with the premonition +of a heart-crushing disaster. Above the Laufer Gate a sheaf of +sparks was whirling about.</p> + +<p>Just then the melody for which he had waited so long throughout +so many nights of restless despair arose before him in a +grandiose circle. It seemed as if born for the words of the +“Harzreise”: “With the dim burning torch thou lightest for him +the ferries at night over bottomless paths, across desolate fields.”</p> + +<p>In mournful thirds, receding again and again, the voices sank +to earth; just one remained on high, alone, piously dissociated +from profane return.</p> + +<p>He hummed the melody with trembling lips to himself, until +he met the nineteenth-century Socrates with his followers in the +Rosenthal. They were still gipsying through the night.</p> + +<p>They all talked at once; they were going to the fire. Daniel +passed by unrecognised. The shrill voice of the painter Kropotkin +pierced the air: “Hail to the flames! Hail to those whose coming +we announce!” The laughter of the slough brothers died away +in the distance.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was standing at the head of the stairs with a candle +in her hand; she had been waiting there since twelve o’clock. At +eleven she had gone over to her father’s house and rung the bell. +Eleanore, frightened, had raised the window, and called down to +her that Daniel had left her at nine.</p> + +<p>He took the half-inanimate woman into the living room: “You +must never wait for me, never,” he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p><p>He opened the window, pointed to the glowing sky beyond the +church, and as she leaned her head, with eyes closed, on his +shoulder, he said with a scurrilous distortion of his face: “Behold! +The fire! Hail to the flames! Hail to those whose coming we +announce!”</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>The following morning Eleanore had no time to think of why +Daniel had not gone home.</p> + +<p>Jordan had just finished his breakfast when some one rang the +door bell with unusual rapidity. Eleanore went to the door, and +came back with Herr Zittel, who was in a rare state of excitement.</p> + +<p>“I have come to inquire about your son, Jordan,” he began, +clearing his throat as though he were embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“About my son?” replied Jordan astonished, “I thought you had +given him three days’ leave.”</p> + +<p>“I know nothing about that,” replied Herr Zittel.</p> + +<p>“Last Saturday evening he went on a visit to his friend Gerber +in Bamberg to celebrate the founding of a club, or something of +that sort; we are not expecting him until to-morrow. If you +know nothing about this arrangement, Herr Diruf must have given +him his leave.”</p> + +<p>The chief of the clerical department bit his lips. “Can you +give me the address of this Herr Gerber?” he asked, “I should +like to send him a telegram.”</p> + +<p>“For heaven’s sake, what has happened, Herr Zittel?” cried +Jordan, turning pale.</p> + +<p>Herr Zittel stared into space with his gloomy, greenish eyes: +“On Saturday afternoon Herr Diruf gave your son a cheque for +three thousand seven hundred marks, and told him to cash it at +the branch of the Bavarian Bank and bring the money to me. I +was busy and did not go to the office in the afternoon. To-day, +about a half-hour ago, Herr Diruf asked me whether I had +received the money. It turned out that your son had not put in +his appearance on Saturday, and since he has not shown up this +morning either, you will readily see why we are so uneasy.”</p> + +<p>Jordan straightened up as stiff as a flag pole: “Do you mean to +insinuate that my son is guilty of some criminal transaction?” he +thundered forth, and struck the top of the table with the bones +of his clenched fist.</p> + +<p>Herr Zittel shrugged his shoulders: “It is, of course, possible +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>that there has been some misunderstanding, or that some one has +failed to perform his duty. But in any event the affair is serious. +Something must be done at once, and if you leave me in the lurch +I shall have to call in the police.”</p> + +<p>Jordan’s face turned ashen pale. For some reason or other he +began to fumble about in his long black coat for the pocket. The +coat had no pocket, and yet he continued to feel for it with hasty +fingers. He tried to speak, but his tongue refused to obey him; +beads of perspiration settled on his brow.</p> + +<p>Eleanore embraced him with solicitous affection: “Be calm, +Father, don’t imagine the worst. Sit down, and let us talk it +over.” She dried the perspiration from his forehead with her +handkerchief, and then breathed a kiss on it.</p> + +<p>Jordan fell on a chair; his powers of resistance were gone; he +looked at Eleanore with beseeching tenseness. From the very first +she had known what had happened and what would happen. But +she dared not show him that she was without hope; she summoned +all the power at her resourceful command to prevent the old man +from having a paralytic stroke.</p> + +<p>With the help of Herr Zittel she wrote out a telegram to +Gerber. The answer, to be pre-paid, was to be sent to the General +Agency of the Prudentia, and Eleanore was to go to the main office +between eleven and twelve o’clock. She accompanied Herr Zittel +to the front door, whereupon he said: “Do everything in your +power to get the money. If the loss can be made good at once, +Herr Diruf may be willing not to take the case to the courts.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore knew full well that it would be exceedingly difficult +to get such a sum as this. Her father had no money in the bank; +his employer had lost confidence in him because he could no +longer exert himself; what he needed most of all was a rest.</p> + +<p>She entered the room with a friendly expression on her face, +and remarked quite vivaciously: “Now, Father, we will wait and +see what Benno has to say; and in order that you may not worry +so much, I will read something nice to you.”</p> + +<p>Sitting on a hassock at her father’s feet she read from a recent +number of the <i>Gartenlaube</i> the description of an ascent of Mont +Blanc. Then she read another article that her eye chanced to fall +upon. All the while her bright voice was ringing through the +room, she was struggling with decisions to which she might come +and listening to the ticking of the clock. That her father no +more had his mind on what she was reading than she herself was +perfectly clear to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p><p>Finally the clock struck eleven. She got up, and said she had +to go to the kitchen to make the fire. A maid usually came in at +eleven to get dinner for the family, but to-day she had not +appeared. Out in the hall Eleanore took her straw hat, and +hastened over to Gertrude’s as fast as her feet could carry her. +Daniel was not at home; Gertrude was peeling potatoes.</p> + +<p>In three sentences Eleanore had told her sister the whole story. +“Now you come with me at once! Go up and stay with Father! +See that he does not leave the house! I will be back in half +an hour!”</p> + +<p>Gertrude was literally dragged down the steps by Eleanore; +before she could ask questions of any kind, Eleanore had disappeared.</p> + +<p>At the General Agency Herr Zittel met her with the reply from +that Gerber, Benno’s friend. It bore Gerber’s signature, and +read: “Benno Jordan has not been here.”</p> + +<p>Benjamin Dorn stood behind Herr Zittel; he displayed an +expression of soft, smooth, dirge-like regret.</p> + +<p>“Herr Diruf would like to speak to you,” said Herr Zittel +coldly.</p> + +<p>Eleanore entered Herr Diruf’s private office; her face was pale. +He kept on writing for about three minutes before he took any +notice of her. Then his plum-like eyes opened lazily, a rare, +voluptuous smile sneaked out from under his moustache like a slothful +flash of heat lightning; he said: “The sharper has gone and +done it, hasn’t he?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore never moved.</p> + +<p>“Can the embezzled money be returned within twenty-four +hours?” asked the pudgy, purple prince of pen-pushers.</p> + +<p>“My father will do everything that is humanly possible,” replied +Eleanore anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Be so good as to inform your father that to-morrow morning +at twelve o’clock the charge will be preferred and placed in the +hands of the police, if the money has not been paid by that +time.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore hastened home. Now her father had to be brought +face to face with the realities of the case. He and Gertrude were +sitting close to each other in terrible silence. Eleanore revealed +the exact state of affairs; she had to.</p> + +<p>“My good name!” groaned Jordan.</p> + +<p>He had to save himself from disgrace; the twenty-four hours +seemed to offer him a sure means of doing this. He had not the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>remotest doubt but that he could find friends who would come +to his aid; for he had something of which he could boast: a +blameless past and the reputation of being a reliable citizen.</p> + +<p>Thus he thought it over to himself. And as soon as he made +up his mind to appeal to the friends of whom he felt he was +certain, the most difficult part of his plan seemed to have been +completed. The suffering to which he was condemned by his +wounded pride and his betrayed, crushed filial affection he had to +bear alone. He knew that this was a separate item.</p> + +<p>He went out to look up his friends.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>The first one he appealed to was the brother-in-law of his sister, +First Lieutenant Kupferschmied, retired. His sister had died six +months ago, leaving nothing; the lieutenant, however, was a well-to-do +man. He had married into the family of a rich merchant. +Jordan’s relation to him had always been pleasant; indeed the old +soldier seemed to be very fond of him. But hardly had Jordan +explained his mission when the lieutenant became highly excited. +He said he had seen this disaster coming. He remarked that any +man who brings up his children in excessive ease must not be surprised +if they come to a bad end. He remarked, too, that no power +on earth could persuade him to invest one penny in Jordan’s case.</p> + +<p>Jordan went away speechless.</p> + +<p>The second friend he appealed to was his acquaintance of long +standing, Judge Rübsam. From him he heard a voluble flow of +words dealing with regrets, expressions of disgust, one lament after +the other, a jeremiade on hard times, maledictions hurled at dilatory +creditors, infinite consolation—and empty advice. He assured +Jordan that yesterday he had almost the requisite sum in cash, and +that he might have it again some time next month, but to-day—ah, +to-day his taxes were due, and so on, and so on.</p> + +<p>Oppressed by the weight of this unexpected humiliation, he +went to the third friend, a merchant by the name of Hornbusch, +to whom he had once rendered invaluable assistance. Herr Hornbusch +had forgotten all about this, though he had not forgotten +that he had vainly sounded in Jordan’s ears a warning against the +ever-increasing flippancy of young Benno. He told Jordan that +he himself was just then in urgent need of money, that he had +only last month been obliged to sacrifice a mortgage, and that his +wife had pawned her diamonds.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p><p>Thus it went with the fourth friend, an architect who had told +him once that he would sacrifice money and reputation for him if +he ever got into trouble. And it was the same story with the fifth +and sixth and seventh. With a heart as heavy as lead, Jordan +decided to take the last desperate step: He went to Herr Diruf +himself. He asked for a three days’ extension of time. Diruf +sat inapproachable at his desk. He was smoking a big thick Havana +cigar, his solitaire threw off its blinding fireworks, he smiled a +cold, tired smile and shook his head in astonishment.</p> + +<p>When Jordan came home that evening he found Daniel and +Gertrude in the living room. Gertrude went up to him to support +him; then she brought him a glass of wine as a stimulant: +he had not eaten anything since breakfast.</p> + +<p>“Where is Eleanore?” he murmured, but seemed to take no +interest in the reply to his question. He fell down on a chair, +and buried his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>Gertrude, who saw his strength leaving him as the light dies out +of a slowly melting candle, became dizzy with compassion. Her +last hope was in Eleanore, who had left at five o’clock simply +because she found it intolerable to sit around, hour after hour, +doing nothing but waiting for the return of her father. At every +sound that could be heard in the house, Gertrude pricked up her +ears in eager expectancy.</p> + +<p>Daniel stood by the window, and looked out across the deserted +square into the dull red glow of the setting sun.</p> + +<p>It struck seven, then half past seven, eight, and Eleanore had not +returned. Daniel began to pace back and forth through the room; +he was nervous. If his foot chanced to strike against a chair, +Gertrude shuddered.</p> + +<p>Shortly after eight, steps were heard outside. The key rattled +in the front gate, the room door opened, and in came Eleanore—and +Philippina Schimmelweis.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Everybody looked at Philippina; even Jordan himself honoured +her with a faint glance. Daniel and Gertrude were amazed. +Daniel did not recognise his cousin; he knew nothing about her; +he had seen her but once, and then he was a mere child. He did +not know who this repulsive-looking individual was, and demanded +that Eleanore give him an explanation. As he did this, he raised +his eyebrows.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p><p>Eleanore was the only one Philippina looked at in a kindly way; +in Philippina’s own face there was an expression of curiosity.</p> + +<p>Philippina’s whole bearing had something of the monstrous about +it. Even her dress was picturesque, adventuresome. Her great +brown straw hat, with the ribbon sticking straight up in the air, +was shoved on to the back of her head so as not to spoil the effect +of the fashionable bangs that hung down over her forehead. Her +loud, checkered dress was strapped about her waist with a cloth +belt so tightly that the contour of her fat body was made to look +positively ridiculous: she resembled a gigantic hour glass. In her +rough-cut features there was an element of lurking malevolence.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes of painful stillness she walked up to Daniel, +and plucked him by the coat-sleeve: “Eh, you don’t know who I +am?” she asked, and her squinty eyes shone on him with enigmatic +savagery: “I am Philippina; you know, Philippina Schimmelweis.”</p> + +<p>Daniel stepped back from her: “Well, what of it?” he asked, +wrinkling his brow.</p> + +<p>She followed him, took him by the coat-sleeve again, and led +him over into one corner: “Listen, Daniel,” she stammered, “my +father—he must give you all the money you need. For years ago +your father gave him all the money he had, and told him to keep +it for you. Do you understand? I happened to hear about it +one time when my father was talking about it to my mother. It +was a good seven years ago, but I made a note of it. My father +spent the money on himself; he thinks he can keep it. Go to him, +and tell him what you want; tell him how much you want, and +then go help these people here. But you must not give me away; +if you do they’ll kill me. Do you understand? You won’t say +a word about it, will you?”</p> + +<p>“Is that true?” Daniel managed to say in reply, as a feeling of +unspeakable anger struggled with one of indescribable disgust.</p> + +<p>“It is true, Daniel, every word of it; ’pon my soul and honour,” +replied Philippina; “just go, and you’ll see that I have told you +the truth.”</p> + +<p>During the conversation of the two, of which she could hardly +hear a single syllable, Eleanore never took her eyes off them.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Since the day Philippina had made her little brother Markus a +cripple for life, she had been an outcast in the home of her parents.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p><p>To be sure, she had had no great abundance of kindness and +cheerfulness before the accident took place. But since that time +the barbarous castigation of her father had beclouded and besmirched +her very soul. From her twelfth year on, her mind was +ruled exclusively by hate.</p> + +<p>Hatred aroused her; it gave birth to thoughts and plans in her; +it endowed her with strength of will and audacity; and it matured +her before her time.</p> + +<p>She hated her father, her mother, her brothers.</p> + +<p>She hated the house with all its rooms; she hated the bed in +which she slept, the table at which she ate. She hated the people +who came to see her parents, the customers who came into the shop, +the loafers who gathered about the window, the tall lanky +Zwanziger, the books and the magazines.</p> + +<p>But the day she overheard her father and mother talking about +that money, a second power had joined the ranks of hate in her +benighted, abandoned soul. With her brain on fire she stood +behind the door, and heard that she was to be married to Daniel. +This remark had filled the then thirteen-year-old girl with all the +savage instincts of a bound and fettered woman, with all the +crabbedness of an unimaginative person of her standing.</p> + +<p>In her father’s remark she did not see merely a more or less +carefully outlined plan; she heard a message from Fate itself; and +from that time on she lived with an idea that brought light and +purpose into her daily existence.</p> + +<p>Shortly after his arrival in Nuremberg, she saw Daniel for the +first time as he was standing by a booth in the market place on +Schütt Island. Her father had pointed him out to her. She +knew that he wished to become a musician; this made no special +impression on her. She knew that he was having a hard time of +it; this filled her neither with sympathy nor regret. When she +later on saw him in the concert hall, he was already her promised +spouse; he belonged to her. To capture him, to get him into her +power, it made no difference how, was her unchanging aspiration, +in which there was a bizarre mixture of bestiality and insanity.</p> + +<p>The thieving, which she decided upon at once and practised +with perfect regularity, netted her in the course of time a handsome +sum. She did not become bolder and bolder as she continued +her evil practices, but, unlike thieves generally, she grew to be +more and more cautious. She acquired in time remarkable skill +at showing an outwardly honest face. Indeed she became such an +adept at dissimulation that the suspicion of even Jason Philip, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>aroused as it had been during the course of a careful investigation, +was dispelled by her behaviour.</p> + +<p>Her plan was to gain a goodly measure of independence through +the money she had stolen. For she always felt convinced that the +day would come when her parents would debar her from their +home. She was convinced that her father and mother were merely +waiting for some plausible excuse to rid themselves of her for +good and all.</p> + +<p>Moreover, she had two pronounced passions: one for candy and +one for flashy ribbons.</p> + +<p>The candy she always bought in the evening. She would slip +into the shop of Herr Degen, and, with her greedy eyes opened +as wide as possible, buy twenty pfennigs’ worth of sweets, at which +she would nibble until she went to bed.</p> + +<p>The ribbons she sewed together into sashes, which she wore on +her hat or around her neck or on her dress. The gaudier the +colour the better she liked it. If her mother asked her where +she got the ribbons she was forced to lie. Although she had no +girl friends, as a matter of fact no friends of any kind, she would +say that this or that girl had given them to her. When her wealth +became too conspicuous, she would leave the house and not tie her +sashes about her until she had reached some unlighted gateway +or dark corner.</p> + +<p>She never dared go to the attic more than once a week; she did +this when her brothers were at school and her parents in the shop. +The fear lest some one find her out and take her stolen riches from +her made her more and more uneasy, lending to her face an expression +of virulent distrust.</p> + +<p>She would go up the thirteen steps from the landing to the +attic with trembling feet. The fact that there were exactly thirteen +was the first thing that awakened her superstition. As the +months crept on, she resigned to this superstition with the abandon +of an inveterate voluptuary. If she chanced to put her left foot +first on the bottom step and not to notice it until she was half way +up, she would turn around, come down, and relinquish the pleasure +of seeing her treasures for the rest of that week.</p> + +<p>She was afraid of ghosts, witches, and magicians; if a cat ran +across the street in front of her, she turned as white as chalk.</p> + +<p>Theresa did not keep a maid; Philippina helped in the kitchen; +this ruined her complexion, and made her skin rough and horny. +Frequently she got out of washing dishes by simply running away. +On these occasions Theresa would create such an uproar that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>the neighbours would come to the window and look out. Philippina +avenged herself by purposely ruining the sheets, towels, and +shirts that lay in the clothes basket. When in this mood and at +this business, she made use of a regular oath that she herself had +formulated: it consisted of sentences that sounded most impressive, +though they had no meaning.</p> + +<p>She cherished the odd delusion that it lay in her power to bring +misfortune to other people. The time Jason Philip complained +of poor business she felt an infernal sense of satisfaction. His +change of political views had driven away his old customers, and +the new ones had no confidence in him. He had to go in for the +publication of dubious works, if he wished to do any business at +all. The result of this was that when people passed by the Schimmelweis +bookshop, they stopped before the window, looked at his +latest output, and smiled contemptuously. The workman’s insurance +no longer paid as it used to, for the credit of the Prudentia +and its agents had suffered a violent setback.</p> + +<p>The rise and fall in bourgeois life follows a well established +law. In a single day the honesty and diligence of one man, the +tricks and frauds of another, grow stale, antiquated. Thus Jordan’s +affairs started on the down grade, and Jason Philip’s likewise.</p> + +<p>Philippina ascribed their failure to the quiet influence of her +destructive work. Every bit of misfortune in the life of her +father loosened by that much the chain that prevented her from +complete freedom of movement. In her most infamous hours she +would dream of the hunger and distress, bankruptcy and despair +of her people. Once this state of affairs had been realised, she +would no longer have to play the rôle of Cinderella; she would +no longer have to be the first one up in the morning; she would +no longer have to chop wood, and polish her brothers’ boots: she +would have a fair field and no favours in her campaign to capture +Daniel.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>At times she thought she could simply go to him and stay with +him. At times she felt that he would come and get her. One +thing or the other had to take place, she thought.</p> + +<p>One Sunday afternoon—it chanced to be her eighteenth birthday—a +junior agent of Jason Philip, a fellow by the name of +Pfefferkorn, came to the house, and in the course of the conversation +remarked rather casually that the elder of the Jordan sisters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +was engaged to the musician Nothafft, that the engagement had +been kept secret for a while, but that the wedding was to take +place in the immediate future.</p> + +<p>“By the way, I hear that the musician is your nephew,” said +Pfefferkorn at the close of his report.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip cast a gloomy look into space, while Theresa, then +sipping her chicory coffee, set her cup on the table, and looked at +the man with scornful contempt.</p> + +<p>Philippina broke out in a laughter that went through them like +a knife. Then she ran from the room, and banged the door +behind her. “She seems a bit deranged,” murmured Jason Philip +angrily.</p> + +<p>Then came that June night on which she did not come home at +all. Jason Philip raged and howled when she returned the next +morning; but she was silent. He locked her up in the cellar for +sixteen hours; but she was silent.</p> + +<p>After this she did not leave the house for months at a time; +she did not wash or comb her hair; she sat crouched up in the +kitchen with her long, dishevelled, unwashed hair falling in loose +locks down over her neck and shoulders.</p> + +<p>A feeling of consuming vengeance seethed in her heart; the +patience she was forced to practise, much against her will, petrified +in time into a mien of hypocritic sottishness.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she took to dressing up again and sauntering through +the streets in the afternoon. Her loud ribbons awakened the +mocking laughter of young and old.</p> + +<p>She had learned that Eleanore Jordan was attending the lectures +in the Cultural Club. She went too; she always crowded up close +to Eleanore, but she could not attract her attention. One time +she sat right next to Eleanore. A strolling pastor delivered a +lecture on cremation. Philippina took out her handkerchief, and +pressed it to her eyes as though she were weeping. Eleanore, +somewhat concerned, turned to her, and asked her what was the +matter. She said that it was all so sad what the old gentleman was +saying. Eleanore was surprised, for nothing the speaker had said +was sad or in any way likely to bring tears to the eyes of his +auditors.</p> + +<p>At the end of the lecture she left the hall with Eleanore. When +the ugly, disagreeable creature told her of the wretchedness of her +life, how she was abused by her parents and brothers, and that +there was not a soul in the world who cared for her, Eleanore was +moved. The fact that Philippina was Daniel’s blood cousin made +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>her forget the aversion she felt, and drew from her a promise to +go walking with her on certain days.</p> + +<p>Eleanore kept her promise. She was not in the least disconcerted +by the queer looks cast at her by the people they met. With perfect +composure she walked along by the side of this strapping, quackish +young woman dressed in the oddest garments known to the art +of dress-making. At first they strolled in broad daylight through +the park adjoining the city moat. Later Eleanore arranged to +have the walks, which were to take place two or three times a +month, postponed until after sunset.</p> + +<p>This was quite agreeable to Philippina. She threw out a hint +every now and then that there was a mysterious feud between the +Schimmelweis family and the Nothaffts, and implored Eleanore +never to let Daniel know that she was taking these walks with her. +It was painful to Eleanore to have Philippina make such requests +of her. The lurking manner in which she would turn the conversation +to the affairs of Daniel and Gertrude had an element of +offensive intrusiveness in it. She wanted to know first this, then +that. She even had the impudence to ask about Gertrude’s dowry; +and finally she requested that Eleanore bring her sister along some +time when they went walking.</p> + +<p>Eleanore came to have a feeling of horror at the sight or thought +of Philippina; she was dismayed too when, despite the darkness, +she noticed the shrewish look of incorrigible wickedness in Philippina’s +face. An ineluctable voice put her on her guard. In so far +as she could do it without grievously offending Philippina, she +withdrew from further association with her. And even if she had +not promised her absolute silence, a feeling half of fear and half +of shame would have prevented her from ever mentioning Philippina’s +name in Daniel’s presence.</p> + +<p>She never once suspected that Philippina was spying on her. +Philippina soon found out just when, how often, and where Daniel +and Eleanore met; and wherever they went, she followed at a safe +distance behind them. Why she did this she really did not know; +something forced her to do it.</p> + +<p>What she had succeeded in doing with Eleanore she now wished +to do with Gertrude. She would bob up all of a sudden in the +butcher shop, at the vegetable market, in the dairy, anywhere, stare +at Gertrude, act as though she were intensely interested in something, +and make some such remarks as: “Lord, but beans are dear +this year”; or “That is a nasty wind, it is enough to give you +the colic.” But Gertrude was far too lost to the world and much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>too sensitive about coming in contact with strangers to pay any +attention to her awkward attempts at approach.</p> + +<p>“Just wait,” thought Philippina, enraged, “the penalty of your +arrogance will some day descend upon your head.”</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>On that Monday so fatal for the Jordan family, Philippina +had another violent quarrel with her mother. Theresa was still +shrieking, when Jason Philip came up from the shop to know what +could be wrong.</p> + +<p>“Don’t ask,” cried Theresa at the top of her shrill voice, “go +teach your daughter some manners. The wench is going to end +up in jail; that’s what I prophesy.”</p> + +<p>Philippina made a wry face. Jason Philip, however, was little +inclined to play the rôle of an avenging power: he had something +new on the string; his face was beaming.</p> + +<p>“I met Hornbusch,” he said, turning to Theresa, “you know +him, firm of Hornbusch heirs, bloody rich they are, and the man +tells me that young Jordan has embezzled some money from the +Prudentia and left the country. I went at once to the Prudentia, +and Zittel told me the whole story, just as I had heard it. It is +almost four thousand marks! Jordan has been requested to make +good the deficit; but he hasn’t a penny to his name and is in a +mighty tight place, for Diruf is threatening to send him to jail. +You know, Diruf is hard-boiled in matters of this kind. What do +you think of that?”</p> + +<p>Theresa wrapped her hands in her apron, and looked at Jason +Philip out of the corner of her eye. She guessed at once the +cause of his joy, and hung her head in silence.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip smirked to himself. Leaning up against the Dutch +tiles of the stove, he began to whistle in a happy-go-lucky mood. +It was the “Marseillaise.” He whistled it partly out of forgetfulness +and partly from force of habit.</p> + +<p>He had not noticed how Philippina had listened to every syllable +that fell from his lips; how she was holding her breath; that her +features were lighted up from within by a terrible flame of fire. +He did notice, however, that she got up at the close of his remarks +and left the room with rustling steps.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later she was standing before Jordan’s house. She +sent a small boy in with the request that Fräulein Eleanore come +down at once. The boy came back, and said that Fräulein Eleanore +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>was not at home. She took her position by the front gate, and +waited.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>Driven by the torment of her soul, Eleanore had gone to Martha +Rübsam’s only to hear that her father had been there three hours +earlier. From the confused and embarrassed conduct of her friend +she learned that her father had made a request of Judge Rübsam, +and a fruitless one at that.</p> + +<p>Then she stood for a while on one of the leading streets, and +stared in bewilderment at the throngs of people surging by. It +was all so cruelly real.</p> + +<p>She thought of whom she might go to next. A wave of purple +flashed across her face as she thought of Eberhard. Involuntarily she +made a passionate, deprecating gesture, as if she were saying: No, +no, not to him! The first ray of this hope was also the last. Her +conscience struck her; but she was helpless. Here was a feeling +impervious to reason; armed ten times over against encouragement. +Anyhow, he was not at home. She thought of this with a sigh of +relief.</p> + +<p>Would Daniel go to the Baroness? No; that could not be +thought of for a minute.</p> + +<p>She could no longer endure the city nor the people in it. She +walked through the park out into the country. She could not stand +the sight of the sky or the distant views; she turned around. She +came back to The Füll, entered the Carovius house, and rang Frau +Benda’s bell. She knew the old lady was away, and yet, as if +quite beside herself, she rang four times. If Benda would only +come; if the good friend were only sitting in his room and could +come to the door.</p> + +<p>But there was not a stir. From the first floor the sounds of a +piano floated out the window; it was being played in full chords. +Down in the court Cæsar was howling.</p> + +<p>She started back home with beating heart. At the front gate +she saw Philippina.</p> + +<p>“I have heard all about your misfortune,” said Philippina in +her shrill voice. “Nobody can help you but me.”</p> + +<p>“You? You can help?” stammered Eleanore. The whole +square began to move, it seemed, before her.</p> + +<p>“Word of honour—I can. I must simply have a talk with Daniel +first. Let’s lose no time. Is he upstairs?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p><p>“I think he is. If not, I will get him.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s go up, then.”</p> + +<p>They went up the stairs.</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>Jason Philip had been invited to a sociable evening in the +Shufflers’ Club. He was now enjoying his siesta after his banquet +by reading an editorial in the <i>Kurier</i>. One of Bismarck’s addresses +had been so humorously commented on that every now and then +Jason Philip emitted a malevolent snarl of applause.</p> + +<p>He had brought a lemon along home with him; it was lying on +a plate before him, sliced and covered with sugar. From time to +time he would reach over, take a piece and stick it in his mouth. +He smacked his tongue with the display of much ceremony of his +kind, and licked his lips after swallowing a piece. His two sons +gaped at his hand with greedy eyes and likewise licked their +lips.</p> + +<p>Willibald was groaning over an algebraic equation. In his pale, +pimpled face were traces of incapability and bad humour. Markus, +owing to his physical defect, was not allowed to study by artificial +light. He helped his mother shell the peas, and in order to make +her angry at Philippina, kept making mean remarks about her staying +out so long.</p> + +<p>Just as the last piece of the lemon disappeared behind Jason +Philip’s moustache, the door bell rang.</p> + +<p>“There is a man out there,” said Markus, who had gone to the +door and was now standing on the threshold, stupidly staring with +his one remaining eye.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip stretched his neck. Then he got up. He had +recognised Daniel standing in the half-lighted hall.</p> + +<p>“I have something to say to you,” said Daniel, as he entered the +room. His eyes gazed on the walls and at the few cheap, ugly, +banal objects that hung on them: a newspaper-holder with embroidered +ribbons; a corner table on which stood a beer mug representing +the fat body of a monk; an old chromic print showing a volunteer +taking leave of his big family as he starts for the front. These +things appealed to Daniel somewhat as an irrational dream. Then, +taking a deep breath, he fixed his eyes on Jason Philip. In his +mind’s eye he looked back over many years; he saw himself standing +at the fountain in Eschenbach. Round about him glistened the +stones and cross beams of the houses. Jason Philip was hurrying +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>by at a timid distance. There was bitterness in his face: he seemed +to be fleeing from the world, the sun, men, and music.</p> + +<p>“I have something to say to you,” he repeated.</p> + +<p>Theresa felt that the worst of her forebodings were about to be +fulfilled. With trembling knees she arose. She did not dare +turn her eyes toward the place in the room where Daniel was +standing. She did not see, she merely sensed Jason Philip as +he beckoned to her and his sons to leave the room. She took +Markus by the hand and Willibald by the coat-sleeve, and marched +out between the two.</p> + +<p>“What’s the news?” asked Jason Philip, as he crossed his arms +and looked at the pile of beans on the table. “You have a—what +shall I say?—a very impulsive way about you. It is a way that +reminds me of the fact that we have a law in this country against +disturbing the peace of a private family. Your stocks must have +gone to the very top of the market recently. Well, tell me, what +do you want?”</p> + +<p>He cleared his throat, and beat a tattoo on the elbows of his +crossed arms with his fingers.</p> + +<p>Daniel felt that his peace was leaving him; his own arm seemed +to him like a shot-gun; it itched. But thus far he could not say +a thing. The question he had in mind to put to Jason Philip was +of such tremendous import that he could not suppress his fear that +he might make a mistake or become too hasty.</p> + +<p>“Where is the money my father gave you?” came the words at +last, rolling from his lips in a tone of muffled sullenness.</p> + +<p>The colour left Jason Philip’s face; his arms fell down by +his side.</p> + +<p>“The money? Where it’s gone to? That your father—?” +He stuttered in confusion. He wanted to gain time; he wanted +to think over very carefully what he should say and what he could +conceal. He cast one glance at Daniel, and saw that it was not +possible to expect mercy from him. He was afraid of Daniel’s +bold, lean, sinewy face.</p> + +<p>He nearly burst with anger at the thought that this young man, +for whom he, Jason Philip, was once the highest authority, should +have the unmitigated audacity to call him to account. In this +whole situation he pictured himself as the immaculate man of +honour that he wished he was and thought he was in the eyes of +his fellow citizens. At the same time he was nearly stifled with +fear lest he lose the money which he had long since accustomed +himself to regard as his own, with which he had worked and speculated, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>and which by this time was as much a part of his very +being as his own house, his business, his projects. He buried his +hands in his pockets and snorted. His cowardly dread of the consequences +of fraud forced him into a half confession of fraud, +but in his words lay the feverish pettifogging of the frenzied +financier who fights for Mammon even unto raging and despair.</p> + +<p>“The money is here; of course it is. Where did you think it +was? My books will show exactly how much of it has found its +way over to Eschenbach in the shape of interest and loans. My +books are open to inspection; the accounts have been kept right +up to this very day. I have made considerable progress in life. A +man who has lived as I have lived does not need to fear a living +soul. Do you imagine for a minute that Jason Philip Schimmelweis +can be frightened by a little thing like this? No, no, it +will take more of a man than you to do that. Who are you +anyhow? What office do you hold? What authority have you? +With what right do you come rushing into the four walls of my +home? Do you perhaps imagine that your artistic skill invests you +with special privileges? I don’t give a tinker’s damn for your art. +The whole rubbish is hardly worth spitting on. Music? Idiocy. +Who needs it? Any man with the least vestige of self-respect +never has anything to do with music except on holidays and when +the day’s work is done. No, no, you can’t impress me with your +music. You’re not quite sane! And if you think that you are +going to get any money out of me, you are making the mistake +of your life. It is to laugh. If a man wants money from me, +he has to come to me at least with a decent hair-cut and show +me at least a little respect. He can’t come running up like a kid +on the street who says: ‘Mumma, gif me a shent; I want to buy +some tandy.’ No, no, son, you can’t get anything out of me +that way.”</p> + +<p>The smile that appeared on Daniel’s face filled Jason Philip with +mortal terror. He stopped his talk with incriminating suddenness. +He decided to hold in and to promise Daniel a small payment. +He hoped that by handing over a few hundred marks he could +assure himself the desired peace of mind.</p> + +<p>But Daniel never felt so certain of himself in his life. He +thought of the hardships he had had to endure, and his heart +seemed as if it were on fire. At the same time he was ashamed of +this man and disgusted with him.</p> + +<p>He said quietly and firmly: “I must have three thousand seven +hundred marks by ten o’clock to-morrow morning. It is a question +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>of saving an honourable and upright family from ruin. If this +sum is handed over to me promptly, I will waive all rights to the +balance that is due me, in writing. The receipt will be filled out +ready for delivery in my house. If the money is not in my +hands by the stipulated time, we will meet each other in another +place and in the presence of people who will impress you.”</p> + +<p>He turned to go.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip’s mouth opened wide, and he pressed his fist to the +hole made thereby. “Three thousand seven hundred marks?” he +roared. “The man is crazy. Completely crazy is the man. Man, +man, you’re crazy,” he cried in order to get Daniel to stop. “Are +you crazy, man? Do you want to ruin me? Don’t you hear, +you damned man?”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked at Jason Philip with a shudder. The door to +the adjoining room sprang open, and Theresa rushed in. Her face +was ashen pale; there were just two little round red spots on her +cheek bones. “You are going to get that money, Daniel,” she +howled hysterically, “or I am going to jump into the Pegnitz, +I’ll jump into the Pegnitz and drown myself.”</p> + +<p>“Woman, you ...” he gnashed his teeth, and seized her by the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>She sank down on a chair, and, seizing her hair, continued: +“He is everywhere, and wherever he is, our dear Gottfried, he is +looking at me. He stands before the clothes press, at the cupboard, +by my bedside, nods, exhorts, raises his finger, finds no +peace in his grave, and does not let me sleep; he has not let me +sleep all these years.”</p> + +<p>“Now listen, you had better think of your children,” snapped +Jason Philip.</p> + +<p>Theresa let her hands fall in her lap, and looked down at the +floor: “All that nice money, that nice money,” she cried. Then +again, this time with a face distorted beyond easy recognition and +at the top of her voice: “But you’ll get it, Daniel; I’ll see to it +that you get it: I’ll bring it to you myself.” Then again, in a +gentle voice of acute lamentation: “All that nice money.”</p> + +<p>Daniel was almost convulsed. It seemed to him as if he had +never rightly understood the word <i>money</i> before, as if the meaning +of <i>money</i> had never been made clear to him until he heard +Theresa say it.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow morning at ten o’clock,” he said.</p> + +<p>Theresa nodded her head in silence, and raised her hands with +outstretched fingers as if to protect herself from Jason Philip. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>Willibald and Markus had crept under the door. The gate must +not have been closed, for just then Philippina came in. She had +come over with Daniel, but had remained outside on the street. +She could not wait any longer; she was too anxious to see the +consequences of her betrayal.</p> + +<p>She looked around with affected embarrassment. Was it merely +the sight of her that aroused Jason Philip’s wrath? Was it the +half-cowardly, half-cynical smile that played around her lips? Or +was it the cumulative effect of blind anger, long pent up and eager +to be discharged, that made Jason Philip act as he did? Or did +he have a vague suspicion of what Philippina had done? Suffice +it to say, he leapt up to her and struck her in the face with +his fist.</p> + +<p>She never moved a muscle.</p> + +<p>Indignant at the rudeness of his conduct, Daniel stepped between +Jason Philip and his daughter. But the venomous scorn in the +girl’s eyes stifled his sympathy; he turned to the door, and went +away in silence.</p> + +<p>“All that nice money,” murmured Theresa.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>When Daniel told the Jordans that the money would be there +the next morning, Jordan looked at him first unbelievingly, and +then wept like a child.</p> + +<p>Eleanore reached Daniel both her hands without saying a word. +Gertrude, who was lying on the sofa, straightened up, smiled +gently, and then lay down again. Daniel asked her what was the +matter. Eleanore answered for her, saying that she had not felt +well since some time in the afternoon. “She must go to bed, she +is tired,” added Eleanore.</p> + +<p>“Well, come then,” said Daniel, and helped Gertrude to get +up. But her legs were without strength; she could not walk. She +looked first at Daniel and then at Eleanore; she was plainly worried +about something.</p> + +<p>“You won’t care, will you, Father, if I go home with them?” +asked Eleanore in a tone of flattery.</p> + +<p>“No, go, child,” said Jordan, “it will do me good to be alone +for a few minutes.”</p> + +<p>Daniel and Eleanore took Gertrude between them. At the second +landing in their apartment, Daniel took Gertrude in his +arms, and carried her into the bedroom. She did not want him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>to help her take off her clothes; she sent him out of the room. +A cup of warm milk was all she said she wanted.</p> + +<p>“There is no milk there,” said Eleanore to Daniel, as she +entered the living room. He stopped suddenly, and looked at her +as if he had awakened from a fleeting dream: “I’ll run down to +Tetzel Street and get a half a litre,” said Eleanore. “I’ll leave +the hall door open, so that Gertrude will not be frightened when +I come in.”</p> + +<p>She had already hastened out; but all of a sudden she turned +around, and said with joyful gratitude, her blue eyes swimming +in the tears of a full soul: “You dear man.”</p> + +<p>His face took on a scowl.</p> + +<p>There was a fearful regularity in his walking back and forth. +The chains of the hanging lamp shook. The flame sent forth a +thin column of smoke; he did not notice it. “How long will she +be gone?” he thought in his unconscious, drunken impatience. +He felt terribly deserted.</p> + +<p>He stepped out into the hall, and listened. There hovered +before him in the darkness the face of Philippina. She showed +the same scornful immobility that she showed when her father +struck her in the face. He stepped to the railing, and sat down +on the top step; a fit at once of weakness and aimless defiance came +over him. He buried his face in his hands; he could still hear +Theresa saying, “All that nice money.”</p> + +<p>There were shadows everywhere; there was nothing but night +and shadows.</p> + +<p>Eleanore, light-hearted and light-footed, returned at last. When +she saw him, she stopped. He arose, and stretched out his arms +as if to take the milk bottle. That is the way she interpreted his +gesture, and handed it to him in surprise. He, however, set it +down on the landing beside him. The light from the living room +shone on it and made it look sparkling white. Then he drew +Eleanore to him, threw his arms around her, and kissed her on the +mouth.</p> + +<p>Merely a creature of man, only a woman, nothing but heart and +breath, all longing and forgetting, forgetting for just one moment, +finding herself for a moment, knowing her own self for a moment—she +pressed close up to him. But her hands were folded between +her breast and his, and thus separated their bodies.</p> + +<p>Then she broke away from him, wrung her hands, looked up at +him, pressed close up to him again, wrung her hands again—it was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>all done in absolute silence and with an almost terrible grace and +loveliness.</p> + +<p>Everything was now entirely different from what it had been, +or what she had formerly imagined it to be; there were depths to +everything now. She lost herself; she ceased to exist for a +moment; darkness enveloped her much-disciplined heart; she +entered upon a second existence, an existence that had no similarity +with the first.</p> + +<p>To this existence she was now bound; she had succumbed to it: +the law of nature had gone into effect. But the glass case had +been shattered; it was in pieces. She stood there unprotected, even +exposed, so to speak, to men, no longer immune to their glances, +an accessible prey to their touch.</p> + +<p>She went into the kitchen, and heated the milk. Daniel returned +to the living room. His veins were burning, his heart was +hammering. He had no sense of appreciation of the time that +had passed. When Eleanore came into the room, he began to +tremble.</p> + +<p>She came up to him, and spoke to him in passionate sadness: +“Have you heard about Gertrude? Don’t you know, really? She +is with child—your wife.”</p> + +<p>“I did not know it,” whispered Daniel. “Did she tell you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, just now.”</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span><a name="TRES_FACIUNT_COLLEGIUM" id="TRES_FACIUNT_COLLEGIUM"></a>TRES FACIUNT COLLEGIUM</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">The</span> habitués of the reserved table at the Crocodile were all +reasonably well informed of the events that had recently taken +place in the homes of Inspector Jordan and Jason Philip Schimmelweis. +Details were mentioned that would make it seem probable +that the cracks in the walls and the key-holes of both houses +had been entertaining eavesdroppers.</p> + +<p>Some refused to believe that Jason Philip had made restitution +for the money young Jordan had embezzled. For, said Degen, +the baker, Schimmelweis is a hard-fisted fellow, and whoever +would try to get money out of him would have to be in the possession +of extraordinary shrewdness.</p> + +<p>“But he has already paid it,” said Gründlich, the watchmaker. +He knew he had; he knew that the wife of the bookseller had +gone over to Nothafft’s on Tuesday afternoon; that she had a heap +of silver in a bag; and that when she came back home she took to +bed, and had been ill ever since.</p> + +<p>Kitzler, the assistant postmaster, felt there was something wrong +here; and if there was not, you would simply have to assume that +Nothafft, the musician, was a dangerous citizen, who had somehow +managed to place the breast of his uncle <i>vis-à-vis</i> a revolver.</p> + +<p>“And you know, Nothafft is to be made Kapellmeister at the +City Theatre,” remarked the editor Weibezahl, the latest member +of the round table. “His appointment is to be made public in a +few days.”</p> + +<p>“What! Kapellmeister! You don’t say so! That will make +Andreas Döderlein the saddest man in ten states.”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius, whose mouth was just then hanging on his beer +glass, laughed so heartily that the beer went down his Sunday +throat; he was seized with a coughing spell. Herr Korn slapped +him on the back.</p> + +<p>It was a shame that such a bad actor as Nothafft had to be +endured in the midst of people who lived peaceful and law-abiding +lives. This lament came from Herr Kleinlein, who had been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>circuit judge now for some time. He was anxious to know whether +all the tales that were circulating concerning Nothafft were true.</p> + +<p>Well, he was told, a great many things are said about Nothafft, +but it is difficult to get at the truth. They appealed to the apothecary +Pflaum, on the ground that his assistant knew the musician +and might be able to give them some definite information.</p> + +<p>Herr Pflaum took on an air as if he knew a great deal but was +under obligations not to tell. Yes, yes, he said rather perfunctorily, +he had heard that some one had said that Nothafft was running a +pretty questionable domestic establishment; that he had a rather +unsavoury past; and that there was some talk about his neglecting +his wife.</p> + +<p>The deuce you say! Why, they were married only a short +while ago. Yes, but there was a rumour to the effect that there +was a woman in the case. Who could it be? Ahem! Well-ah, +it would be a good idea to be cautious about mentioning names. +Good Lord, why cautious? Why not straight out with the information +any one chanced to be fortunate enough to have? Is it not +a question of protecting one’s own wife and daughters?</p> + +<p>And so this slanderous babble rattled on. There was something +unfathomable in their hatred of the musician. They were +just as agreed on this point as they would have been if Daniel had +broken open their strong boxes, smashed their windows, and betrayed +their honour and dignity to public ridicule.</p> + +<p>They did not know what they should do about him. They +passed by him as one would pass by a bomb that might or might +not explode.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>When Herr Carovius was alone, he picked up the paper, and +read the account of a mine explosion in Silesia. The number of +killed satisfied him. The description of the women as they stood +at the top of the shaft, wept, wrung their hands, and called out +the names of their husbands, filled him with the same agreeable +sensation that he experienced when he listened to the melancholy +finale of a Chopin nocturne.</p> + +<p>But he could not forget the expression on Herr Pflaum’s face +when he told how Nothafft was neglecting his wife. It had been +the expression that comes out, so to speak, from between the curtains +of a sleeping room: something was up, make no mistake, something +was going on.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p><p>For quite a while Herr Carovius had harboured the suspicion +that there was something wrong. Twice he had met Daniel and +Eleanore walking along the street in the twilight, talking to each +other in a very mysterious way. Things were going on behind +Herr Carovius’s back which he could not afford to overlook.</p> + +<p>Since the day Eleanore had disentangled the cord of his nose +glasses from the button of his top coat, the picture of the young +girl had been indelibly stamped on his mind. He could still see +the beautiful curvature of her young bosom as she raised her arm.</p> + +<p>A year and a half after this incident, Herr Carovius was going +through some old papers. He chanced upon an unfinished letter +which Eberhard von Auffenberg had written to Eleanore but had +never posted. Eberhard had come to Nuremberg at the time to +transact some business connected with the negotiation of a new +loan; he had left his hotel, and Herr Carovius had had to wait +for him a long while. This time he had spent in looking over +the unsealed documents of the incautious young Baron.</p> + +<p>Then it was that he discovered the letter. What words! And +oh, the passion! Herr Carovius would never have believed that +the reserved misanthrope was capable of such a display of emotion. +He felt that Eberhard had disclosed to him the most secret chambers +of his heart. He was terrified at the voluptuousness revealed +to him by the unveiling of the mystery of his soul. They are +human beings after all, those members of the nobility, he exclaimed +with a feeling of personal triumph. They throw themselves +away; they meet some slippery imp, and fall; they lose +control of themselves as soon as they hear a skirt rustle.</p> + +<p>But what concerned the Baron in this case concerned also Herr +Carovius. A passion that had taken possession of the Baron had +to be guarded, studied, and eventually shared by Herr Carovius +himself.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius’s loneliness had gradually robbed him of his +equanimity. Suppressed impulses were stifling his mind with the +luxuriant growths of a vivid and vicious imagination. The adventures +into which he had voluntarily plunged in order to make sure +of his control over Eberhard had almost ruined him. The net +he had spread for the helplessly fluttering bird now held him +himself entangled in its meshes. The world to him was a body +full of wounds on which he was battening his Neronic lusts. But +it was at the same time a tapestry, with bright coloured pictures +which could be made living and real by a magic formula, and this +formula he had not yet been able to discover.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p><p>At the insinuations of the apothecary his fancy took on new +life: he was not a man in whose soul old emotions died out; his +lusts never became extinct. Lying on the sofa, taking his midday +siesta, he would picture the figure of Eleanore dancing around +him in diminutive form. When he sat at the piano and played +an <i>étude</i>, he imagined he saw Daniel standing beside him criticising +his technique—and doing it with much show of arrogance. When +he went out of evenings, he saw Nothafft displayed on all the +signs, while every <i>demi-monde</i> bore Eleanore’s features.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him in time that Eleanore Jordan was his property; +that he had a right to her. His life, he felt, was full of lamentable +privations: other people had everything, he had nothing. Others +committed crimes; all he could do was to make note of the crimes. +And no man could become either satiated or rich from merely taking +the criminal incidents of other people’s lives into account.</p> + +<p>At midnight he put on his sleeping gown, took a seat before +the mirror, and read until break of day a novel in which a man +fifty years old has a secret and successful love affair with a young +woman. As he read this novel he knew that something was going +on. And he knew that out there in a certain house on Ægydius +Place something was also going on. Make no mistake, something +was up.</p> + +<p>He saw trysts on unlighted stairways. He saw people coming +to mutual understandings by a certain pressure of the hand and +adulterous signals. That is the way they did it; that is the way +Benda and Marguerite had done it. His old hate was revived. +He transferred his hate, but also his hope, to music. Through +music he was to build a bridge to Daniel and Eleanore. He +wanted to give them the advantage of his insight, his tricks, his +experience, simply in order that he might be on hand when they +committed the gruesome deed; so that he might not be cut off +from them by an impenetrable wall and be tortured in consequence +by an incorporeal jealousy; he wanted to be one with them, to +feast his eye and reach forth his empty, senescent hand.</p> + +<p>“I am,” he said to himself, “of the same flesh and blood as +that man; in me too there is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. I have, +to be sure,” he said to himself, “despised women, for they are +despicable. But let some woman come forward and show me +that she is fit for anything more than to increase by two or three +the number of idiots with which the world is already overcrowded, +and I will do penance, whole and complete, and then offer her +my services as a knight.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p><p>He no longer slept or ate; nor could he do anything that was +in any way rational. In a belated sexual outburst, a second +puberty, his imagination became inflamed by a picture which he +adorned with all the perfections of both soul and body.</p> + +<p>He heard that one of Daniel’s works was to be played before +invited guests at the home of Baroness von Auffenberg. He wired +to Eberhard, and asked him to get him an invitation. The reply +was a negative one. In his rage he could have murdered the messenger +boy. He then wrote to Daniel, and, boasting of what he +had already done for him, begged Daniel to see to it that he +was among the guests at the recital. He received a printed card +from the Baroness, on which she had expressed the hope that she +might be able to greet him on a certain day.</p> + +<p>He was in the seventh heaven. He decided to pay Daniel a +visit, and to thank him for his kindness.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>“The only thing to do is to leave the city, to go far, far away +from here,” thought Eleanore, on that evening that was so different +from any other evening of her life.</p> + +<p>While she was combing her hair, she was tempted to take the +scissors and cut it off just to make herself ugly. In the night she +went to the window to look for the stars. If it only had not +happened, if it only were a dream, a voice within her cried.</p> + +<p>As soon as it turned grey in the morning, she got up. She +hastened through the deserted streets, just as she had done yesterday, +out to the suburbs. But everything was different. Tree +and bush looked down upon her with stern reproachfulness. The +mists hung low; but the hazy grey cold of the early morning +was like a bath to her. Later the sun broke through; primroses +glistened with gold on the meadow. If it could only have been +a dream, she thought in silence.</p> + +<p>When she came home, her father had already received the news +about the money: it had been paid to Diruf; Daniel had taken it +to him.</p> + +<p>Jordan remained in his room the whole day. And on the +following day he kept to himself except while at dinner. He sat +at the table with bowed head; he had nothing to say. Eleanore +went to his door from time to time to see if she could hear him. +There was not a sound; the house sang with solitude.</p> + +<p>Jordan had requested the landlord to sublet the house before +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>his lease had expired: he felt that it was too large and expensive +for him in the present state of his affairs. The landlord approved +of the idea. In the house where Daniel and Gertrude were living +there were two vacant rooms in the attic. Gertrude suggested to +her father that it would be well for him to take them. Jordan +agreed with her.</p> + +<p>Eleanore began to think the situation over: if Father moves into +those rooms, I can leave him. She learned from Gertrude, who +came now to see her father every other day, that Daniel had +received the appointment as Kapellmeister at the City Theatre. +Eleanore could carry out her plans then with a clear conscience, +for her brother-in-law and her sister were getting along quite +well at present.</p> + +<p>She recalled some conversations she had had with M. Rivière, +who had advised her to go to Paris. Since Christmas, when he was +invited to be present at the distribution of the presents, he had +been coming to Jordan’s quite frequently to talk French with +Eleanore. This was in accord with her express desire.</p> + +<p>One afternoon she went to visit M. Rivière. He was living in +the romantic place up by the gardener on Castle Hill. His room +had a balcony that was completely overgrown with ivy and elder, +while in the background the trees and bushes of the city moat +formed an impenetrable maze of green. The spring air floated +into the room in waves. As Eleanore made her business known, +she fixed her enchanted eyes on a bouquet of lilies of the valley +that stood on the table in a bronze vase.</p> + +<p>M. Rivière took a handful of them, and gave them to her. +They had not been cut; they had been pulled up by the roots. +Eleanore laughed happily at the fragrance.</p> + +<p>M. Rivière said he was just about to write to his mother in +Paris, and as she was so familiar with the city, she could be of +great help to Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Eleanore stepped out on the balcony. “The world is beautiful,” +she thought, and smiled at the fruitless efforts of a tiny beetle +to climb up a perpendicular leaf. “Perhaps it was after all +merely a dream,” she thought, and thereby consoled herself.</p> + +<p>When she returned, Daniel was at her father’s. The two men +were sitting in the dark.</p> + +<p>Eleanore lighted the lamp. Then she filled a glass with water, +and put the lilies of the valley in it.</p> + +<p>“Daniel wants to know why you never visit them any more,” +said Jordan, weak and distraught as he now always was. “I told +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>him you were busy at present with great plans of your own. +Well, what does the Frenchman think about it?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore answered her father’s question in a half audible voice.</p> + +<p>“Go wherever you want to go, child,” said Jordan. “You have +been prepared for an independent life in the world for a long while; +there is no doubt about that. God forbid that I should put any +hindrances in your way.” He got up with difficulty, and turned +toward the door of his room. Taking hold of the latch, he +stopped, and continued in his brooding way: “It is peculiar that +a man can die by inches in a living body; that a man can have +the feeling that he’s no longer a part of the present; and that he +can no longer play his rôle, keep up with his own people, grasp +what is going on about him, or know whether what is to come is +good or evil. It is fearful when a man reaches that stage, fearful—fearful!”</p> + +<p>He left the room, shaking his head. To Daniel his words +sounded like a voice from the grave.</p> + +<p>They had been silent for a long while, he and Eleanore. Suddenly +he asked gruffly: “Are you serious about going to Paris?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I am,” she said, “what else can I do?”</p> + +<p>He sprang up, and looked angrily into her face: “One has to +be ashamed of one’s self,” he said, “human language becomes +repulsive. Don’t you have a feeling of horror when you think? +Don’t you shudder when you reflect on that caricature known as +the heart, or the soul, or whatever it may be called?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand you, Daniel,” said Eleanore. She would +never have considered it possible that he would look with disfavour +on her contrition and the decision that had sprung from it. Then +it had not after all been the flash of a solitary second? Had she +not hoped and expected to hear a self-accusation from him that +would make her forget all and forgive herself? Where was she? +In what world or age was she living?</p> + +<p>“Do you believe that I merely wanted to enjoy a diverting and +momentary side-step?” Daniel continued, measuring her with his +eyes from head to foot. “Do you believe that it is possible to +jest with the most sacred laws of nature? You have had a good +schooling, I must say; you do your teachers honour. Go! I don’t +need you. Go to Paris, and let me degenerate!”</p> + +<p>He stepped to the door. Then he turned, and took the lamp, +which she had removed from the holder when she lighted it. Holding +the lamp in his right hand, he walked close up to her. Her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>eyes closed involuntarily. “I simply wanted to see whether it was +really you,” he said with passionate contempt. “Yes, it is you,” +he said scornfully, “it is you.” With that he placed the lamp +on the table.</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand you, Daniel,” she said softly. She looked +around for some object to rest her eyes on.</p> + +<p>“So I see. Good night.”</p> + +<p>“Daniel!”</p> + +<p>But he had already gone. The hall door closed with a bang. +The house sang with solitude.</p> + +<p>The green threadbare sofa, the old, old smoke stains on the +whitewashed ceiling, the five rickety chairs that reminded her of +so many decrepit old men, the mirror with the gilded angel of +stucco at the top—all these things were so tiring, so irksome, so +annoying: they were like underbrush in the forest.</p> + +<p>Little brother! Little brother!</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Three evenings of the week were devoted to opera, the others +to drama.</p> + +<p>The first Kapellmeister was a middle-aged man whose curly hair +made him the idol of all flappers. He was lazy, uncultivated, +and his name was Lebrecht.</p> + +<p>The director was an old stager who referred to the public about +as a disrespectful footman refers to his lord. At Daniel’s suggestions +for improving the repertory, he generally shrugged his +shoulders. The operas in which he had the greatest confidence +as drawing cards were “The Beggar Student,” “Fra Diavolo,” +“L’Africaine,” and “Robert le Diable.” The singers and the +orchestra were not much better than those of the lamented +Dörmaul-Wurzelmann troupe. The possibility of arousing them +to intensified effort or filling them with a semblance of intelligent +enthusiasm for art was even less. Privileges based on length of +service and the familiar traditions of indolence made æsthetic +innovations unthinkable.</p> + +<p>Wherever careworn Philistines and slothful materialists occupy +the seats from which art should raise her voice, advancement, +progress born of sacrificial application, is out of the question: the +most it is reasonable to expect is a bourgeois fulfilment of inescapable +duties. In such, cases the flower droops; the dream vanishes; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>the free-born spirit has the choice of fighting day in and +day out against the collective demons of pettiness and mediocrity, +or of going down in admitted defeat.</p> + +<p>“Stuff the people can easily digest, my dear boy, that is the +idea,” said the director.</p> + +<p>“What are you so excited about? Don’t you know these people +haven’t a musical muscle in their whole soul?” said Lebrecht.</p> + +<p>“For nine consecutive years I have been singing F sharp at this +opera house, and now here comes a <i>musicien</i> from the backwoods +and demands all of a sudden that I sing F!” This was the commentary +of Fräulein Varini, the prima donna whose outstanding +bosom had long been a source of human merriment to pit, stall, +and gallery.</p> + +<p>“Ah, he is a greasy grind determined to arrive,” said the first +violinist.</p> + +<p>“He’s a spit-fire,” said the lad who beat the big drum, when +Daniel threatened to box his ears for a false intonation.</p> + +<p>The Baroness had secured a publisher in Leipzig for his cycle +of sixteen songs; the compositions were to be brought out at her +expense. That did not have the right effect: it was not something, +Daniel felt, that he had fought for and won; it was not a +case where merit had made rejection impossible. He had the +feeling that he was selling his soul and was being paid to do it. +Moreover, and worst of all, he had to express his gratitude for this +act. The Baroness loved to have somebody thank her for what she +had done. She never once suspected that what Daniel wanted was +not benefactors, but people who were stirred to the depths of their +souls by his creations. The rich cannot sense the feelings of the +poor; the higher classes remain out of contact with the lower.</p> + +<p>His excitability saved him. In his magnificent solicitude for +the mission that is at once the token and the curse of those who +are really called, he shut himself off from a world from which +the one thing he wanted was bread; bread and nothing else.</p> + +<p>After the publication of the songs a review appeared in the +<i>Phœnix</i> which had a remarkably realistic ring to the ear of the +layman. As a matter of fact it was merely an underhanded attempt +at assassination. The thing was signed with a big, isolated “W.” +Wurzelmann, the little slave, had shot from his ambush.</p> + +<p>Other musical journals copied this review. A half dozen people +bought the songs; then they were forgotten.</p> + +<p>It was no use to hope. The trouble was, he needed bread, just +bread.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p><h3>V</h3> + +<p>It was often difficult for him to find the peace and quiet necessary +for effective work. May brought cold weather; they had to +make a fire; the stove smoked; the potter came in and removed the +tiles; the room looked like an inferno.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was pounding sugar: “Don’t be angry at me, Daniel; +I must pound the sugar to-day.” And she pounded away until the +hammer penetrated the paralysed brain of the listener by force of +circumstances.</p> + +<p>The hinges of the door screeched. “You ought to oil them, +Gertrude.” Gertrude looked high and low for the oil can, and +when she finally found it, she had no feather to use in smearing +the oil on. She went over to the chancellor’s, and borrowed one +from her maid. While she was gone, the milk boiled over and +filled the house with a disagreeable stench.</p> + +<p>The door bell rang. It was the cobbler; he had come to get +the money for the patent leather shoes. The wives of Herr +Kirschner and Herr Rübsam had both said that Daniel must not +think of appearing at the coming recital at the Baroness’s without +patent leather shoes.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t the money, Gertrude; have you got that much?”</p> + +<p>Gertrude went through her chests, and scraped up five marks +which she gave the cobbler as a first instalment. The man went +away growling; Daniel hid from him.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was sitting in the living room making clothes for +her baby-to-come. There was a happy expression on her face. +Daniel knew that it was a display of maternal joy and expectation, +but since he could not share this joy, since indeed he felt a sense +of fear at the appearance of the child, her happiness embittered +him.</p> + +<p>Between the fuchsias in the window stood a robin red-breast; +the impish bird had its head turned to one side, and was peeping +into the room: “Come out,” it chirped, “come out.” And Daniel +went.</p> + +<p>He had an engagement with M. Rivière at the café by the +market place. Since he no longer saw anything of Eleanore, he +wanted to find out how her plans for going to Paris were getting +along.</p> + +<p>The Frenchman told of the progress he was making in his +Caspar Hauser research. In his broken German he told of the +murder of body and soul that had been committed in the case of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>the foundling: “He was a mortal man <i>comme une étoile</i>,” he +said. “The bourgeoisie crushed him. The bourgeoisie is the +<i>racine</i> of all evil.”</p> + +<p>Daniel never mentioned Eleanore’s name. He tried to satisfy +himself by the fact that she kept out of his sight. He bit his +lips together, and said: I will. But a stronger power in him said, +No, you won’t. And this stronger power became a beggar. It +went around saying, Give me, please, give me!</p> + +<p>The billiard balls rattled. A gentleman in a red velvet vest +had a quarrel with a shabby looking fellow who had been reading +<i>Fliegende Blätter</i> for the last two hours; he would begin over +and over again at the very beginning, and break out into convulsions +of laughter every time he came to his favourite jokes.</p> + +<p>Daniel was silent; he insisted somehow on remaining silent. +M. Rivière wished, for this reason, to hear something about the +“Harzreise.” By way of starting a discussion he remarked quite +timidly that <i>sans musique la vie est insupportable</i>, “There is something +about music that reminds one of insanity,” he remarked. +He said there were nights when he would open a volume of +Schubert’s or Brahms’s songs, leaf through them, read the notes, +and hum the melodies simply in order to escape the despair which +the conduct of the people about him was emptying into his heart. +“<i>Moi</i>, I ought to be, how do you say? stoic; <i>mais</i> I am not. In +me there is <i>trop de musique, et c’est le contraire</i>.”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked at him in astonishment. “Come with me,” he said +suddenly, got up, and took him by the arm.</p> + +<p>They met Eleanore in the hall. She had been up in the new +flat with the whitewasher. Her father was to move in the following +day.</p> + +<p>“Why was all this done so quickly?” asked Daniel, full of a +vague happiness that drew special nourishment from the fact that +Eleanore was plainly excited.</p> + +<p>“Mere chance,” she said, and carefully avoided looking at him. +“A captain who is being transferred here from Ratisbon is moving +in our place. It is a pity to leave the good old rooms. The +second-hand dealer is going to get a deal of our stuff; there is +no room for it up there in those two cubby holes. How is +Gertrude? May I go up and see her for a minute or two?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, go right up,” said Daniel stiffly; “you can stay and listen +if you wish to. I am going to play the Harzreise.”</p> + +<p>“If I wish to? I almost have a right to; you promised me this +long ago.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p><p>“She thinks after all that I want to catch her,” he thought to +himself. “It will be better for me to drop the whole business +than to let the idea creep into her stupid skull that my composition +is going to make propaganda for our private affairs.” With +bowed head he ascended the stairs, M. Rivière and Eleanore following +along behind. His ears were pricked to hear anything they +might say about Paris; they talked about the weather.</p> + +<p>As they entered the room Gertrude had the harp between her +knees; but she was not playing. Her hands lay on the strings, +her head was resting on the frame. “Why haven’t you lighted a +lamp?” asked Daniel angrily.</p> + +<p>She was terrified; she looked at him anxiously. The expression +on her face made him conscious of many things that he had kept +in the background of his thoughts during his everyday life: her +unconditional surrender to him; the magnanimity and nobility of +her heart, which was as dependent on his as the mercury in the +thermometer is dependent on the atmosphere; her speechless resignation +regarding a thousand little things in her life! her wellnigh +supernatural ability to enter into the spirit and enjoyment of what +he was doing, however much his mind might presume to write +<i>De profundis</i> across his creations.</p> + +<p>It was on this account that he recognised in her face a serious, +far-away warning. At once cowardly and reverential, conscious +of his guilt and yet feeling innocent, he went up to her and +kissed her on the hair. She leaned her head on his breast, thus +causing him to feel, though quite unaware of it herself, the whole +weight of the burden she was placing on him.</p> + +<p>He told her he was going to play. He said: “I have lost my +picture again; I want to try to find it in others.”</p> + +<p>Gertrude begged him, with a pale face, to be permitted to stay +in the living room. She closed the door only partly.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>In Goethe’s verses entitled “Harzreise im Winter,” thoughts +lie scattered about like erratic strata in the world of geology, and +feelings that are as big and terrible as the flames from burning +planets. In Daniel’s work the whole of Goethe’s prodigious sorrow +and solemnity seemed to have been transformed automatically +into music.</p> + +<p>When, in the second half, the motif of human voices was taken +over, when these voices pealed forth first singly, one by one, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>from the surging sea of tones, and then gathered with ever-increasing +avidity, longing, and candour into the great chorus, one +had the feeling that without this liberation they would have been +stifled in the darkness.</p> + +<p>The effect of the pianissimo moaning of the basses before the +soprano set in was overwhelming: it was like the vulture which, +resting with easy wing on the dark morning cloud, spies around +for booty. So was the song meant to be. The trombone solo was +a shout of victory: it imparted new life to the sunken orchestra.</p> + +<p>Daniel had infinite trouble in making all this wealth of symbolic +art clear through song, word, and gesture at the same time +that his music was being played.</p> + +<p>The work abounded in blends and half tones which stamped it +as a child of its age, and still more of ages to come, despite the +compact rigidity of its architecture. There was no bared sweetness +in it; it was as rough as the bark of a tree; it was as rough +as anything that is created with the assurance of inner durability.</p> + +<p>Its rhythm was uniform, regular; it provided only for crescendos. +There was nothing of the seductive, nothing of the waltz-fever +in it. It was in no way cheap; it did not flatter slothful ears. +It had no languishing motifs; it was all substance and exterior. +The melody was concealed like a hard kernel in a thick shell; +and not merely concealed: it was divided, and then the divisions +were themselves divided. It was condensed, compressed, bound, +and at the same time subterranean. It was created to rise from +its depths, rejoice, and overwhelm: “But clothe the lonely one in +thy clouds of gold! Enshroud with ivy until the roses bloom +again, oh Love, the dampened hair of thy poet!”</p> + +<p>The work was written a quarter of a century before its time. +It was out of touch with the nerves of its contemporary environment. +It could not hope to count upon a prophet or an interpreter. +It could not be carried further by the benevolence of +congenial champions. It bore the marks of mortal neglect. It was +like a bird from the tropics left to die on the icy coasts of +Greenland.</p> + +<p>But for those who are near in heart there is a fluid in the air +that intercedes for the higher truth. M. Rivière and Eleanore +scarcely breathed during the recital. Eleanore’s big eyes were still: +they opened and closed slowly. When Daniel finished, he dried +his hot brow with his handkerchief, and then his arms fell limp +at his sides. He felt as if the brilliancy of Eleanore’s eyes had +reached the tips of his hair and had electrified it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p><p>“Enshroud with ivy, until the roses bloom again, oh Love, the +dampened hair of thy poet!”</p> + +<p>“It is impossible to get an idea of it,” murmured Daniel; “the +piano is like an instrument of torture.”</p> + +<p>They were struck by peculiar sounds coming from the living +room. They went in, and found Gertrude pale as death, her +hands folded across her bosom, sitting on the sofa. She was talking +to herself, partly as if in a dream, partly as if she were praying. +It was impossible to understand what she was saying. She +seemed distant, estranged.</p> + +<p>Eleanore hastened to her; Daniel looked at her with a scowl. +Just then the bell rang, and M. Rivière went out. There was the +sound of a man’s voice; it was disagreeable. The door was opened +and—Herr Carovius entered.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Herr Carovius bowed in all directions. He wore tan shoes with +brass buckles, black trousers, a shiny green coat, and a white +cravat that could no longer be called clean. He laid his slouch +hat on a chair, and said he would like to beg their pardon if he +had called at an inopportune hour. He had come, he said, to thank +his dear young master for the aforementioned invitation.</p> + +<p>“It seems—yes, it seems,” he added, with a droll blinking of +his eyes, “that I have in all innocence interrupted the performance +of a most interesting production. There is a crowd of people +gathered out in front of the house, and I could not forego the +pleasure of listening. I hope you will not stop playing the sacrificial +festival on my account. What was it, <i>maestro</i>? It wasn’t the +symphony, was it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was the symphony,” replied Daniel, who was so amazed +at the appearance and conduct of the man that he was really +courteous.</p> + +<p>“It cost me money to be sure—believe it or not. I had to get +an afternoon coat that would do for a Count—latest cut, velvet +collar, tails that reached down to my calves. Aristocratic, very!” +He stared over Gertrude’s head into the corner, and tittered for +at least a half a minute.</p> + +<p>Nobody said a word. Everybody was dumb, astounded.</p> + +<p>“Good lord, social obligations,” continued Herr Carovius, “but +after all you can’t afford to be a backwoodsman. Music is supposed +to ennoble a man even externally. By the way, there is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +rumour afloat that it is a symphony with chorus. How did you +happen upon the idea? The laurels of the Ninth will not let you +sleep? I would have thought that you didn’t give a damn about +classical models. Everybody is so taken up now with musical lullabies, +<i>wage-la-wei-a</i>, that kind of stuff, you know. But then I +suppose that is only a transition stage, as the fox said when he was +being skinned.”</p> + +<p>He took off his nose glasses, polished them very hastily, fumbled +for a while with his cord, and then put them on again. Having +gained time in this way, he began to expatiate on the decadence +of the arts, asked Daniel whether he had ever heard anything +about a certain Hugo Wolf who was being much talked about and +who was sitting in darkest Austria turning out songs like a Hottentot, +made a number of derogatory remarks about a fountain +that was being erected in the city, said that a company of dancers +had just appeared at the Cultural Club in a repertory of grotesque +pantomimes, remarked that as he was coming over he +learned that there was an institution in the city that loaned potato +sacks, and that there had just been a fearful fire in Constantinople.</p> + +<p>Thereupon he looked first at Daniel, then at M. Rivière, took +the snarls of the one and the embarrassment of the other to be +encouraging signs for the continuation of his gossip, readjusted his +glasses, and sneezed. Then he smoothed out the already remarkably +smooth hairs he had left on his head, rubbed his hands as +if he were beginning to feel quite at home, and tittered when +there was any sign of a stoppage in his asinine eloquence.</p> + +<p>At times he would cast a stealthy glance at Gertrude, who +would draw back somewhat as the arm of a thief who feels he is +being watched. Eleanore did not seem to be present so far as he +was concerned: he did not see her. Finally she got up. She was +tortured by the interruption of what she had just experienced from +the music and by his flat, stale, and unprofitable remarks. Then +he got up too, looked at his watch as if he were frightened, asked +if he might repeat his visit at another time, took leave of Gertrude +with a silly old-fashioned bow, from Daniel with a confidential +handshake, and from the Frenchman with uncertain courtesy. +Eleanore he again entirely overlooked.</p> + +<p>Out in the hall he stopped, nodded several times, and said with +an almost insane grin, speaking into the empty air before him: +“<i>Auf Wiedersehen</i>, fair one! <i>Auf Wiedersehen</i>, fairest of all! +Good-bye, my angel! Forget me not!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p><p>In the room Eleanore whispered in a heavy, anxious tone: +“What was that? What was that?”</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Philippina Schimmelweis came to help Eleanore with the moving. +At first Eleanore was quite surprised; then she became accustomed +to having her around and found her most helpful. Jordan +took no interest in anything that was going on. The last of all +his hope seemed to be shattered by the fact that he was to move.</p> + +<p>Philippina gradually fell into the habit of coming every day +and working for a few hours either for Eleanore or for Gertrude, +so long as the latter had anything to do in the kitchen. They +became used to seeing her, and put up with her. She tried to +make as little noise as possible; she had the mien of a person who +is filling an important but unappreciated office.</p> + +<p>She made a study of the house; she knew the rooms by heart. +She preferred to come along toward sunset or a little later. One +day she told Eleanore she had seen a mysterious-looking person +out on the hall steps. Eleanore took a candle and went out, but +she could not see any one. Philippina insisted nevertheless that +she had seen a man in a green doublet, and that he had made a +face at her.</p> + +<p>She was particularly attracted by the rooms in the attic. She +told the neighbours that there was an owl up there. As a result +of this the children of that section began to fear the entire +house, while the chancellor’s wife, who lived on the ground floor, +became so nervous that she gave up her apartment.</p> + +<p>There was no outside door or entrance hall of any kind to +Jordan’s new quarters. You went direct from the stairway into +the room where Eleanore worked and slept. Adjoining this was +her father’s room. People still called him the Inspector, although +he no longer had such a position.</p> + +<p>He sat in his narrow, cramped room the whole day. One wall +was out of plumb. The windows he kept closed. When Eleanore +brought him his breakfast or called him to luncheon, which she +had cooked in the tiny box of a kitchen and then served in her own +little room, he was invariably sitting at the table before a stack +of papers, mostly old bills and letters. The arrangement of these +he never changed.</p> + +<p>Once she entered his room without knocking. He sprang up, +closed a drawer as quickly as he could, locked it, put the key in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>his pocket, and tried to smile in an innocent way. Eleanore’s heart +almost stopped beating.</p> + +<p>He never went out until it was dark, and on his return he could +be seen carrying a package under his arm. This he took with +him to his room.</p> + +<p>At first Eleanore was always uneasy when she had to leave. +She requested Philippina to be very careful and see to it that no +stranger entered the house. Philippina had a box full of ribbons +in Eleanore’s cabinet. She set a chair against the door leading +into Jordan’s room; and when her hands were tired from rummaging +around in the ribbons and her eyes weary from looking at +all the flashy colours, she pressed her ear to the door to see if she +could find out what the old man was doing.</p> + +<p>At times she heard him talking. It seemed as if he were talking +with some one. His voice had an exhortatory but tender tone +in it. Philippina trembled with fear. Once she even pressed +the latch; she wanted to open the door as quietly as possible, so +that she might peep in and see what was really going on. But +to her vexation, the door was bolted on the other side.</p> + +<p>For Gertrude she did small jobs and ran little errands: she +would go to the baker or the grocer for her. Gertrude became +less and less active; it was exceedingly difficult for her to climb +the stairs. Philippina took the place of a maid. The only kind of +work she refused to do was work that would soil her clothes. +Gertrude’s shyness irritated her; one day she said in a snappy tone: +“You are pretty proud, ain’t you? You don’t like me, do you?” +Gertrude looked at her in amazement, and made no reply; she did +not know what to say.</p> + +<p>Whenever Philippina heard Daniel coming, she hid herself. +But if he chanced to catch sight of her, he merely shrugged his +shoulders at the “frame,” as he contemptuously called her. It +seemed to him that it would be neither wise nor safe to mistreat +her. He felt that it was the better part of valour to look with +favour on her inexplicable diligence, and let it go at that.</p> + +<p>Once he even so completely overcame himself that he gave her +his hand; but he drew it back immediately: he felt that he had +never touched anything so slimy in his life; he thought he had +taken hold of a frog. Philippina acted as if she had not noticed +what he had done. But scarcely had he gone into his room, when +she turned to Gertrude with a diabolic glimmer in her eyes, and, +making full use of her vulgar voice, said: “Whew! Daniel’s kind, +ain’t he? No wonder people can’t stand him!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p><p>When she saw that Gertrude knit her brow at this exclamation, +she wheeled about on the heels of her clumsy shoes, and screamed +as if the devil were after her: “Oi, oi, Gertrude, Gertrude, oi, oi, +the meat’s burning! The meat’s burning.”</p> + +<p>It was a false alarm. The meat was sizzling quite peacefully +in the pan.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>Late in the afternoon of a stormy day in June Daniel came +home from the last rehearsal of the “Harzreise,” tired and out of +humour. The rehearsals had been held in a small room in Weyrauth’s +Garden. He had quarrelled with all the musicians and +with all the singers, male and female.</p> + +<p>As he reached Ægydius Place a shudder suddenly ran through +his body. He was forced to cover his eyes with his hands and +stand still for a moment; he thought he would die from longing +for a precious virginal possession which he had been so foolish as +to trifle away.</p> + +<p>He went up the steps, passed by his own apartment, and +climbed on up to the apartment of Inspector Jordan and his +daughter Eleanore.</p> + +<p>His eye fell on the board partition surrounding the stove and +the copper cooking utensils that hung on the wall. There sat +Eleanore, her arm resting on the window sill, her head on her +hand: she was meditating—meditating and gaining new strength as +she did so. Her face was turned toward the steep fall of a roof, +the century-old frame-work, grey walls, darkened window panes +and dilapidated wooden galleries, above which lay stillness and +a rectangular patch of sky that was then covered with clouds.</p> + +<p>“Good evening,” said Daniel, as he stepped out of the darkness +into the dimly lighted room. “What are you doing, Eleanore, +what are you thinking about?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore shuddered: “Ah, is it you, Daniel? You show yourself +after a long while? And ask what I am thinking about? +What curiosity! Do you want to come into my room?”</p> + +<p>“No, no, sit perfectly still,” he replied, and prevented her from +getting up by touching her on the shoulder. “Is your father at +home?”</p> + +<p>She nodded. He drew a narrow bench from which he had +removed the coffee mill and a strainer up to the serving table, and +sat down as far as possible from Eleanore, though even so they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>were as close together as if they were sitting opposite each other +in a cab.</p> + +<p>“How are you making out?” she asked with embarrassment, and +without the remotest display of warmth.</p> + +<p>“You know that I am beating a perforated drum, Eleanore.” +After a pause he added: “But whatever people may do or fail +to do, between us two there must be a clear understanding: Are +you going to Paris?”</p> + +<p>She dropped her head in silence. “Well, I could go; there +is nothing to prevent me,” she said, softly and with hesitation. +“But you see how it is. I am no longer as I used to be. Formerly +I could scarcely picture the happiness I would derive from having +some one there in whom I could confide and who would be interested +in me. I would not have hesitated for a moment. But +now? If I go, what becomes clear from my going? And if I +stay here, what will be clear? I have already told you, Daniel, +that I don’t understand you. How terrible it is to have to say +that! What do you want now? How is all this going to come +out?”</p> + +<p>“Eleanore, do you recall Benda’s last letter? You yourself +brought it to me, and after that I was a different person. He +wrote to me in that letter just as if he had never heard of Gertrude, +and said that I should not pass you by. He wrote that we two +were destined for each other, and neither for any one else in the +world. Of course you recall how I acted after reading the letter. +And even before that: Do you remember the day of the wedding +when you put the myrtle wreath on? Why, I knew then that I +had lost everything, that my real treasure had vanished. And even +before that: Do you recall that I found that Fräulein Sylvia von +Erfft had your complexion, your figure, your hair, and your hands? +And even before that: When you went walking with Benda in the +woods, I walked along behind, and took so much pleasure in watching +you walk, but I didn’t know it. And when you came into the +room there in the Long Row, and caressed the mask and sat down +at the piano and leaned your head against the wood, don’t you +recall how indispensable you were to me, to my soul? The only +trouble is, I didn’t know it; I didn’t know it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there is nothing to be done about all that: that is a +by-gone story,” said Eleanore, holding her breath, while a blush +of emotion flitted across her face only to give way to a terrible +paleness.</p> + +<p>“Do you believe that I am a person to be content with what is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>past? Every one, Eleanore, owes himself his share of happiness, +and he can get it if he simply makes up his mind to it. It is +not until he has neglected it, abandoned it, and passed it by, that +his fate makes a slave out of him.”</p> + +<p>“That is just what I do not understand,” said Eleanore, and +looked into his face with a more cheerful sense of freedom. “It +wounds my heart to see you waging a losing battle against self-deception +and ugly defiance. We two cannot think of committing +a base deed, Daniel. It is impossible, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Daniel, plainly excited, bent over nearer to her: “Do you know +where I am standing?” he asked, while the blue veins in his +temples swelled and hammered: “Well, I’ll tell you. I am standing +on a marble slab above an abyss. To the right and left of this +abyss are nothing but blood-thirsty wolves. There is no choice +left to me except either to leap down into the abyss, or to allow +myself to be torn to pieces by the wolves. When such a being +as you comes gliding along through the air, a winged creature like +you, that can rescue me and pull me up after it, is there any ground +for doubt as to what should be done?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore folded her arms across her bosom, and half closed her +eyes: “Ah no, Daniel,” she said in a kindly way, “you are exaggerating, +really. You see everything too white and too black: A +winged creature, I? Where, pray, are my wings? And wolves? +All these silly little people—wolves? Oh no, Daniel. And +blood-thirsty? Listen, Daniel, that is going quite too far; don’t +you think so yourself?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t crush my feelings, Eleanore!” cried Daniel, in a suppressed +tone and with passionate fierceness: “Don’t crush my feelings, +for they are all I have left. You are not capable of thinking +as you have just been talking, you cannot think that low, you are +not capable of such languid, ordinary feelings. The over-tone! +The over-tone! Think a little! Can’t you see them gritting +their teeth at me? Can’t you hear them howling day and night? +Can you possibly say that they are kind or compassionate? Or are +they willing to be good and great when one comes? Do you +have confidence in a single one of them? Have they not even +dragged your good name into the mire? Are any of the things +that are sacred to you and to me sacred to them? Can they be +moved the one-thousandth part of an inch by your distress or my +distress or the distress of any human being? Is not the slime of +slander thick upon their tongues? Is not your smile a thorn in +their flesh? Do they not envy me the little I have and for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>which I have flayed myself? Don’t they envy me my music, which +they do not understand, and which they hate because they do +not understand it? Would it not fill them with joy if I had +to make my living beating stones on the public highway or cleaning +out sewers? Do they find it possible to pardon me for my life +and the things that make up my life? And yet you say there are +no wolves? That they are not wolves? Tell me that you are +afraid of them, that you do not wish to turn them against yourself; +but don’t tell me that you are committing an evil act when +I call you to me, you with your wings, and you come.”</p> + +<p>His arms were stretched out toward her on the top of the kitchen +table; they were trembling to the very tips of his fingers.</p> + +<p>“The evil deed, Daniel,” whispered Eleanore, “hasn’t anything +to do with these people; it was committed against the higher law +of morals, against our feeling of right usage and established +honour....”</p> + +<p>“False,” he hissed, “false! They have made you believe that. +They have preached that to you for centuries and centuries; your +mother, your grand-mother, your great-grand-mother, they have all +been telling you that. It is false; it is a lie; it is all a lie. It is +with this very lie that they support their power and protect their +organisation. It is truth on the contrary that fills my heart, fills +it with joy, and helps me along. What nature offers, obedience +to nature, that is truth. Truth lies in your thoughts, in your feelings, +girl, in your choked feelings, in your blood, in the ‘yes’ you +speak in your dreams. Of course I know that they need their lie, +for they must be organised, the wolves; they must go in packs, +otherwise they are impotent. But I have only my truth, only my +truth as I stand on the marble slab above the abyss.”</p> + +<p>“Your truth, Daniel,” said Eleanore, “<i>your</i> truth. But your +truth is not my truth.”</p> + +<p>“No, Eleanore? No? Not yours? What then is the use of +my talking with you? And even if everything else were falsehood +and error, I am as convinced as I can be that my truth is also +your truth.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t stand out against the whole world,” said Eleanore +in anguish, “you are after all in the world yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will take my stand against the whole world,” he said, +“that is precisely what I have made up my mind to do. I will +pay them back in their own coin. Just as they have all stood +against me, just so will I stand against them. I am no compromiser, +no treaty-maker, no haggler, no beggar. I live according to my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>own law. I <i>must</i>, where other people merely <i>should</i> or <i>may</i>, or +<i>may not</i>. Whoever does not comprehend that has nothing in common, +one way or the other, with me.”</p> + +<p>She was terrified at the presumptuousness of his words; and yet +there was a feeling in her of joy and pride: she felt a desire to +be for him, to be with him. If he was fighting against the very +power that would in the end overcome him, he was doing it for +her sake. She did not feel, therefore, that she had the right to +withdraw from him. The thing about it all that gave her a +wonderful feeling of relief, and at the same time made her morally +flabby and carried her away, was the passion of his will and the +undaunted assurance of his feelings.</p> + +<p>But their eyes chanced to meet; and in the eyes of each there +was the name of Gertrude.</p> + +<p>Gertrude stood between them in living form. Everything they +had said had proceeded from her and returned to her. That +Daniel was not thinking of annulling his marriage, that he could +not think of it, Eleanore knew. A child was expected; who could +reject the mother under these circumstances? How would it be +possible, poor as they were, to expose both mother and child to the +inevitable misery that would follow annulment of the marriage? +Daniel could not do this, and Eleanore knew it.</p> + +<p>But she also knew, for she knew her sister, that separation from +Daniel would mean her death. She knew too that Daniel considered +his marriage to Gertrude as indissoluble, not only because +of his knowledge of her character, but because there was in his +life with Gertrude something that is quite independent of passions, +views, and decisions, something that binds even in hate and binds +even more firmly in despair.</p> + +<p>Eleanore knew all this. She knew that Daniel knew it. And +if she drew the only conclusion that could be drawn from his +argument and his state of mind, she knew what he demanded of +her.</p> + +<p>He was demanding that she give herself up to him. Of this +there could be not a shred of doubt.</p> + +<p>But how? Secretly? Could that produce happiness? With +the understanding of Gertrude? Could Gertrude endure such a +thought, even if she were as magnanimous as a saint? Where was +the way that could be followed? Where was there an angle from +which embarrassment, anxiety, and ruin were not ready to leap +forth without warning?</p> + +<p>She bowed her head, and covered it with her hands. She sat +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>in this position for a long while. Darkness settled down over +the roofs of the houses.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she got up, reached him her hand, smiled with tears +in her eyes, and said with a last attempt to escape the horrible +consequences, “Brüderlein.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>...” She spoke the word in a tone +of longing fervour and half-humorous appealing.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> “Little brother.”</p></div> + +<p>He shook his head sadly, but took her hand and held it tenderly +between his.</p> + +<p>Her face became clouded; it was like a landscape at the coming +of night. Her eyes, turned to one side, saw the trees of a great +garden, an ugly old woman sitting by a hedge, and two little +girls who looked into the setting sun with fear in their hearts.</p> + +<p>There was a noise; she and Daniel were startled. In the doorway +stood Philippina Schimmelweis. Her eyes glistened like the +skin of a reptile that has just crept up from out of the bog.</p> + +<p>Daniel went down to his apartment.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>For nine years the rococo hall in the Auffenberg home had been +closed to festive celebrations of every kind. It took a long, tedious +exchange of letters between the secretary of the Baron living in +Rome and the secretary of the Baroness to get the permission of the +former to use the hall.</p> + +<p>The indignation at Nothafft’s work was general. The members +of the social set could hardly contain themselves, while the +amateurs and specially invited guests were likewise but little edified. +The chief diversion of the evening, in fact, was to see the composer +himself conduct. At the sight of the jumping and sprawling +fellow, Herr Zöllner, councillor of the consistory, almost burst +with laughter.</p> + +<p>Old Count Schlemm-Nottheim, who not only had a liking for +pornographic literature but was also known to drink a quarter of a +litre of Dr. Rosa’s balsam of life every afternoon, declared that +the ensemble playing of all the instruments represented by the +show-booths at the annual fair was an actual musical revelation in +comparison with this Dutch concert of rogues’ marches. Judge +Braun of the Supreme Court gave it as his candid opinion that +there was evidently a conspiracy against good taste.</p> + +<p>Remarks of this kind were, of course, made behind screens and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>in the corners. In order not to offend the Baroness, there was a +goodly measure of seemingly cordial applause. The guests and +artists then assembled around a huge table arranged in the shape +of a horseshoe.</p> + +<p>Count Schlemm-Nottheim was the table companion of the +Baroness; he had her tell him who the various personages from the +world of art were. He asked who was the woman of such interesting +melancholy sitting next to Major Bellmann. He was told +that that was the wife of the composer. His wife? She is not +at all bad; life with her would be rather worth while. And who +was the woman between old Herold and the Frenchman? A +charming little creature: she had eyes like the Lake of Liguria and +hands like a princess. That was the sister of the composer’s wife. +Sister? You don’t tell me! A jolly fine family; worth the support +of any man.</p> + +<p>Toasts were drunk. Herr Ehrenreich, the wholesale merchant, +drank to the health of the creator of the “Harzreise”; the Count +to the ladies present.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius created a sensation. He sat with the members +of the “Liedertafel”; they had sung in the chorus; and they were +ashamed of him, for he conducted himself in a most unseemly +fashion.</p> + +<p>He had somehow managed to get hold of a glove Eleanore had +lost, and possibly it was this that made him so convivial. He +picked up an almond shell from the serving tray, and threw it at +Fräulein Varini. He let his leery, lascivious eyes roam about over +the cut glass and the decorations of the hall, and never once grew +tired of praising the wealth and splendour of the house. He +acted as though he were quite at home. He raised his wine glass, +and declared that he was charmed by the flavour and colour of the +costly, precious juice from the grape: he tried to give the impression +that he knew the Auffenberg wine cellar from years of intimate +association with it.</p> + +<p>Then it happened that through a hasty, awkward movement, he +upset his plate; a rivulet of rich brown gravy ran down over his +white vest. He became silent; he retired within himself. He +dipped his napkin in the water, and rubbed and rubbed. The +waiters tittered. He buttoned up his coat, and looked like a +show window in the dead of night.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the waiters were also given the privilege of feasting +on another rare social phenomenon. They noticed that Kapellmeister +Nothafft was sitting at the table in his stocking feet. His +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>patent leather shoes had hurt him so much that he made short +work of it and took them off during the dinner. There they +stood without master or servant, one at the right, the other at the +left of his disencumbered feet. Whenever the waiters passed by, +they would cast one furtive but profitable glance under the table, +and bite their lips to keep from bursting out in laughter.</p> + +<p>This rude offence to social dignity was not unknown to the +other dinner guests. They whispered, smiled, shrugged their +shoulders, and shook their heads. Daniel made no effort to conceal +his bootlessness when the guests rose to leave the table; without +giving the astonishment of his companions a single thought, he +once more drew the patent leather torturers on to his extremities. +But he had made a mistake: he had gambled and lost.</p> + +<p>The news of the extraordinary event was fully exploited on the +following day. It was carried from house to house, accumulated +momentous charm in its course, passed from the regions of the high +to those of the less high and quite low, and provoked storms of +laughter everywhere. No one had anything to say about the +symphony; everybody was fully informed concerning the patent +leather episode.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>On the way home Daniel walked with Eleanore. Gertrude +followed at some distance with M. Rivière; she could not walk +rapidly.</p> + +<p>“How did you find it, Eleanore? Didn’t you have the feeling +that you were at a feast of corpses?”</p> + +<p>“Dear,” she murmured; they walked on.</p> + +<p>After they had gone along for some time in perfect silence, +they came to a narrow gateway. Eleanore suddenly felt that she +could no longer endure Daniel’s mute questioning. She pulled +her silk veil closer to her cheeks, and said: “Give me time! Don’t +hurry me! Please give me time!”</p> + +<p>“If I hadn’t given you time, my dear girl, I should not have +deserved this moment,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“I cannot, I cannot,” she said, with a sigh of despair. She had +only one hope, one ray of hope left, and her whole soul was fixed +on that. But she was obliged to act in silence.</p> + +<p>Standing in the living room with Gertrude, Daniel’s eye fell +on the mask of Zingarella; it had been decorated with rose twigs. +Under the green young leaves fresh buds shone forth; they hung +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>around the white stucco of the mask like so many little red lanterns. +“Who did that?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Eleanore was here in the afternoon; she did it,” replied +Gertrude.</p> + +<p>His burning eyes were riveted on the mask, when Gertrude +stepped up to him, threw her arms around him, and in the fulness +of her feelings exclaimed: “Daniel, your work was wonderful, +wonderful!”</p> + +<p>“So? Did you like it? I am glad to hear it,” he said, in a +tone of dry conventionality.</p> + +<p>“The people don’t grasp it,” she said gently, and then added +with a blush: “But I understand it; I understand it, for it belongs +to me.”</p> + +<p>The following day he laid the score of the “Harzreise” together +with the words in a big old chest, and locked it. It was like a +funeral.</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>In the dark, winding alleys behind the city wall stand little +houses with large numbers and coloured lanterns. They are filled +with a sweetish, foul odour, and have been laboriously built up +out of dilapidated lumber-rooms. From the cracks in the closed +blinds come forth, night after night, the sounds of shrill laughter. +Those who enter are received by half-nude monsters, and are made +to sit down on monstrous chairs and sofas covered with red +plush.</p> + +<p>The citizen calls these places dens of vice. Between Friday +and Sunday he thinks with lustful horror of the inhabitants with +their bloated or emaciated bodies and the sad or intoxicated stare +of their eyes.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius wended his way to this quarter of the city. +Because it was only a shadow which he embraced in hours when +his inflamed imagination, vitiated by all the poisons of the earth, +conjured up a human body, he was angry; now he went there, and +bought himself a real human body.</p> + +<p>After he had been in a half a dozen of these houses, had been +jubilantly greeted, and then thrown out to the accompaniment of +bawdy abuse, he at last found what he had been looking for: a +creature whose cunning had not entirely been lost, who still had +the features of a daughter of man, and whose figure and character +still had the power to call up a memory, provided one were firmly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>decided to see what one wished to see and to forget what one +wished to forget.</p> + +<p>Her name was Lena, charming reminder of a desired reality! +He went with her as she left the circle of her companions, and +followed her into the wretched hole between winding stairs and +attic rooms. He rattled the coins in his pocket, and gave his +orders. The nymph had to put on a street dress, set a modest hat +on her head, and draw a veil over her rouged face. Thereupon he +went up to her, spoke to her courteously, and kissed her hand. +He had never in his life acted in so polite and chivalric a fashion +in the presence of a woman.</p> + +<p>The prostitute was frightened; she ran away. She had to be +given instructions; these were given her by the madame of the +house; for Herr Carovius was rattling the coins in his pocket. +“You will have to be patient and indulgent; we are not prepared +for such refined guests here.”</p> + +<p>He returned. Lena had been told what to do. She soon fell +into her rôle.</p> + +<p>“To be frank,” he said to Lena, “I am inexperienced in the +arts of love. I am too proud to kowtow to the berobed and +bodiced idol. A woman is a woman, and a man is a man. They +delude themselves and each other, or try to, into believing that +each woman is a special person, and each man a man to himself. +Idiocy!”</p> + +<p>The prostitute grinned.</p> + +<p>He walked back and forth; the room was just large enough to +allow him to take three steps. He recalled the expression on +Eleanore’s face during the performance of the symphony; his +greedy eyes had rested on her all the while. He became enraged: +“You don’t imagine that progress can be made by such amateurish +efforts?” he said with a roar. “It is all hocus-pocus. There is as +a matter of fact no such thing as progress in art, any more than +there is progress in the course of the stars. Listen!”</p> + +<p>He bellowed forth the first motif from the “Sonata quasi una +fantasia” of Mozart: “Listen to this: Da—dada—da—daddaa! Is +it possible to progress beyond that? Don’t let them make a fool +of you, my angel. Be honest with yourself. He has hypnotised +you. He has turned your unsuspecting heart upside down. Look +at me! Are you afraid of me? I will do all in my power for +you. Give me your hand. Speak to me!”</p> + +<p>The prostitute was obliged to stretch out her arms. He sat +down beside her with a solemn ceremoniousness. Then he removed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>the pin from her hat, and laid the hat tenderly to one side. She +had to lean her head on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>With that he fell into a dreamy meditation.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>Philippina came up to Gertrude in the living room. Daniel +was not at home. Philippina was humming the latest street song, +the refrain of which ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<i><span class="i0">Drah’ di, Madel, drah’ di,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morgen kommt der Mahdi.<br /></span></i> +</div></div> + +<p>“There it is,” said Philippina, and threw a ball of yarn on +the table.</p> + +<p>Gertrude had yielded to the girl’s importunities, and was addressing +her now with the familiar “thou” and allowing Philippina +to do the same in speaking to her. “We are after all relatives, +you know, Gertrude,” said Philippina.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was afraid of Philippina; but she had thus far found +no means of defending herself against her exaggerated eagerness +to help her with the housework. And she felt in Philippina’s +presence what she felt in the presence of no one else—a sense of +shame at her own condition.</p> + +<p>Philippina, in fact, saw something indecent in Gertrude’s pregnancy; +when she talked to her she always held her head up and +looked into space; her action was quite conspicuous.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but ain’t people impudent,” Philippina began, after she +had taken a loutish position on a chair. “The clerk over in the +store asked me whether there wasn’t something up between Daniel +and Eleanore. What d’ye think of that? Fresh, yes? You bet +I give him all that was coming to him!”</p> + +<p>The needle in Gertrude’s fingers stopped moving. It was not +the first time that Philippina had made such insinuating remarks. +To-day she would come up to Gertrude, and whisper to her that +Daniel was upstairs with Eleanore; yesterday she had said in a +tone of affected sympathy that Eleanore looked so run down. +Then she gave a detailed report of what this person and that person +had said; then she turned into a champion of good morals and +gentle manners, and remarked that you ought not offend people.</p> + +<p>Her every third word was “people.” She said she knew what +a faultless character Eleanore had and how Daniel loved his wife, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>but people! And after all you couldn’t scratch everybody’s eyes +out who annoyed you with dubious questions; if you did, there +would soon be very few eyes left.</p> + +<p>Philippina’s bangs had acquired an unusual length; they covered +her whole forehead down to her eyelashes. The glances she cast +at Gertrude had on this account something especially malevolent +about them. “She is not so certain of herself and her family +after all,” thought Philippina, and made a lewd gesture with her +legs as she sprawled on the chair.</p> + +<p>“You know, I think Daniel ought to be more cautious,” she +said with her rasping voice. “This being together all alone for +hours at a time ain’t going to do no good; no good at all, I say. +And the two are always running after each other; if it’s not her, +it’s him. If you happen to take ’em by surprise, they jump like +criminals. It’s been going on this way for six weeks, day after +day. Do you think that’s right? You don’t need to put up with +it, Gertrude,” she said in conclusion, making a sad attempt to look +coquettish. Then she cast her eyes to the floor, and looked as +innocent as a child.</p> + +<p>Gertrude’s heart grew cold. Her confidence in Daniel was +unfaltering, but the venomous remarks made to her left her without +peace of mind or body; she could not think clearly. The very +fact that such things were being said about Daniel and Eleanore, +and that words failed her to stop them because from the very +beginning she had borne it all with the self-assurance that naturally +springs from contempt for gossip, only tended to make her grief +all the more bitter.</p> + +<p>How hollow any objection on her part would have sounded! +How fatuous and ineffective a rebuke from her would have been! +Could she muzzle these wicked, slanderous tongues by referring to +the peculiarities of Daniel’s nature? Could he be expected to go +to Philippina and give an account of himself? A contemptuous +smile came to her face when she pondered on such possibilities.</p> + +<p>And yet, why was she heart-sore? Was it because she was at +last beginning to realise that she was unloved?</p> + +<p>Involuntarily her eyes fell on the mask; it was still covered +with the withered rose twigs. She got up and removed them. +Her hand trembled as if she were committing some evil act.</p> + +<p>“Go home, Philippina, I don’t need you any more,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Oi, it is late, ain’t it? I must be going,” cried Philippina. +“Don’t worry, Gertrude,” she said by way of consolation. “And +don’t complain of me to your husband; he’ll git ugly if you do. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>If you say anything bad about me, there’s going to be trouble here, +I say. I am a perfect fool; people git out of my way, they do. +I’ve got a wicked mouth, I have; there’s no stopping it. Well, +good night.”</p> + +<p>She rubbed her hands down over her skirt, as if she were +trying to smooth out the wrinkles; there was an element of comic +caution in what she did.</p> + +<p>Out on the street she began to hum again:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<i><span class="i0">Drah’ di, Madel, drah’ di,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Morgen kommt der Mahdi.<br /></span></i> +</div></div> + + +<h3>XIV</h3> + +<p>When Daniel came home, it was late; but he sat down by +the lamp in his room and began to read Jean Paul’s “Titan.” In +the course of time his thoughts liberated themselves from the book +and went their own way. He got up, walked over to the piano, +raised the lid, and struck a chord; he listened with closed eyes: +it seemed that some one was calling him. It was a sultry night; +the stillness was painful.</p> + +<p>Again he struck the chord: bells from the lower world. They +rang up through the green, grey mists, each distinct and delicate. +Each tone sent forth its accompanying group like sparks from a +skyrocket. Those related by the ties of harmony joined; those +that were alien fell back and down. And up in the distant, inaccessible +heights there rang out with deceiving clarity, like the last +vision of earthly perfection, the melody of love, the melody of +Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Yet, some one was calling him; but from where? His wife? +The distant, gloomy, waiting one? He closed the piano; the echo +of the noise made thereby rebounded from the church wall +through his window.</p> + +<p>He put out the lamp, went into his bedroom, and undressed +by the light of the moon. The border of the curtain was embroidered +with heavy Vitruvian scrolls, the shadows of which were +reflected on the floor; they made jagged, goalless paths. All these +lines consisted after all of only one line.</p> + +<p>As he lay in bed his heart began to hammer. Suddenly he +knew, without looking, that Gertrude was not asleep; that she +was lying there staring at the ceiling just as he was. “Gertrude!” +he called.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p><p>From the slight rustling of the pillow he concluded that she +turned her face to him.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you hear me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Daniel.”</p> + +<p>“You must give me some advice; you must help me: help me and +your sister, otherwise I cannot say what may happen.”</p> + +<p>He stopped and listened, but there was not a stir: the stillness +was absolute.</p> + +<p>“It is at times possible to remain silent out of consideration +for others,” he continued, “but if the silence is maintained too +long, deception follows, and falsehood does not fail. But of what +use is candour if it thrusts a knife into the heart of another merely +in order to prepare an unblocked path for him who is candid? +What good does it do to confess if the other does not understand? +Two are already bleeding to death; shall the third meet with the +same fate merely in order to say that the matter was talked over? +The truth is, too many words have already been spoken, gruesome, +shameless words, at the sound of which the innocent night of +the senses vanishes. And must one bleed to death when it becomes +clearer and clearer that those are not eternal laws against which +war is being waged? How can I, dwarf that I am, attack eternal +laws? No, it is the frail, mutable customs of human society—? +Are you listening, Gertrude?”</p> + +<p>A “yes” that sounded like a note from a bird on a distant hill +greeted his ears: it was the answer to his question.</p> + +<p>“I have reached the point where silence is no longer thinkable: +there is no going any farther without you. I will neither exaggerate +nor have recourse to conventional phrases: I will not speak +of passion nor say that it could not be helped. It is just barely +possible that everything can be helped; that a man could always +have done differently if he had begun soon enough. But who +can ever tell what the future may bring? And passion? There +are many varieties of passion. It is the term that every swain, +washed and unwashed, uses in referring to his lusts. I had never +felt a passion for which a woman was guilty. But now one has +seized me with hide and hair. I had imagined that I could get +out of it and not bring you into it; impossible! I am burning +up with this passion, Gertrude, my whole being has been changed +by it; and if help is not given me, I will be ruined.”</p> + +<p>For a time there was a death-like stillness in the room; then +he continued.</p> + +<p>“But where is help to come from? It is strange; never until +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>this thing happened did I know what holds us two together, you +and me. Threads are being spun back and forth between us which +no hand may touch without withering, as it is written in the +Bible. There is a secret, a sacred secret, and if I offended it I +would feel as though I had strangled the unborn child in your +womb; and not only the child in your womb, but all the unborn +children in my own breast. There is in the life of each man a +woman in whom his own mother becomes young again, and to +whom he is bound by an unseen, indestructible, umbilical cord. +Face to face with this woman, his love, great or small, even his +hate, his indifference, becomes a phantom, just as everything that +we give out becomes a phantom compared with what is given to us. +And there is another woman who is my own creation, the fruit +of my dreams; she is my picture; I have created her from my +own blood; she lay in me just as the seed lay in the bud. And she +must be mine once she has been unveiled and made known to me, +or I will perish of loneliness and maddened longing.”</p> + +<p>The extravagant man pressed his face to the pillow and groaned: +“She must be mine, or I will never get up from this bed. But +if my way to her passes over you, Gertrude, I would have to cry +out with Faust: ‘Oh, had I never been born!’”</p> + +<p>Gertrude never uttered a sound. Minute after minute passed by. +Daniel, growing calmer, listened to see if he could not hear some +sound in the room. He heard nothing. The silence of his wife +began to fill him with anxiety; he rose up in bed. The moon +had gone down; it was pitch dark. He felt around for some +matches, and lighted a candle. Holding it in his hand, he bent +over Gertrude. She was as pale as death; she was looking at the +ceiling with wide-opened eyes.</p> + +<p>“Put the candle out, Daniel,” she whispered, “I have something +to say to you.”</p> + +<p>He put the candle out, and set it away.</p> + +<p>“Give me your hand, Daniel.”</p> + +<p>He felt for her hand; he took hold of it. It was ice cold; +he laid it on his breast.</p> + +<p>“May I stay with you, Daniel? Will you tolerate me in your +home?”</p> + +<p>“Tolerate? Gertrude, tolerate?” he asked, in a lifeless, toneless +voice. “You are my wife, in the presence of God my wife,” +he added, in deadened memory of the words of another.</p> + +<p>“I will become your mother made young again, as you wish.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Gertrude, but how?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p><p>“I will help you, you and Eleanore. The hearts of you two +shall not bleed to death because of me. Let me stay; that is +all I ask.”</p> + +<p>“That is more easily said than done, Gertrude.” He pressed +close up to her, took her in his arms, and sobbed with unexpected +violence.</p> + +<p>“It is hard; yes, it is hard. But your heart must not be allowed +to bleed on my account.”</p> + +<p>His head lay on her breast; he was seized with convulsions of +grief that would not let him go until break of day.</p> + +<p>Then all of a sudden the words came like a scream from +Gertrude’s lips: “I too am a creature.”</p> + +<p>He embraced her with warmth; and she murmured: “It is hard, +Daniel, but be of good cheer, be of good cheer.”</p> + + +<h3>XV</h3> + +<p>Pflaum, the apothecary, had begun to feel cramped in his house +near the Church of the Holy Ghost. He had looked at several +houses in the last week or two, and had finally decided on the +Schimmelweis property, which was now for sale. The apothecary +shop was to remain for the time being at its present location, and +Jason Philip was likewise to keep his store and his residence. Herr +Pflaum, being the landlord, intended to occupy the first and second +floors; he had a large family.</p> + +<p>One beautiful August afternoon, the two men—the apothecary +and the bookseller—left the office of Judge Rübsam, where they +had gone to sign the papers transferring the mortgage on the +Schimmelweis property. A cloudless sky, already tinted with the +blue of the descending sun, shone over the city.</p> + +<p>Herr Pflaum looked the picture of happiness: his troubles +seemed all to be behind him; he was manifestly facing the future +without fear and without care. Jason Philip Schimmelweis, on +the contrary, was plainly worried. He looked like a man who +was on the down grade. There was a great grease spot on his coat. +This spot told the story of domestic troubles; it revealed the fact +that Jason Philip had a wife who had been ill in bed for months, +and no physician in the city could diagnose her case; none knew +what she was suffering from. Jason Philip was angry at his wife, +at her illness, at the whole medical profession, and at the growing +confusion and disorder in his affairs.</p> + +<p>As they crossed Ægydius Place he cast a glance of unbounded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>hatred at the house in which Daniel and Gertrude lived. But +he did not say anything; he merely pinched his lips and hung his +head. In so doing he noticed the grease spot on his coat, and +emitted a vexed growl. “I will go along with you, Herr Apothecary, +and get a bottle of benzine,” he said, turning to his companion. +In his voice there was a noticeable trace of that reluctant +and unwilling humility which the poor display in the presence of +the rich.</p> + +<p>“Good, good,” he said, “come right along.” He blew the air +before him; for he was warm. “Greetings, greetings,” he exclaimed, +and waved his hand, “what are you doing here?”</p> + +<p>It was Herr Carovius to whom he spoke. Herr Carovius was +just then standing by the fountain of the Goose Man, rapt in +the sort of reflection that was peculiar to him.</p> + +<p>“At your service, gentlemen,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I see there are natives who study our native art,” remarked +the apothecary with an ironical smile, and stopped. Jason Philip +likewise stopped, and looked in a dazed, distraught way at the +bronze man with the two geese. Some boys were playing ball +close by the fountain. When they saw the three men looking at it, +they quit playing, came up, and looked at the fountain and the +men and grinned as if there were something new to be seen.</p> + +<p>“We have no idea what riches we possess,” said Herr Carovius.</p> + +<p>“Quite right, quite right,” nodded the apothecary.</p> + +<p>“I have just been trying to think what meaning this group may +have,” continued Herr Carovius, “there is undeniably a musical +motif in it.”</p> + +<p>“A musical motif?” murmured Jason Philip, to whom the very +term music conveyed the idea of something unpleasant.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but you have got to understand it,” said Herr Carovius +rather jauntily. With that he seized the ear of a small boy who +had ventured right up to his trousers’ legs; the boy screamed.</p> + +<p>After casting an angry look at the monument, Jason Philip broke +out in sudden and hearty laughter. “Now I understand,” he +stammered as he coughed, “you are a fox, a sly old dodger.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, gentlemen?” asked the apothecary, who had +become somewhat anxious, for he feared that this outburst of +hilarity was directed at him.</p> + +<p>“Why, don’t you see? Don’t you understand?” panted Jason +Philip with a scarlet red face, “the two geese—? The musical +motif and the two geese—? Isn’t it clear yet?”</p> + +<p>It was clear to Herr Carovius. He stuck the index finger of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>his right hand in the air, and broke out in a neighing sort of +laughter. Then he took the apothecary by the arm, and in the +pauses between salvos of laughter he bleated: “Magnificent!—Under +each arm a goose!—Priceless! Say, Herr Schimmelweis, +that was good. We will allow you one on that.”</p> + +<p>The connection was now clear to the apothecary. He slapped +himself on his hips and cried: “As sure as there is a devil, that’s +the best joke I ever heard in my life.”</p> + +<p>Jason Philip Schimmelweis again got control of himself. He +pressed his hands to his stomach and said breathlessly: “Who would +have thought that the Goose Man moves about among us in bodily +form?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, who would have thought it?” said Herr Carovius as if +conceding a point. “It is a capital shot, a real discovery. We +come to the simple conclusion: Goose Man! And we are capable +of drawing a conclusion, for there are three of us. According to +an old proverb, <i>Tres faciunt collegium.</i>”</p> + +<p>“And they,” stuttered Jason Philip, pointing to the group, as +tears of laughter trickled down over his pudgy cheeks, “they are +three, too. See, there are three of them!”</p> + +<p>“Right,” screamed Herr Carovius, “there are three of them, too. +It is all clear.”</p> + +<p>“Have a chew, gentlemen?” said the apothecary, taking his +tobacco pouch from his pocket.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Jason Philip, “that joke deserves a cigar.” The +remark was made between gulps of laughter.</p> + +<p>“I suggest that we christen the story with a flask of Salvator,” +said Herr Carovius.</p> + +<p>The other two agreed to the proposal. The <i>collegium</i> marched +across the square, stopped every now and then, broke out in fits of +insuppressible laughter, and then continued on their way to the inn +with parched throats.</p> + +<p>It may have been only an evening shadow, or it may have been a +rare inspiration that created the impression. But the Goose Man, +standing there in all his pride behind the iron railing, seemed to +follow them with his eyes, in which there were traces of sorrow +and astonishment. The boys playing ball had soon forgotten the +delectable episode.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span><a name="PHILIPPINA_STARTS_A_FIRE" id="PHILIPPINA_STARTS_A_FIRE"></a>PHILIPPINA STARTS A FIRE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">Daniel</span> and Eleanore had reached a stage of mutual silence; +it was not the first time, however, and it was as disagreeable now +as it had been then. They would meet on the steps, and pass each +other with a mere nod. If Eleanore came in to see Gertrude, +Daniel withdrew.</p> + +<p>Once Eleanore called when Gertrude was not at home. Daniel +was stubborn; nor could Eleanore manage to make a single rational +remark. He did not like her looks; he suspected her paleness +and outward, enforced cheerfulness. “It is an undignified state +of affairs, Eleanore,” he exclaimed, “we must make an end of it.”</p> + +<p>Make an end of it? Yes—but how? This was the thought that +came at once to Eleanore’s mind. Every day the chain that bound +her to him became stronger.</p> + +<p>Daniel was also tortured by the sight of Gertrude. He felt +that she was watching him and that she was worried about him. +More than that, the event was approaching that surrounded her +with an atmosphere of suffering and made forbearance obligatory. +Her features, though haggard and distorted, bore nevertheless an +expression of mysterious transfiguration.</p> + +<p>After Gertrude had noticed for some time that Daniel was being +estranged from his work and that he had lost interest in everything, +she decided to have a talk with Eleanore. She did it without +preparation or tenderness.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you see that you are ruining him?” she cried.</p> + +<p>“You want me to be ruined, do you?” asked Eleanore, in surprised +dismay. She had appreciated at once and without difficulty +the complete range of Gertrude’s renunciation.</p> + +<p>“What difference does it make about you?” replied Gertrude +harshly; “what are you getting excited about?”</p> + +<p>This question made Eleanore’s ideas of order and duty quake +and totter. She looked at her sister with incredulous eyes and +in perfect silence. It was not the happy, gentle Gertrude that had +spoken, but the Gertrude of months ago, the lonely, loveless +Gertrude.</p> + +<p>What difference does it make about you? Why are you getting +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>excited? That was equivalent to saying: Make short work of your +life, and don’t draw out the episode in his life any longer than +you have to.</p> + +<p>Eleanore took courage to carry out the plan she had had in mind +for a long while and in which she placed her last hope.</p> + +<p>One evening she went to Daniel and said: “I should like to go +with you to Eschenbach, Daniel, and visit your mother.”</p> + +<p>“Why do you wish to do that?” he asked in amazement. He +and his mother did not write to each other: that was due first of +all to their natures, and secondly to the condition in which each +was now living. But he knew that Eleanore received an occasional +letter from Eschenbach which she answered without consulting him. +This had never seemed strange to him until now.</p> + +<p>A few days later she repeated her wish; Daniel granted it. +They decided upon the following Sunday for the excursion.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>A warm, languid October sun shone over the land; the forests +presented a gorgeous array of autumnal foliage; the fields lay +stretched in barren rows; along the hills of Franconia floated clouds +that looked like down driven by the wind.</p> + +<p>They had taken the train as far as Triesdorf; from there they +went on to Merckendorf by stage coach. The rest of the distance +they walked. Daniel pointed to a flock of geese that were trotting +around on the shore of an abandoned pond, and said: “That is +our national bird; his cackle is our music. But it doesn’t sound +so bad.”</p> + +<p>A peasant woman passed by, and made the sign of the cross +before the picture of a saint: “It is strange that everything has +suddenly become Catholic,” said Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Daniel nodded, and replied that when his father moved to +Eschenbach a few other Protestant families were living there, all +of whom joined in Protestant worship. Later, he said, most of +them emigrated, leaving his mother as the only Protestant, so far +as he knew, in the neighbourhood. But, Daniel remarked in the +course of conversation, his mother had never had any unpleasant +experience on this account, and he himself had frequently gone to +church, primarily of course to hear the organ, though no one had +ever taken offence at this. “There is a totally different type of +people here,” he added, “people who lay greater stress on externals +than we do, and yet are more secretive.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p><p>Eleanore looked at the church tower whose Spanish-green roof +rose from the valley. After a long silence she said: “I wonder +whether it will be a boy or a girl, Gertrude’s baby? Oh, a girl, +of course. Some day it will be in the world, and will look at me +with eyes, with real eyes. How strange that a child of yours +should look at me!”</p> + +<p>“What is there strange about that? Many children are born, +many look at some one.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to call it?” asked Eleanore.</p> + +<p>“If it is blond and has blue eyes like yours, I am going to +call it Eva.”</p> + +<p>“Eva!” cried Eleanore, “no, that won’t do.” She herself had +chosen the name of Eva for the child of the maid at the Rüdigers’. +That he should now want to call Gertrude’s child by the same +name seemed so strange to her.</p> + +<p>“Why not Eva?” he asked. “There is something back of this +objection on your part. Women always have something up their +sleeve. Out with it! Why do you object to Eva?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore smiled, and shook her head. She would have liked +to make a clean confession to him, but she was not certain how he +would take it: she was afraid he would turn back, enraged at her +cunning. Once the child had been born and lay there before +him, it would captivate him, and she knew it.</p> + +<p>They had stopped and were looking out over the sunlit plains. +“How alone we are!” said Daniel.</p> + +<p>“Everything is easier here,” said Eleanore thoughtfully. “If +one could only forget where one comes from, it would be easy to +be happy.”</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>“I have been away for seven years,” said Daniel as they passed +through the village gate. Everything seemed so ridiculously small—the +Town Hall, the Church, the Market Place, and the Eschenbach +Fountain. He had also pictured the houses and streets to +himself as being cleaner and better kept. As he passed over the +three steps at the front gate, each one of which was bulging out +like a huge oyster shell, and entered the shop with its smell of +spices, the past dwindled to nothing. Marian was so happy she +could not speak. She reached one of her hands to Daniel, the +other to Eleanore. Her first question was about Gertrude.</p> + +<p>In the room sat a four-year-old child with blond hair and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>marvellous blue eyes. Its little face was of the most delicate beauty, +its body was delicately formed.</p> + +<p>“Who is the child? To whom does it belong?” asked Daniel.</p> + +<p>“It is your own child, Daniel,” said his mother.</p> + +<p>“My own child! Yes, for heaven’s sakes—!” He blushed, +turned pale, looked first at his mother, and then at Eleanore.</p> + +<p>“It is your own flesh and blood. Don’t you ever think of +Meta any more?”</p> + +<p>“Of Meta.... Oh, I see. And you, you adopted the child? +And you, Eleanore, knew all about this? And you, Mother, took +the child?” He sat down at the table, and covered his face with +his hands. “That was what Eleanore had in mind?” he murmured +timidly to himself. “And I presume that to make the story complete +the child’s name is Eva ...?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Eva,” whispered Eleanore, touched by the situation. “Go +to your father, Eva, and shake hands with him.”</p> + +<p>The child did as it had been told. Then Marian related to +her son how Eleanore had brought the child to Eschenbach, +and how Meta had married and gone to America with her husband.</p> + +<p>Every look, every movement on the part of Marian showed +how great her love for the child was: she guarded it as the apple +of her eye.</p> + +<p>The circle of wonderful events closed in around Daniel’s heart. +Where responsibility lay and where guilt, where will power ended +and fate began, Daniel could not say. To express gratitude would +be vulgar; to conceal his emotions was difficult. He was ashamed +of himself in the presence of both of the women. But when he +looked at the living creature, his shame lost all meaning. And +how exalted Eleanore appeared in his eyes just then! She seemed +to him equally amiable and worthy of respect, whether he regarded +her as an active or as a sentient, feeling woman. He almost +shuddered at the thought that she was so near him; that what she +had done had been done for him filled him with humility.</p> + +<p>The strangest of all, however, was little Eva herself. He +could not see enough of her; he was amazed at the trick nature +had played: a human being of the noblest mien and form had +been born of a gawky, uncouth servant girl. There was something +divinely graceful and airy about the child. She had well-formed +hands, delicate wrists, shapely ankles, and a clear, transparent +forehead, on which a network of bluish veins spread out in various +directions. Her laughter was the purest of music; and in her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>walk and gestures in general there was a rhythm which promised +much for her future poise and winsomeness.</p> + +<p>Daniel took Eleanore through the village and out to the old +town gate. It was the time of the annual fair; Eschenbach was +crowded. They returned on this account to the more quiet streets, +and finally entered the church. The sexton came up and admitted +Daniel to the choir. Daniel sat down at the organ; the sexton +pumped the bellows; Eleanore took a seat on one of the little +benches near the side wall.</p> + +<p>Daniel’s eyes became fixed; his fingers touched the keys with +supernatural power; he began to improvise. There were two +motifs following each other in close succession; both were in fifths; +they were united into one; they ran from the low to the high +registers, from Hell through the World to Heaven. A hymn +crowned the improvised composition.</p> + +<p>He stood with Eleanore for a long while in the stillness. The +songs echoed from the lofty arches. It seemed to both of them +that the blood of the one was flowing into the body of the other. +Incidents of the past faded from their memory; they seemed to +have completed a long journey; there was no voice to remind them +of their return; they were completely liberated from duties and +made immune from care.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Eleanore was to sleep with Marian and Eva; Daniel was to +have his old room. He showed it to Eleanore; they stepped to +the window and looked out. They saw Eva down in the yard +dancing back and forth barefooted on a wooden balustrade. She +kept her equilibrium by holding out her arms. The grace of +her movements was so fairy-like that Daniel and Eleanore smiled +at each other in astonishment.</p> + +<p>After dinner Daniel went out in front of the house; Marian +and Eleanore sat for a while at the window; the light of the lamp +shone behind them. Later they came out into the street and +joined Daniel. Marian, however, was uneasy on account of the +child. She said that Eva had been restless all day and might cry +for her. “Stay out just as long as you like; I will leave the door +open,” she said, and went back.</p> + +<p>Daniel and Eleanore returned to the fair. It was still early in +the evening, but the crowd had disappeared. They sauntered +around among the booths, and stopped to listen to the harangue +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>of a mountebank or to watch peasant boys shooting at figures of +various kinds and a glass ball that danced on a jet of water. There +was a sea of red and green lanterns; sky-rockets were hissing into +the air from the rampart; musicians were playing in the cafés, +while hilarious tipplers sang or hooted as the spirit moved them.</p> + +<p>They came to a grass plot, the sole illumination of which was +the light from a circus wagon. On the steps of the wagon sat a +man in tricot holding the head of a black poodle between his +knees.</p> + +<p>“Those were the last inhabitants of the earth,” said Daniel, +after they had crossed the square. The noise died away, the +gaudy lights disappeared.</p> + +<p>“How far are you going?” asked Eleanore, without the remotest +trace of fear in her voice.</p> + +<p>“I am going on until I am with you,” was the quick reply.</p> + +<p>The indistinct outline of a bridge became visible; under it the +water flowed noiselessly. The path had a yellowish shimmer; +there were no stars in the heavens. Suddenly the path seemed to +come to an end; at the end of it were trees there that seemed to +be moving closer and closer together; it became darker and darker; +they stopped.</p> + +<p>“We have told each other our whole story,” said Daniel. “In +the way of words we owe each other nothing. We have had +enough of talk; there has been no lack of sorrow and enough of +error. We can no longer act differently, and therefore we dare +not act differently any longer.”</p> + +<p>“Be still,” whispered Eleanore, “I don’t like your wrangling; +what you say is so unpeaceful and fiendish. Yesterday I dreamed +that you were lying on your knees and had your folded hands +uplifted. Then I loved you—very much.”</p> + +<p>“Do you need dreams in order to love me, girl? I don’t; I +need you just as you are. I will soon be thirty years old, Eleanore. +A man never really wakes up until he is thirty; it is then that he +conquers the world. You know what rests within me; you suspect +it. You know too how I need you; you feel it. You are my +soul; you are created out of my music; without you I am an +empty hull, a patchwork, a violin without strings.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Daniel, I believe you, and yet it is not all true,” replied +Eleanore. He thought he could see in the darkness her mockingly +ironical smile: “Somewhere, I am almost tempted to say in God, +it is not true. If we were better, if we were beings in the image +of God and acting in God’s ways, we would have to desist from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>our own ways. Then it would be wonderful to live: it would be +like living above the clouds, happy, at peace, pure.”</p> + +<p>“Does that come from your heart, Eleanore?”</p> + +<p>“My dear, dear man! My heart, like yours, has been beclouded +and bewitched. I cannot give you up. I have settled my accounts. +In my soul I am entirely conscious of my guilt. I know what I +am doing and assume full responsibility for my action. There is +no use to struggle any longer; the water is already swirling over +our heads. I simply want to say that you should not delude yourself +into believing that we have risen up above other people by +what we have done, that we have deserved the gratitude of fate. +No, Daniel, what we are doing is precisely what all those do who +fall. Let me stay with you, dearest; kiss me, kiss me to death.”</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Philippina had promised Eleanore to look after Jordan and +Gertrude on Sunday.</p> + +<p>As she was crossing Five Points, she went into a shop, and asked +for three pfennigs’ worth of court plaster. While doing some +housework she had scratched herself on a nail. The clerk gave +her the plaster, and asked her what was the news.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you poor bloke, you want to know the very latest, don’t +you?” she snarled, and then grinned with blatant self-complacency.</p> + +<p>“The later the better,” said the fellow with a lustful smirk.</p> + +<p>Philippina bent over the counter, and whispered: “They’re taking +their wedding trip to-day.” She laughed in a lewd, imbecile way. +The clerk stared at her with wide-opened eyes and mouth. Two +hours later the news was in the mouth of every hussy in that +section of the city.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was in bed. The day woman who did the cooking +gave Philippina a plate with Jordan’s dinner on it: Meat, vegetables, +and a few sour plums. Philippina ate two of the plums on the +way up to his room, and licked her fingers.</p> + +<p>The whole forenoon she spent rummaging around in Eleanore’s +room; she looked through the cabinets, the presses, and the pockets +of Eleanore’s dresses. As it began to grow dark, Jordan suddenly +entered, in hat and great coat, and looked on in speechless and +enraged amazement at the girl’s inexplicable curiosity.</p> + +<p>Philippina took the broom from the corner, and began to sweep +with all her might. While sweeping she sang, out of tune, impudently, +and savagely:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“No fire, no coal, so warmly glows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As secret love that no one knows.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Jordan went away without saying anything. He had forgotten +to lock his room. Hardly had Philippina noticed that he had left +the key in the door, when she opened it and went in.</p> + +<p>She spied around with cowardly, superstitious eyes. She was +afraid of the old inspector, as she would have been afraid of an +invincible magician. For such cases she had a number of formulas +at her tongue’s end. She murmured: “Put earth in, close the lid, +hold your thumbs, spit on your shoe.” She spat on her shoe.</p> + +<p>She then began to examine the cabinet, for she believed that it +contained all of Jordan’s secrets. But she could not open the +lock, try as she might. She then went at the writing desk; she +was angry. There she found, in plain wooden frames, the pictures +of Gertrude and Eleanore. She ran out, got a large needle, came +back, and stuck it in the picture of Eleanore right between the eyes. +Then she took Gertrude’s picture, and after she had held it for a +while, looking at it with her gloomy eyes, she noticed that it was +spotted with blood. The plaster had come off her finger, and +the finger had started to bleed.</p> + +<p>“Come now, Philippina,” she said to herself, “go and see how +Gertrude is making out.” Entering Gertrude’s room, she found +her asleep. Creeping up to her bed on her tiptoes, she took a +chair, straddled it, leaned her chin on the back, and stared fixedly +at the face of the young woman, now just barely visible in the +darkness of the room.</p> + +<p>Gertrude dreamed that a black bird was hovering over her and +picking at her breast with its pointed beak. She screamed and +woke up.</p> + +<p>Shortly after this Gertrude had to send for the midwife.</p> + +<p>During the night, Gertrude gave birth to a girl; she had suffered +terrible pains. Philippina had seen and heard it all. She had +run back and forth, from the kitchen to the bedroom and from the +bedroom to the kitchen, for hours; she was like an insane person; +she kept mumbling something to herself. What she mumbled +no one knew.</p> + +<p>Gertrude had called in vain for Daniel; in vain had she waited +for him the whole day.</p> + +<p>“Where in the world can Daniel be?” cried Philippina, “where +can Daniel be with his damned Eleanore?” She sat in the corner +with her hands folded, her hair tangled and knotted, her face +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>distorted with the grimaces of madness. The midwife was still +busy with Gertrude; the new-born child was crying pitifully.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Daniel held the child in his arms, and looked at it carefully +but without love. “You little worm, what do you want in this +world?” he said to his daughter. He still had his hat on; so had +Eleanore. Both of them were dressed just as they came from +the station; they were embarrassed and excited at what had happened. +Eleanore was exceedingly pale; her great eyes looked +dreamy; her body seemed of almost boyish slenderness. At times +she smiled; then the smile died away, as if she did not have the +courage to appear so cheerful.</p> + +<p>Inspector Jordan was also in the room, acting as he had always +acted since his bankruptcy—like a guest who feels that he is a +burden to the family. He said very humbly: “I have suggested +to Gertrude that she call the child Agnes after my deceased wife.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, let’s call her Agnes,” said Daniel.</p> + +<p>Gertrude asked that the child be brought to her so that she +could nurse it. Eleanore carried it over and laid it at her breast. +As the hands of the sisters touched, Gertrude looked up quickly: +there was an indescribable expression of thoughtfulness, knowingness, +and kindliness on her face. Eleanore fell on her knees, +threw her arms around Gertrude’s neck, and kissed her passionately. +Gertrude reached out her left hand to Daniel; he gave her his +right hand with some hesitancy. Jordan was radiant with joy: “It +is so good, children, to see that you all love each other, so good,” +he said with visible emotion.</p> + +<p>“Daniel, you must move up into Father’s quarters at once,” +said Gertrude. “Your piano, bed, and all your things must be +taken up, and Eleanore will move into your room. I have already +spoken to Father about it, and he feels that it will be a good +arrangement. He will be very quiet so as not disturb you. The +crying of the baby would make it impossible for you to work.”</p> + +<p>“It is a very practical solution of the problem,” said Jordan, +speaking for Daniel, and looked down at his frayed coat-sleeves, +which he tried to conceal by hiding them behind his back. “I +am also glad that Eleanore will be with you. A man, you know, +has a habit of going to bed long before a woman quits her daily +work. Is that not true, my son-in-law?” With that he clapped +Daniel on the shoulder.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p><p>“During Gertrude’s confinement I will sleep here in her room,” +said Eleanore, avoiding Daniel’s eyes as she said so. “She cannot +stay alone, and it costs too much to keep a nurse.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” said Jordan, and went to the door. But he turned +around: “I should like to know,” he asked in a tone of great +grief, “who has been at Gertrude’s and Eleanore’s pictures. The +one is covered with spots of blood, and the other has a hole +punched in it. Isn’t that very strange? I can’t understand it: +I can’t imagine who could have done me this injury.” He shook +his head and went out.</p> + +<p>“Do you realise that to-morrow is the first of November?” +asked Gertrude. “Have you the rent ready? Did Father make +any money last month?”</p> + +<p>“No, he didn’t,” replied Eleanore, “but I have almost enough +to pay the landlord.”</p> + +<p>It was no longer possible to depend upon Jordan. He was +supported by his children, and seemed to find the arrangement +neither strange nor humiliating. At times he would allude in a +mysterious way to a big enterprise that was going to claim the +whole of his attention and bring him a great deal of money and +honour. But if you asked him about it, he would wrinkle his +brow and put his finger to his lips.</p> + +<p>“I owe the man more than the rent,” said Daniel. He kissed +Gertrude on the forehead, and went out.</p> + +<p>“Put the child in the cradle, and come over here,” said Gertrude +to Eleanore, as soon as Daniel had closed the door behind him. +Eleanore did as she had been told. The baby was asleep. She +took it up, looked at its wrinkled face, and carried it to the cradle. +Then she went over to Gertrude’s bed.</p> + +<p>Gertrude seized her by her hands, and drew her down to her +with more strength than one would have imagined her to have +just then. The eyes of the two women were drawn close together. +“You must make him happy, Eleanore,” she said in a +hoarse voice, and with a sickly glimmer in her eyes. “If you do +not, it would be better if one of us were dead.”</p> + +<p>Despite her terror, Eleanore loosened Gertrude’s hold on her +with great gentleness. “It is hard to discuss that subject, Gertrude; +it is hard to live and hard to think about it all.” Eleanore +breathed these words into Gertrude’s ears.</p> + +<p>“You must make him happy; you must make him happy! Repeat +it to yourself and keep it in your mind every day, every hour, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>every minute. You must, you must, you must.” Gertrude was +almost beside herself.</p> + +<p>“I will learn how to do it,” replied Eleanore slowly and seriously. +“I am ... I hardly know what I am or how I feel. +But be patient with me, Gertrude, I will learn how to make him +happy.” She looked into Gertrude’s face with anxious curiosity. +Gertrude however pressed her hands against Eleanore’s cheeks, +drew her down to her again, and kissed her with unusual fervour. +“I too must learn how,” whispered Gertrude, “I must learn the +whole of life from the very beginning.”</p> + +<p>Some one knocked at the door. The midwife came in to look +after her patient.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>At that time the superstition still prevailed that the window in +the room of a woman in confinement must never be opened. The +air in the room was consequently heavy and ill-smelling. Eleanore +could hardly stand it during the day; during the night she could +not sleep. Moreover natural daylight could not enter the room, +and, as if it were not already gloomy enough, the window had +been hung with green curtains which were kept half drawn.</p> + +<p>The most unpleasant feature of all, however, was the interminable +round of visits from the women: custom had decreed that they +should not be turned away. The wife of the director of the +theatre came in; Martha Rübsam came in, and so did the wife of +Councillor Kirschner, and the wives of the butcher, baker, preacher, +and physician. And of course the wife of the apothecary called. +No one of them failed to pour out an abundance of gratuitous +advice or go into ecstasies over the beauty of the baby. Once +Daniel came in just as such an assemblage was in the sick room. +He looked first at one, then at another, threw back his head, and +left without saying a word.</p> + +<p>Herr Seelenfromm and M. Rivière were likewise not frightened +by the distance; they called. Eleanore met them in the hall, +and got rid of them by the usual method. And one day even +Herr Carovius came around to inquire how mother and child were +doing. Philippina received him; and Philippina was having a hard +time of it at present: she was not allowed to enter Gertrude’s +room; Gertrude would have nothing to do with her; she refused +to see her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p><p>So that she might not get too far behind with her work—for it +meant her daily bread—Eleanore pushed the table up to the +window, and despite the poor light, kept on writing. In the +evening she would sit by the lamp and write, although she was +so tired that she could hardly keep her eyes open.</p> + +<p>After three days, Gertrude had no milk for the baby; it had to +be fed with a bottle. It would cry for hours without stopping. +And as soon as it was quiet, its clothes had to be washed or its +bath prepared, or Gertrude wanted something, or one of the +pestiferous visitors came in. Eleanore had to lay her work aside; +in the evening she would fall across the bed and sleep with painful +soundness for an hour or two. If the baby did not wake her by +its hungry howling, the bad air did. Her head ached. Yet she +concealed her weakness, her longing, her oppression. Not even +Daniel noticed that there was anything wrong with her.</p> + +<p>She had very little opportunity to talk with him. And yet +there was probably not another pair of eyes in the whole world +that could be so eloquent and communicative with admonition, +promise, request, and cordial resignation. One evening they met +each other at the kitchen door: “Eleanore, I am stifling,” he whispered +to her.</p> + +<p>She laid her hands on his shoulder, and looked at him in +silence.</p> + +<p>“Come with me,” he urged with a stupid air. “Come with me! +Let’s run off.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore smiled and thought to herself: “The demands of his soul +are always a few leagues in advance of the humanly possible.”</p> + +<p>The next morning he stormed into the room. Eleanore was +only half dressed. With an expression of wrath flitting across her +face she reached for a towel and draped it about her shoulders. +He sat down on Gertrude’s bed, and let loose a torrent of words: +“I am going to set Goethe’s ‘Wanderers Sturmlied’ to music! I +am planning to make it a companion piece to the ‘Harzreise’ and +publish the two in a cycle. I have not slept the whole night. The +main motif is glorious.” He began to hum it over in a falsetto +voice: “‘Oh, mortal man, if genius does not forsake thee, neither +rain nor storm can breathe upon thy heart!’ How do you like +that?”</p> + +<p>Gertrude looked at him inspired.</p> + +<p>“I should have a good drink on that idea,” he continued; “I +have rarely felt such a longing for a flask of old wine. It’s a +bloody shame that I can’t afford it. But you wait till I get a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>little money, and you will see a <i>bouteille</i> of Tokay on my table +every day.”</p> + +<p>“My God, just listen how he raves! He’s going to have the +best there is,” said Philippina angrily, as she entered the room in +her stocking feet and heard Daniel’s remarks.</p> + +<p>Daniel told her to keep her mouth shut and leave the room at +once. He paid no attention to her reply, and cried out: “Something +has got to happen. If I can’t drink, I at least want to +dance. Dance with me, Eleanore; don’t be afraid, come, dance +with me!” He threw his arms around her, pressed her to his +bosom, sang a waltz melody, and drew the struggling and embarrassed +girl across the floor.</p> + +<p>Philippina broke out in her slimy, malicious laughter, and then +shrieked at the top of her voice that Frau Kirschner was outside +and wanted to see the Kapellmeister’s wife. Gertrude made an +imploring gesture, the full meaning of which Daniel easily grasped. +The baby began to cry, Eleanore tore herself away from Daniel’s +embrace, arranged her hair, and hastened over to the cradle. +Philippina opened the door to let the Councillor’s wife in. Just +then a violent discussion was started in the hall. One could hear +the voice of Jordan and that of some strange man.</p> + +<p>It was the furniture dealer who had come to collect the money +for the cradle. He was boiling with the rage that cares not how +it may be expressed: he said he had already been there four times, +and each time he was put off. The truth is, Daniel was very +hard up.</p> + +<p>The Councillor’s wife took Daniel to one side, and made him +an offer of a loan of two hundred marks. Daniel was silent; he +bit his lips, and looked down at the floor. She scolded him: +“You are always your own worst enemy. Now be reasonable, +Nothafft, I will send the money over at noon. If you have any +left, you may pay it back.”</p> + +<p>Daniel went out, and gave the blustering furniture dealer his +last ten-mark piece.</p> + +<p>Frau Kirschner had brought a flask of Tokay wine with her +for Gertrude. Tokay was regarded at that time as a sort of elixir +of life.</p> + +<p>“You see, so quickly are wishes fulfilled,” said Gertrude to +Daniel in the evening, when he came into her room. She poured +out a glass for him.</p> + +<p>“Have you any bills to settle?” he asked, looking partly at +Eleanore, partly at Gertrude, and striking his wallet, then bulging +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>with notes. “It’s Court Councillor’s money,” he said, “real +Court Councillor’s money. How beautiful it looks, lousy fine, eh? +And upon that stuff the salvation of my soul depends!” He threw +the money on Gertrude’s bed, stuck out his tongue, and turned +away in disgust.</p> + +<p>Eleanore handed him the glass of Tokay; her eyes glistened +with tears.</p> + +<p>“No, Eleanore,” he said, “I have trifled it away. In my arrogance +I imagined I could do something; I thought I could get +somewhere. I sit down, brood over my ideas, and find that they +are all wind-eggs. I have the feeling that I have taken a false +oath. What good am I, Eleanore, what good am I, Gertrude?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, take a drink, and perhaps your troubles will leave you,” +said Eleanore, and stroked his brow with her hand.</p> + +<p>Gertrude called out to her: “Quit that! Put that glass away!” +She spoke so harshly that Eleanore sprang back, and Daniel got up.</p> + +<p>“Leave me alone for a while,” she said. Daniel and Eleanore +left the room.</p> + +<p>Eleanore went into the living room, sat down at the table, and +laid her head in her hands. “What can we do now?” she said +to Daniel. The violin tone in her voice had something unusually +touching about it.</p> + +<p>Daniel set the candle he was carrying in the bay window. He +bent down over the table, and took Eleanore by her small wrists. +“Accept the bitter for the sake of the sweet,” he murmured. “Believe +in me, believe in yourself, believe in the higher law. It is +not possible that I merely imagined that there is a winged creature +for me. I must have something to cling to, something indestructible, +ah, even superhuman.”</p> + +<p>“You must have something superhuman to cling to,” Eleanore +repeated after him. She could not help but think that he had +already made superhuman demands of the other woman, his wife, +her sister, Gertrude. She raised her finger as if to warn him: it +was a gesture of infinite timidity.</p> + +<p>But Daniel scarcely saw what she had done. In his arrogant +presumption and passion he could have smashed the universe to +pieces, and then re-created it merely in order to mould this one +creature after his own desires. He would have made her of +boundless pliability, and yet active in her love for him; he would +have had her spurn venerable commandments in a spirit of self-glorification, +and yet cherish unequivocal confidence in him, the +creature of need and defiance; and she would be cheerful withal.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p><p>“I am cold,” whispered Eleanore, peering into the dark shadows +of the room.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>To know that these eyes and their pure passion were so close to +him; to be able to touch this cool, sincere, mutely-eloquent mouth +with his lips; to be able to hold these hands in which passion +resided as it does in the speechless unrest of a messenger; to be +able to press this throbbing figure with all its willingness and hesitation +to his bosom—it was almost too much for Daniel. It involved +pain; it aroused an impatience, a thirst for more and more. +His daily work was interrupted; his thoughts, plans, and arrangements +were torn from their connection.</p> + +<p>He spoke to people whom he knew as though they were total +strangers; he amazed those whom he did not know by the loyal +confidence he voluntarily placed in them. He forgot to put on his +hat when he walked along the street; the distraction he revealed +was the source of constant merriment to passersby and on-lookers. +He would not know when it was noon; he would come home at +three o’clock, thinking it was twelve. Once he came nearly being +run over by a team of galloping horses; another time he had his +umbrella taken straight from his hands without noticing it. This +took place at the Ludwig Station.</p> + +<p>“Oh, winged creature, winged creature,” he would say to himself, +and smile like a somnambulist. Deep in his soul a sea of +tones was surging. He listened to them with complete assurance, +angry though he would become at times because of the failure of +this or that. He was so absorbed in himself, so enmeshed in +his own thoughts, that he scarcely saw the sky above him; houses, +people, animals, and the things that are after all necessary to human +existence existed only in his dreams, if at all.</p> + +<p>Winged creature, winged creature!</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>As soon as Gertrude could get up and go about, Eleanore accepted +an invitation from Martha Rübsam to visit her aunt, Frau +Seelenfromm, in Altdorf. The visit was to last two weeks. +Eleanore looked upon it as a test that would determine whether +she could do anything on her own account now: whether she could +get along without Daniel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p><p>But she saw that she could no longer live without him. In the +lonely house she came to the conclusion that her love was great +enough to enable her to bear the monstrous burden fate had been +trying to impose upon her. She saw that neither flight nor concealment +nor anything else could save her, could save Daniel, could +give back to Gertrude what she had lost, what had been taken from +her.</p> + +<p>There were times, to be sure, when she asked herself whether +it was all true and real; whether it could be possible. She walked +in darkness surrounded by demons. Her being was plunged into +the deepest and strangest bewilderment; confusion enveloped her; +there was sorrow in the effort she made to avert the inexorable.</p> + +<p>But in one of her sleepless nights she thought she was covering +Daniel’s mind with a flame of fire; she thought she heard his +voice calling out to her with a power she had never known before.</p> + +<p>No one she had ever seen was so vivacious, so alive as he. Her +slumbering fancy had awakened at the sound of his voice and the +feel of his warm breath. She felt that people owed him a great +deal; and since they did not seem inclined to pay their debts, it +was her duty to make restitution to Daniel for their neglect.</p> + +<p>She could not survey the ways of his art: the musician in him +made neither a strange nor a special appeal to her. She grasped +and felt only him himself; to her he was Daniel. She grasped +and felt only the man who was born to do lofty, the loftiest, +deeds and who passed by the base and evil in men in silence; +who knew that he had been chosen but was obliged to renounce +the privilege of ruling; who was always in full armour, ready to +defend a threatened sanctuary.</p> + +<p>Of such a man, of such a knight and warrior, she had dreamt +even when a child. For although she looked at things and circumstances +with the eyes of truth, her soul had always been full +of secret dreams and visions. Back of her unceasing and unfading +activity the genii of romanticism had been spinning their bright-coloured +threads; it was they that had formed the glass case in +which she had lived for so long, impervious to the touch of mortal +hand, immune to the flames of love.</p> + +<p>The morning following that night she explained to her friend +that she was going home. Martha tried in vain to get her to stay: +she was almost ill with longing.</p> + +<p>Martha let her go; she had the very saddest of thoughts concerning +Eleanore’s future; for the unhappy incidents of that unhappy +home had reached Martha’s sensitive ears. She did not worry +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>because of moral principles; she was not that kind of a woman. +She worried over Eleanore out of genuine affection: it pained her +to know that she could no longer admire Eleanore.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>In the meanwhile Daniel had told his wife that a child of his +was living with his mother in Eschenbach, and that he had known +nothing about it until Eleanore took him over there. He told +her the child’s name and how old it was and who its mother was, +and gave her a detailed description of that celebrated New Year’s +Night on which he had embraced the maid. He told her how +he had stood out in front of her house that night and longed for +her with all his senses, and how he felt, when he looked at little +Eva, as if Providence had only seemed to use the body of a +strange woman, and that Eva was in reality Gertrude’s own child.</p> + +<p>To this Gertrude replied: “I never want to see that child.”</p> + +<p>“You will be ashamed of having made this remark once you do +see the child,” replied Daniel. “You should not be envious of a +creature whom God brought into the world so that the world may be +more beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak of God!” said Gertrude quickly and with uplifted +hand. Then, after a pause, during which Daniel looked at her +angrily, she added with a painful smile: “The very idea: I, jealous, +envious! O no, Daniel.”</p> + +<p>The way she pressed her hands to her bosom convinced Daniel, +and quite emphatically too, that she did not know the feeling of +envy or jealousy. He said nothing, but remained in her room for +an unusually long while. When she was cutting bread, she let the +knife fall. He sprang and picked it up for her. He had never +done this before. Gertrude looked at him as he bent over. Her +eyes became dim, flared up, and then became dim again.</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak of God!” Somehow Daniel could not get these +words out of his mind.</p> + +<p>When Eleanore returned she was terrified at the expression on +Daniel’s face. He seemed dazed; his eyes were inflamed as though +he too had not been able to sleep; he could hardly talk. Finally +he demanded that she swear to him never to go away again.</p> + +<p>She hesitated to take an oath of this kind, but he became more +and more insistent, and she took it. He threw his arms about her +with passionate impetuosity; just then the door opened, and +Gertrude stood on the threshold. Daniel hastened to her, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>wanted to take her by the hand; but she stepped back and back +until she reached her bedroom.</p> + +<p>It was evening; covers were laid for four: Jordan was to take +dinner with them that evening. He came down promptly; Eleanore +brought in the food; but Gertrude was nowhere to be found. +Eleanore went in to her. She was sitting by the cradle, combing +her hair with slow deliberation.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you eat with us, Gertrude?” asked Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Gertrude did not seem to hear her. In a few minutes she got +up, walked over to the mirror on the wall, pressed her hair with +the palms of her hands to her two cheeks, and looked in the mirror +with wide-opened eyes.</p> + +<p>“Come, Gertrude,” said Eleanore, rather timidly, “Daniel is +waiting.”</p> + +<p>“That they are in there again,” murmured Gertrude, “it seems +like a sin.” She turned around, and beckoned to Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Eleanore went over to her in perfect obedience. Gertrude +threw her arms around her neck until her left temple touched +Eleanore’s right one with only her hair hanging between them +like a curtain. Gertrude again looked in the mirror; her eyes +became rigid; she said: “Oh yes, you are more beautiful, much +more beautiful, a hundred times more beautiful.”</p> + +<p>Just then the child began to stir, and since Gertrude was still +standing immovable before the mirror, Eleanore went to the +cradle. Hardly had Gertrude noticed what she had done, when +she rushed out and cried with terrifying rudeness: “Don’t touch +that child! Don’t touch it, I say!” She then went up, snatched +the child from the cradle, and went back to her bed with it, +saying gently and yet threateningly: “It belongs to me, to me and +to no one else.”</p> + +<p>Since this incident, Eleanore knew that a fearful change had +come over her sister. She did not know whether other people +noticed it; she did not even know whether Daniel was aware of +it. But she knew it, and it frightened her.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, about sunset, Eleanore came in and found Gertrude +on her knees in the hall scrubbing the floor. “You shouldn’t +do that, Gertrude,” said Eleanore, “you are not strong enough for +that kind of work yet.”</p> + +<p>Gertrude made no reply; she kept on scrubbing.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you dress better?” continued Eleanore; “Daniel +does not like to see you going about in that ugly old brown skirt. +Believe me, it makes him angry.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p><p>Gertrude straightened up on her knees, and said with disconcerting +humility: “You dress up; it is not well for two to look +so nice. What shall I do?” she asked, and let her head sink. +“You wear your gold chain and the corals in your ears. That +pleases me; that is the way it should be. But I have no gold +chain; I have no corals. If I had them, I wouldn’t wear them; +and if I wore them, it would not be right.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Gertrude, what are you talking about?” asked Eleanore.</p> + +<p>The ringing of the church bells could be heard in the hall. +Gertrude folded her hands in prayer. There was a stern solemnity +in her action. In her kneeling position she looked as though +she were petrified.</p> + +<p>Eleanore went into the room with a heavy heart.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>Through the dividing walls Daniel and Eleanore were irresistibly +drawn to each other. They accompanied each other in +their thoughts; each divined the other’s wishes and feelings. If +he came home in a bad humour, if she was anxious and restless, +they both needed merely to sit down by each other to regain their +peace.</p> + +<p>If Daniel’s power of persuasion was great, Eleanore’s example +was equally great. A dish would displease Daniel. Eleanore +would not only eat it, but would praise it; and Daniel would then +eat it too, and like it. Gertrude had prepared the food, and +Eleanore felt it was her duty to spare her sister as much humiliation +as possible. But Gertrude did not want to be treated indulgently. +She would lay her knife and fork aside, and say: “Daniel +is right. It is not fit to eat.” She would get up and go into the +kitchen and make a porridge that would take the place of the +inedible dish. That was the way she acted: she was always resigned, +diligent, and quiet; she made every possible effort to do +her duty. Daniel and Eleanore looked at each other embarrassed; +but their embarrassment was transformed in time into mutual +ecstasy: they could not keep from looking at each other.</p> + +<p>There was nothing of the seducer in Daniel’s sexual equipment. +On the other hand he was dependent to a very high degree +upon his wishes and desires; and in his passionate obstinacy he not +infrequently lacked consideration. Eleanore however possessed profound +calmness, cheerful certainty, and a goodly measure of indulgence; +and she knew exactly how to make use of these traits. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>claims that were made on her patience and moderation would have +harassed a heart steeled in the actualities of politics and flooded +with worldly experiences. She however found a safe and unerring +guide in the instincts of her nature, and was never tired.</p> + +<p>The trait in her to which he took most frequent and violent +exception was what he called her plebeian caution; she seemed +determined to pay due and conventional respect to appearances. +He did not wish to lay claim to the hours of his love as though +they were a stolen possession; he did not wish to sneak across +bridges and through halls; he did not wish to whisper; he did not +wish to lie in wait for a secret tryst; he rebelled at the thought of +coming and going in fear and trembling.</p> + +<p>There is not the slightest use to investigate all the secrecies between +Daniel and Eleanore. It will serve no useful end to infringe +with unskilled hand on the work of the evil spirit Asmodeus, +who makes walls transparent and allows his devotees to look into +bed chambers. It would be futile to act as the spy of Daniel and +show how he left the attic room in the dead of night and crept +down the stairs in felt slippers. We have no desire to hear of +Eleanore’s pangs of conscience and her longings, her flights, her +waiting in burning suspense; to relate how she endeavoured to +avert the inevitable to-day and succumbed to-morrow would be +to tell an idle tale. It is best to overlook all these things; to +draw a curtain of mercy before them; for they are so human and +so wholly without a trace of the miraculous.</p> + +<p>It will be enough to touch upon a single night on which Daniel +went to Eleanore’s room and said: “I have never yet seen you as a +lover sees his beloved.” Eleanore was sitting on the edge of her +bed, trembling. She blew out the candle. Daniel heard the +rustling of her clothes. She went up to the stove and opened the +front draft door. There was a red hot coal fire in the stove. +She stood before him with the purple glow of the burning coals +upon her body, slender, delicate, nude. Her figure, peculiarly +beautiful, was filled with the most harmonious of inspiration; it +was ensouled. And since the play of her limbs, as they became +conscious of the light, was suddenly stiffened with shame, Eleanore +bent her head over to the wall where the mask of Zingarella, +which he had given her, was hanging. She took it down, and +held it with both hands so that the purple glow from the stove fell +also on it. As she did this she smiled in a way that cut Daniel +to the very heart: something eternal came over him; he had a +premonition of the end; he feared fate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p><p>At the same time Gertrude rose up in her bed, and stared with +eyes as if she were beholding, who knows whom? at the door. +After she had stared for a long while, she got up, opened the door, +went out into the hall without making the slightest noise, came +back, went out again, came back again, and got in bed, left the +door open, sat upright and gazed at the closed door across the hall +behind which she knew Daniel and Eleanore were. Her hair +hung down in two long braids on either side of her head. Her +pale face in this frame of black hair above it and on both sides of +it looked like a wax figure in an old black frame.</p> + +<p>Of the pictures that were being formed in her mind and soul, +there was not a single twitching of the muscles to indicate what +they looked like.</p> + +<p>For her the entire world lay behind that door. It seemed to +her that she could no longer endure the knowledge she had of +what was taking place. In her maddened imagination she saw +women stealing through the halls of the house; in every corner +there was a woman, and with every woman there was a man; they +embraced each other, and sank their teeth into each other’s flesh. It +was all as criminal as it was irrational; it was a shame and an +abomination to behold. Everywhere she looked she saw reprehensible +nudeness; all clothes seemed to be made of glass; she +could look neither at a man nor at a woman without turning pale. +She had only one refuge: the cradle of her child. She would +rush to it and pray. But as soon as her prayer was ended she +again felt stifled in the poisoned air about her, while the desire +to acquit herself of the crime of which she felt guilty, unable +though she was to define the crime or determine her part in it, +robbed her of her sleep. She felt that a great jagged stone was +suspended over her head, that it was becoming less and less firmly +attached every day, and that its fall if not imminent was +certain.</p> + +<p>Hour after hour passed by; Daniel finally appeared in the +vestibule. He was not a little terrified when he saw the burning +lamp and Gertrude sitting up in bed.</p> + +<p>He went into the bedroom, closed the door, walked up to the +cradle, looked at the child, and then went over to Gertrude. She +cast a glance of infinite inquiry at him. It was a look that seemed +to implore him for a decision, a judgment. At the same time she +put out her hands as if to ward off any approach on his part. +When she saw that he was astonished, she softened the expression +on her face, and said: “Give me your hand.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p><p>She took his right hand, stroked it, and whispered: “Poor hand, +poor hand.”</p> + +<p>Daniel bit his lips: “Oh woman, what ...?” That was all.</p> + +<p>He sat down in silence on the edge of her bed. Gertrude looked +at him in the same tense, anxious way in which she had studied +him a few moments earlier. He sank down beside her, and fell +asleep with his head on her breast.</p> + +<p>She kept on holding his hand. She looked into his pale, narrow +face and at his angular brow, the skin of which could be seen to +twitch every now and then under the loose flowing hair that hung +over it. The oil in the lamp was getting low, the wick had +begun to smell. She was afraid however to put it out lest she +might waken Daniel. She looked on in silence as the light became +dimmer and dimmer and finally went out, leaving only the red +glow of the wick. This too died away in time, and it became dark.</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>For some time Eleanore had noticed that the baker’s boy, instead +of carefully putting the rolls in the sack each morning as had +always been his custom, threw them through the lattice on to the +ground.</p> + +<p>The newspaper boy stopped speaking to her; the postman smiled +scornfully; and even the beggar, at least she thought so, asked for +his alms in a tone of impudence.</p> + +<p>One day she was passing through Schmausen Street; a woman +was leaning out of the window. Seeing Eleanore coming, she +called back into the room, whereupon a young man and three half-grown +girls rushed to the window, began making remarks to each +other, and gaped at her with looks that made her turn deathly +pale.</p> + +<p>Another time Daniel brought her a free ticket to a concert. +She went, and as soon as she reached the hall she was struck by +the discourteous and indecent manner in which the bystanders +looked at her. A well-dressed woman moved away from her. +Some men kept walking around her, grinning at her. She found +it intolerable, and went home.</p> + +<p>Exercise in the open had often driven away the cares that +chanced to be weighing upon her: she went skating. As soon as +the people saw her, they began to whisper among themselves. She +did not bother about them or their remarks; she cut her beautiful +figures on the ice as if she were quite alone. A group of young +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>girls pointed at her with their fingers. She went up to them with +pride glistening in her eyes, and they all ran away. Those who +had formerly paid homage to her avoided her now. Her soul +rebelled within her; meeting with so much unexpected and cowardly +vulgarity enflamed her sensibilities and ennobled her self-respect.</p> + +<p>One day in December she crossed the Wine Market, and started +to pass through a narrow street that led to the Halle Gate. Standing +at the entrance to the alley were a number of men engaged in +conversation. She recognised Alfons Diruf among them. She +thought they would step to one side and let her pass, but not one +of them moved. They gaped at her in unmitigated shamelessness. +She could have turned about and taken another street, but that +defiance on the part of those men made her insist upon her rights +to go the way she had originally decided upon. Impressed, apparently, +by the flaming blue of her eyes, the scoundrels at last condescended +to shift their lazy frames to one side. They formed +an espalier through which she had to walk. But worse than this +were the lewd looks that she knew were following her, and the +laughter that greeted her ears. It was the type of laughter ordinarily +heard at night when one passes a low dive, in which the +scum of human society has gathered to amuse itself by the telling +of salacious stories.</p> + +<p>She often had the feeling, particularly after dark, that some +one was following her. Once she looked around, and a man was +behind her. He wore a havelock; he turned quickly into a gate. +A few days later she had a similar experience, but this time she +was frightened worse than ever, for she thought it was Herr +Carovius.</p> + +<p>One evening as she was leaving the house she saw the same +figure standing by the church on the other side of the street. As +she hesitated and wondered whether she should go on, another +person joined the first. She thought it was Philippina. The two +began to talk, but Eleanore could not make out who they were; it +was snowing, and there was no street lamp nearby.</p> + +<p>She could not tell why, but she was suddenly seized with +anxiety for Daniel; for him and for no one else. She felt that +unless she went back something dreadful would happen to him. +She rushed up the steps to the attic room, and knocked at his +door; there was not a sound. She opened the door and went in, +but everything was dark. In the darkness, however, standing out +against the white background from the light of the snow, she saw +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>his body. He was sitting at the piano; he had his arms on the lid, +his head between his hands. Eleanore hastened up to him, and, +with a tone of sweet sadness in what she said, threw her arms +around his neck.</p> + +<p>Daniel took her on his lap, pressed her head to his bosom, and +laughed with open month and shining teeth but without making +a sound. He often laughed that way now.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>He laughed that way at the intrigues that were being forged +against him by his bitterest enemy, Fräulein Varini, and which +resulted in his meeting with distrust and opposition in everything +he undertook at the City Theatre.</p> + +<p>He laughed that way at the anonymous letters, filled with insulting +remarks, which were being sent him by his fellow citizens, +and which he read with naïve curiosity merely to see how far +human nastiness and bestial hate could go.</p> + +<p>He laughed that way when he received the letter from Baroness +von Auffenberg informing him that she was forced to discontinue +her lessons and recitals. She said that her constitution had been +weakened, and that she was going to close her town house and spend +the winter at her country place at Hersbruck. Daniel heard however +that she spent a great deal of her time in town, and that she +had arranged for an elaborate cycle of <i>musicales</i>, a thing she had +never dared to do under his administration. Andreas Döderlein +had been engaged as her musical adviser: now she could rave and +go into ecstasies and hypnotise her impotent soul in the mephitic +air of artificial aroma just as much as she pleased.</p> + +<p>And he laughed that way at the weekly attacks upon him and +his art that appeared in the <i>Fränkischer Herold</i>, copies of which +were delivered at his front door with the regularity of the sun. +The attacks consisted of sly, caustic sneers, secrets that had been +ferreted out with dog-like keenness, gigantic broadsides based on +hearsay evidence, and perfidious suspicions lodged against Daniel +Nothafft, the artist, and Daniel Nothafft, the man.</p> + +<p>The articles never failed to mention the Goose Man. Daniel +asked to have the allusion explained. The Goose Man was elevated +to the rank and dignity of an original humourist. “What is the +latest concerning the Goose Man?” became a standing head-line. +Or the reader’s eye would fall on the following notice: “The +Goose Man is again attracting the attention of all friends of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>music. He has had the ingenious audacity to make the opera +‘Stradella’ more enjoyable by the interpolation of a funeral march +of his own make. The ever-submissive domestic birds which he +carries under his arms have rewarded him for his efforts in this +connection by the cackling of their abundant and affectionate gratitude.”</p> + +<p>The birthplace of these inimitable achievements in the field of +journalistic wit was the reserved table at the Crocodile. If ever +in the history of the world men have laughed real honest tears +it was at the writing of such news bearing on the life and conduct +of the Goose Man. The editor-in-chief, Weibezahl, was the +recording secretary at these intellectual Olympiads, and Herr +Carovius was the protagonist. He had access to reliable sources, +as newspaper men say, and every evening he surprised the round +table with new delicacies for Weibezahl’s columns.</p> + +<p>Daniel was ignorant of what was going on. But the Goose +Man, the expression as well as the figure, became interwoven with +his thoughts, and acquired, somehow and somewhere in the course +of time, a transfigured meaning.</p> + + +<h3>XIV</h3> + +<p>One day Frau Kirschner wrote to Daniel telling him that she +did not wish to have anything more to do with him; she demanded +in the same letter that he pay back the money she had advanced +him. He could not raise it: the City Theatre had already made +him a loan, he had no friends, and M. Rivière, the only person +on earth who might have been able to come to his rescue, had +gone back to France.</p> + +<p>Matters took their usual course: A lawyer notified Daniel, giving +him so many days grace; when these had elapsed and no payment +had been made, a summons was served on him; the sheriff came in, +and in default of any other object of value he pawned the piano.</p> + +<p>Daniel’s objections were quite ineffectual: a few days more and +the piano would be put up at auction.</p> + +<p>One gloomy morning in January Philippina entered his room.</p> + +<p>“Say, Daniel,” she began, “would you like to have some money +from me?”</p> + +<p>Daniel turned his head slowly and looked at her in amazement.</p> + +<p>“I have lots of it,” she continued with her hoarse voice, her +glassy eyes glittering underneath her bangs. “I have been saving +it a pfennig at a time ever since I was a child. I can give you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>the money you owe the Councillor’s wife. Sling it at her, the +old hag! Say to me: ‘Please Philippina, give me the money,’ and +you’ll find it on the table.”</p> + +<p>“Are you crazy?” asked Daniel, “get out of here just as quickly +as your feet can carry you!” He felt distinctly creepy in her +presence.</p> + +<p>Philippina, beside herself with rage, seized his hand. Before +he could do a thing she bit him just below the little finger. The +wound was quite deep. He groaned, shook her off, and pushed +her back. She looked at him triumphantly, but her face had +turned yellow.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Daniel,” she said in a begging, beseeching tone, +“don’t be so ugly! Don’t be so mean toward me! Don’t be so +jealous!”</p> + +<p>The wench’s infamous smile, her hair hanging down over her +eyes, her big red hands, the snow-flakes on her short cloak, the +border on her fiery red dress below her cloak, and the poison +green ribbon on her hat—this ensemble of ugliness filled Daniel +with the loathing he might have experienced had he stood face to +face with the most detestable picture he had ever seen from the +world of human beings. But as he turned his head, a feeling of +sympathy came over him; he suspected that the girl was bound +to him by bonds that did not reach him until after they had +taken their course through the dark channels of some subterranean +labyrinth. What she had done filled him with dismay; but as a +revelation of character it surprised him and set him to thinking.</p> + +<p>He went over to the washing table to put his bleeding hand +in the water. Philippina took a fresh handkerchief from the +cabinet, and handed it to him as a bandage. He looked at her +with piercing eyes, and said: “What kind of a person are you? +What sort of a devil is in you, anyway? Be careful, Jason Philip’s +daughter, be careful!”</p> + +<p>Since there was a tone of kindness in these words, the muscles +of Philippina’s face moved in a mysterious way. Her features +were distorted as if by a grin, and yet she was not grinning. She +drew a leather purse from her cloak pocket, opened it, and took +out two one-hundred-mark notes and a gold coin. They had been +wrapped in paper. She unfolded the paper and the notes, laid +them, together with the coin, on the table, and handed Daniel a +written statement.</p> + +<p>He read it: “I, the undersigned, Daniel Nothafft, promise to pay +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>to Philippina Schimmelweis two hundred and twenty marks at +five per cent interest, for value received.”</p> + +<p>“With that you c’n pay the sheriff and git yourself out of this +mess,” said Philippina, in a most urgent tone. “You can’t give +piano lessons on a rolling pin, and that music box of yours is after +all the tool you make your living by. Sign that, and you will +be in peace.”</p> + +<p>“Where did you get the money?” asked Daniel. “How did +you ever come by so much money? Tell me the truth.” All of +a sudden he remembered Theresa’s words: “All that nice money, +all that nice money!”</p> + +<p>Philippina began to chew her finger nails. “That’s none of +your business,” she said gruffly, “it ain’t been stolen. Moreover, +I c’n tell you,” she said, as she felt that his distrust was taking on +a threatening aspect, “mother give it to me on the sly. She +didn’t want me to be without a penny if anything happened. For +my father—he would like to see me strung up. She give it to me, +I say, on the side, and she made me swear before the cross that I +would never let any one know about it.”</p> + +<p>This tale of horror made Daniel shake his head; he had his +doubts. He felt she was lying, and yet there was a mysterious +force back of her statement and in her eyes. He was undecided; +he thought it over. His livelihood was at stake. Weeks, months +might pass by before he could get another piano. Philippina’s +readiness to help him was a riddle to him, everything she said was +repulsive and banal; but after all she was willing to help in a most +substantial way, and he was in such difficulties that voices of +admonition simply had to be drowned out.</p> + +<p>“It is nothing but money,” he thought contemptuously, and +sat down to put his name to the note.</p> + +<p>Philippina drew up her shoulders, and never once breathed until +he had signed the note and handed it over to her in silence. Then +she looked at him imploringly, and said: “Now Daniel, you must +never again treat me like you would a scurvy cat.”</p> + + +<h3>XV</h3> + +<p>There had been an unusual amount of talk this year about the +parade on Shrove Tuesday. On the afternoon of that day the +whole city was on its feet.</p> + +<p>Daniel was on his way home; he had reached the corner of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>Theresa Street when he ran into the crowd. He stopped out of +idle curiosity. The first division of the parade came up: it consisted +of three heralds in gaudy mediæval costumes, and back of +them were three councillors on horseback.</p> + +<p>Next in the procession was a condemned witch on a wheelbarrow. +Her face had been hideously painted, and in her hand +she swung a huge whiskey bottle. She was followed by a group +of Chinese, each with a long pigtail, and they by a troupe of +dancing Kameruns.</p> + +<p>The procession moved on in the following order: a giant carrying +twenty-seven quart beer mugs; a woman’s orchestra consisting +exclusively of old women; a wagon from one of the peasant districts +bearing the inscription, “Adorers of Taxes”; a smoking club +with the Swedish match merchant; a wagon with a replica of the +Spittler Gate made of beer kegs; the so-called guard against +sparks; a nurse with a grown child in diapers and Hussar boots; +the seven Swabians on velocipedes; a cabriolet with a gaily dressed +English family; a conveyance carrying authors. There were two +inscriptions on it: “The And So Forths” and “The Et Ceterists.”</p> + +<p>At the end of the procession was a wagon with a skilful imitation +of the Goose Man. It had been made out of old boards, +hoops, clay, old rags, and iron. The Goose Man himself wore +an open velvet doublet and short velvet trousers, from the pockets +of which protruded rolls of banknotes. Instead of a cap he had +a rusty pan on his head, and on his feet was a pair of worn +patent leather shoes. Under each arm he carried a goose. The +geese had been made of dough. Their heads were not the heads +of geese but of women artificially painted and with so-called taws, +or marbles, for their eyes. The face at the Goose Man’s left +looked melancholy, the one at his right was cheerful.</p> + +<p>This was the centre of attraction; it was surrounded by the +largest crowds. Every time it came within sight of a fresh group +of on-lookers there was a tremendous shouting and waving of flags. +This was true even where it was plain that the people did not +appreciate the significance of it. Pulchinellos brandished their +wooden swords, Indian chieftains danced around it screaming their +mighty war-whoops, a Mephistopheles turned somersaults, knights +mounted on stilts saluted, and children with wax masks shrieked +until it was impossible to hear one’s own voice.</p> + +<p>Daniel had watched the performance with relative indifference. +He had regarded it merely as a display of commonplace ability +to amuse the people. Then came the wagon with the imitation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>of the Goose Man. On it stood Schwalbe the sculptor, gloriously +drunk. Beside him stood Kropotkin the painter in his shirt +sleeves, apparently oblivious to the fact that it was cold. A fearfully +fat youth—a future school officer, so far as could be determined +from his looks—had hit upon the happy idea of pasting +the title of the <i>Fränkischer Herold</i> to the Goose Man’s hat. This +took the initiated by storm.</p> + +<p>Kropotkin recognised Daniel. He called to him, threw him +kisses, had one of the wooden swords given him, and went through +the motion of directing an orchestra. The fat boy hurled a handful +of pretzels at the spot on the sidewalk where Daniel was +standing; a trombone began to bray; the Englishman first stuck +his head out of his cabriolet, and then got out and hopped over to +Daniel, carrying a pole draped with women’s clothes, including +a feather hat and a veil. A new keg of beer was tapped on the +Gambrinus wagon, while the people in the houses rushed to the +windows and roared.</p> + +<p>“You have forgotten the railing,” cried Daniel in a loud voice +to the people on the Goose Man wagon.</p> + +<p>“What did he say?” they asked, and looked at each other in +astonishment. The on-lookers were filled with curious silence: +many of them gazed at Daniel, bewildered.</p> + +<p>“You forgot the railing,” he repeated, with glistening eyes, +“you have forgotten the iron railing. Without his protection the +poor Goose Man is to be sure your buffoon, your zany, your +clown.”</p> + +<p>He laughed quietly, and, with opened mouth and shining teeth, +quickly withdrew from the innumerable gapers. Having reached +a deserted alley, he began to sing with a frenzied expression on +his face: “Whom thou dost not desert, oh Genius, him wilt thou +raise up with wings of fire. He will wander on as if with feet of +flowers across Deucalion’s seas of slime, killing Python, light-footed, +famed Pythius Apollo.”</p> + + +<h3>XVI</h3> + +<p>A few weeks later a real singer came to Daniel. She sang +several of the songs he had written. He had thought they were +completely forgotten by everybody. Her art was not merely perfect; +it was wonderful.</p> + +<p>It was a very mysterious visit the singer paid him. One afternoon +during a fearful snow storm the bell rang; and when Gertrude +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>opened the door, she saw a woman wearing a heavy black veil +standing before her, who said she wished to speak to Kapellmeister +Nothafft. Gertrude took her up to Daniel’s room. The stranger +told Daniel she had been wishing to make his acquaintance for a +long time, and, now on her way to Italy, she had been detained +in the city for a few days by the illness of a near friend. This, +she said, she regarded as a hint from fate itself. She had come +to extend him her greetings, and particularly to thank him for his +songs, a copy of which a friend had been good enough to present +to her at a time when she was living under the weight of a great +sorrow.</p> + +<p>She spoke with an accent that had a Northern note in it, but +easily and fluently; she gave the impression of a woman who had +seen a great deal of the world and had profited by her travels. +Daniel asked her with whom he had the pleasure of speaking, but +she smiled, and asked permission to conceal her name for the +present. She said that it really did not make much difference, +and that it might be more agreeable to him later to think that an +unknown woman had come to him to express her appreciation than +to recall that Fräulein So-and-So had been there: she hoped that +her very anonymity would make a more lasting impression on his +memory than could be made by a woman of whom he knew only +what everybody knows.</p> + +<p>The mingling of the jocose and the serious, of the mind and +the heart, in the words of the stranger pleased Daniel. Though +his replies were curt and cool, it was plain that she was affording +him much pleasure: she was reminding him of the fact that his +creations had not after all sunk into an echoless abyss. In course +of time, the conversation turned again to the songs; she said she +would like very much to sing some of them for him. Daniel was +pleased. He got the score, sat down at the piano, and the enigmatic +woman began to sing. At the very first note Daniel was +enraptured; he had never heard such a voice: so soft, so pure, so +emotional, so unlike the conventional product of the conservatory. +As soon as she had finished the first song, he looked up at her in +unaffected embarrassment, and murmured: “Who are you, anyhow? +Who are you?”</p> + +<p>“No investigations or cross-questioning, please,” replied the +singer, and, blushing at the praise Daniel was bestowing on her +by his very behaviour, she laughed and said, “The next song, +please, that one by Eichendorff!”</p> + +<p>Gertrude, who had not wished to remain longer than was necessary +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>because of the unkempt impression she knew she made, had +hastened down to the kitchen. And now Eleanore came in, after +having knocked at the door with all imaginable timidity. She had +heard the strange voice, had rushed out into the hall, and, unable +to restrain her curiosity any longer, had come in to see the +singer.</p> + +<p>Daniel nodded to her with radiant eyes, the stranger greeted +her cordially though calmly, and then began to sing the next song; +after this she took up the third, and so on until she had sung +the complete cycle of six. Old Jordan was standing behind the +door; he had his hands pressed to his face and was listening; he +was much moved.</p> + +<p>“Well, I must be going,” said the strange woman, after she had +finished the last song. She shook hands with Daniel, and said: +“It has been a beautiful hour.”</p> + +<p>“It has been one of the most beautiful hours I have ever experienced,” +said Daniel.</p> + +<p>“Farewell!”</p> + +<p>“Farewell!”</p> + +<p>The strange woman went away, leaving behind her not a trace +of anything other than the memory of a joy that grew more +fabulous as the storm-tossed years rolled by. Daniel never saw +her again, and never heard from her again.</p> + + +<h3>XVII</h3> + +<p>While the woman was singing, Gertrude had been standing down +in the hall listening. She knew every note of every song; every +melody in the accompaniment seemed to her like an old, familiar +picture. She was also aware that an artist by the grace of God +had been in the house.</p> + +<p>But how strange it was that she should find nothing unusual in +the incident. She felt that a living stream in her bosom had dried +up, leaving nothing but sand and stones in its bed. This inability +to feel, this being dead to all sensations, took the form of excruciating +pangs of conscience.</p> + +<p>“My God, my God, what has happened to me?” she sighed, +and wrung her hands.</p> + +<p>That evening she went to the Church of Our Lady, and prayed +for a long while. Her prayer did not appease her, however; she +came back home more disquieted than ever.</p> + +<p>The door of the living room was open: Daniel and Eleanore +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>were sitting by the lamp, reading together from a book. The +baby began to move; Eleanore had left the door open so that she +might be able to hear the child when it woke up. Gertrude took +the child in her arms, quieted it, and returned to the door leading +into the living room. Daniel and Eleanore had turned their backs +to the door, and were so absorbed in their reading that they were +not aware of Gertrude’s presence.</p> + +<p>A light suddenly came into Gertrude’s heart: she became conscious +of her guilt—the guilt she had been trying in vain to +fathom now for so many cruel weeks.</p> + +<p>She did not have enough of the power of love; therein lay her +guilt. She had assumed an obligation that was quite beyond her +power to fulfil: she had entered into marriage without having +the requisite strength of heart.</p> + +<p>Marriage had seemed to her like the Holy of Holies. Her +union with the man she loved seemed to her to be of equal +significance with the union with God. But when she saw that +this bond had been broken, the world was plunged into an abyss +immeasurably remote from God. And it was not her husband +who seemed to her to be guilty of infidelity; nor did she look +upon her sister as being the guilty one; it was she herself who had +been unfaithful and guilty in their eyes. She had not stood the +test; she had been tried and found wanting; her strength had not +been equal to her presumptions; God had rejected her. This +conviction became irrevocably rooted in her heart.</p> + +<p>In her union with Daniel music had become something divine; +and she saw, now this union had been broken, something in music +that was perilous, something that was to be avoided: she understood +why she was so unemotional, why her feelings had dried up and +vanished.</p> + +<p>But she wanted to make one more effort to see whether she +was entirely right in the analysis of her soul. One morning she +went to Daniel, and asked him to play a certain passage from the +“Harzreise.” She said she would like to hear the close of the +slow middle movement which had always made such an appeal to +her. Her request was made in such an urgent, anxious tone that +Daniel granted it, though he did not feel like playing. As +Gertrude listened, she became paler and paler: her diagnosis was +being corroborated with fearful exactness. What had once been +a source of ecstasy was now the cause of intense torture. The +tones and harmonies seemed to be eating into her very soul; the +pain she felt was so overwhelming, that it was only with the greatest +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>exertion that she mustered up sufficient self-control to leave the +room unaided. Daniel was dismayed.</p> + +<p>On her return to the kitchen, Gertrude heard a most peculiar +noise in her bedroom. She went in only to see that little Agnes +had crept into the corner of the room where the harp stood, and +was striking the strings with a copper spoon, highly pleased with +her actions. Gertrude was seized with a vague, nameless terror. +She took the harp into the kitchen, removed the strings from the +frame, rolled them up, put them in a drawer, and carried the +stringless frame up to the attic.</p> + +<p>“What can I do?” she whispered to herself, and looked around +in the attic with an expression of complete helplessness. She +longed for peace, and it seemed peaceful up where she was. She +stayed a while, leaning up against one of the beams, her eyes +closed.</p> + +<p>“What can I do?” That was the question she put to herself +day and night. “I can no longer be of any help to my husband; +to stand in his way merely because of the child is not right.” +Such was the trend of her argument. She saw how he was suffering, +how Eleanore was suffering, how each was suffering on account +of the other, and how both were suffering because of the despicable +vulgarity of the human race. She thought to herself that if +she were not living, everything would be right. She imagined, +indeed she was certain, that all the truth he had given her had +had the sole purpose of whitewashing a lie, by which she was to +be made to believe that her existence was a necessity to him. She +was convinced that the weight of this lie was crushing the very +life out of him. She wished to free him from it and its consequences. +But how she was to do this she did not know. She +knew that if Daniel and Eleanore could belong to each other in a +legal, legitimate way, they would be vindicated in the eyes of God +and man. But how this was to be brought about she did not +know.</p> + +<p>She sought and sought for a way out. Her ideas were vague +but persistent. She felt that she was running around in a circle, +unable to do more than stare at the centre of the circle. Every +morning at five o’clock she would get up and go to church. She +prayed with a devotion and passion that physically exhausted her +heart.</p> + +<p>One morning she knelt before the altar in unusually heart-rending +despair. She thought she heard a small voice crying out +to her and telling her to take her life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p><p>She swooned; people rushed up to her, and wet her forehead +with cold water. This enabled her to get up and go home. A +peculiarly sorrowful and dreamy expression lay on her face.</p> + +<p>She wanted to do some knitting, for she recalled that when she +was a girl she was always able to dispel care and grief by knitting. +But every stitch she made turned into the cry: “You must take +your life.”</p> + +<p>She knelt down by the cradle of little Agnes, but the child +said to her only too distinctly: “Mother, you must take your +life.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore came in. On her brow was the light of enjoyed +happiness; her whole body was happiness; her lips trembled and +twitched with happiness. But her eyes said. “Sister, you must take +your life.”</p> + +<p>Philippina stood by the kitchen stove, and whispered to the +coals: “Gertrude, you must take your life.” Her father came in, +got his dinner, expressed his thanks for it, and went out murmuring, +“Daughter, you must take your life; believe me, it will be +for the best.”</p> + +<p>If she passed by the well, something drew her to the edge; voices +called to her from the depths. From every beaker she put to her +lips to drink shone forth her image as if from beyond the tomb. +On Sunday she climbed up the Vestner Tower, and let her eyes +roam over the plains below as if in the grief of departure. She +leaned forward out of the little window with a feeling of assuaging +horror. The keeper, seeing what she was doing, rushed up, +seized her arms, and made her get back.</p> + +<p>If the cock crew, it was the crow of death; if the clock ticked, +it was the tick of death; if the wind blew, it was a breath from +beyond the grave. “You must take your life”—with this thought +the air, the earth, the house, the church, the morning, the evening, +and her dreams were full.</p> + +<p>In April Eleanore was taken down with fever. Gertrude watched +by her bedside night and day; she sacrificed herself. Daniel, +worried about Eleanore, went around in a dazed condition. When +he came to her bed he never noticed Gertrude. After Eleanore +had begun to recover, Gertrude lay down; for she was very tired. +But she could not sleep; she got up again.</p> + +<p>She went into the kitchen in her bare feet, though she did not +know why she went. It was the consuming restlessness of her +heart that drove her from her bed. Her legs were heavy with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>exhaustion, but she did not like to stay in any one place for any +length of time. Later Daniel came back from the city, and +brought her a silver buckle which he fastened to her bracelet. +Then he pressed his lips to her forehead, and said: “I thank you for +having been so good to Eleanore.”</p> + +<p>Gertrude stood as if rooted to the floor. Something seemed +to cry incessantly within her; she felt that a mortally wounded beast +was in her bosom wallowing in its blood. Long after Daniel +had gone to his room she could still be seen standing in the middle +of the floor. Wrapped in gloomy meditation, she removed the +buckle from her bracelet: she thought she saw an ugly mark where +the metal had touched her skin. She went into her room, opened +the cabinet, and hid the buckle under a pile of linen.</p> + +<p>She had only one wish: she wanted to sleep. But as soon as she +would close her eyes her heart would begin to beat with doubled, +trebled rapidity. She had to get up and walk back and forth in +the room; she was struggling for breath.</p> + + +<h3>XVIII</h3> + +<p>A few days later she went out during a pouring rain storm, +and wandered about aimlessly through the streets. Every minute +she feared—and hoped—she would fall over and become unconscious +of herself and the world about her. She passed by two +churches, the doors of which were locked. It was growing dark; +she reached the apothecary shop of Herr Pflaum, and looked +in through the glass door. Herr Seelenfromm was standing at the +counter, mixing some medicine in a mortar. She went in and +asked him whether he could not give her a narcotic. He said he +could, and asked her what it should be. “One which makes you +sleep for a long, long while,” she said, and smiled at him so as +to make him inclined to fulfil her request. It was the first smile +that had adorned her grief-stricken face for many a day. Herr +Seelenfromm was just about to suggest a remedy to her. He sat +down in a vain position so that he might avail himself of the +opportunity to flirt with her a little. The apothecary, however, +came up just then, and when he heard what Gertrude wanted, he +cast a penetrating glance at her and said: “You had better go to +the doctor, my good woman, and have him make you out a prescription. +I have had some rather disagreeable experiences with cases +of this kind.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p><p>When Gertrude had finally dragged herself home, she found +Philippina sitting by the cradle of little Agnes, rocking the child +back and forth and humming a lullaby. “Where is Eleanore?” +asked Gertrude.</p> + +<p>“Where do you think she is?” said Philippina contemptuously: +“She is upstairs with your husband.”</p> + +<p>Gertrude heard Daniel playing the piano. She raised her head +to hear what he was playing.</p> + +<p>“She told me I was to go with her to Glaishammer to get a +washwoman for you,” continued Philippina.</p> + +<p>“Ah, what do we want with a washwoman?” said Gertrude; +“we cannot afford one. It costs a great deal of money, and every +cent of money spent means a drop of blood from Daniel’s veins. +Don’t go to Glaishammer! I would rather do the washing myself!”</p> + +<p>She knew, however, at that very moment that she had done her +last washing. There was something so mournful about the light +of the lamp. Agnes’s little face looked so pale as it peeped out +from under the covers, Philippina cowered so witlessly at the floor. +But all this was only for the moment; all this she could take with +her up into a better world.</p> + +<p>She bent down over the child, and kissed it, and kissed it with +hot, burning lips. A lurk of unsoftened evil crept into Philippina’s +face. “Listen, Gertrude, listen: you are all Greek to me,” +said Philippina, “I don’t understand you.”</p> + +<p>Gertrude went over to Eleanore’s room, where she stood for a +while in the dark, trembling and thinking. At times she was +startled: she heard some one walking about, and she thought the +door would open. She could scarcely endure her impatience. +Suddenly she remembered the attic and how quiet it was up there; +there no one could disturb her. She decided to go up. On her +way she went into the kitchen, and took a thick cord from a +sugar-loaf.</p> + +<p>As she passed by Daniel’s room, she noticed that the door was +half open. He was still playing. Two candles were standing on +the piano; Eleanore was leaning up against the side of the piano. +She had on a pale blue dress that fell down over her beautiful +body in peaceful folds.</p> + +<p>Gertrude looked at the picture with wide-open eyes. There was +an inimitable urging, a reaching aloft, and a painful sinking-back in +the piece he was playing and in the way he was playing it. +Gertrude went on up without making the slightest bit of noise. It +was dark, but she found her way by feeling along with her hands.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p><h3>XIX</h3> + +<p>After a half-hour had gone by, Philippina began to wonder +where Gertrude was. She looked in the living room, then in +Eleanore’s room, and then hastened up the steps and peeped +through the open door into Daniel’s room. Daniel had stopped +playing and was talking with Eleanore. Philippina turned back. +On the stairs she met Jordan just then coming in from his evening +walk. She lighted a candle, and looked in the kitchen. Gertrude +was nowhere to be found.</p> + +<p>“It is raining; there is her raincoat, and here is her umbrella, +so she can’t have gone out,” thought Philippina to herself. She +sat down on the kitchen table, and stared before her.</p> + +<p>She was filled with an ugly, bitter suspicion; she scented a +tragedy. In the course of another half-hour, she got up, took the +lighted candle, and started out on a second search. Something +drove her all about the house: she went out into the hall, into the +various rooms, and then back to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>All of a sudden she thought of the attic. It was the expression +on Gertrude’s face the last time she kissed Agnes that made her +think of it. Was not the attic of any house, and particularly the +one in this house, the room that had the greatest attraction for her, +and that her light-fearing fancy invariably chose as the most desirable +and befitting place for her hidden actions?</p> + +<p>She went up quickly and without making the least noise. Holding +the lighted candle out before her, she stared at a rafter +from which hung a human figure dressed in woman’s clothes. +She wheeled about, uttering a stifled gurgle. A sort of drunkenness +came over her; she was seized with a terrible desire to dance. +She raised one leg, and sank her teeth deep into the nails of her +right hand. In her convulsions she had the feeling that some one +was crying out to her in a strong voice: “Set it on fire! Set it +on fire!”</p> + +<p>Near the chimney wall was a pile of letters and old newspapers. +She fell on her knees, and exclaimed: “Blaze! Blaze!” And +then, half with horror and half with rejoicing, she uttered a series +of irrational, incoherent sounds that were nothing more than +“Hu-hu, oi-oi, hu-hu, oi-oi!”</p> + +<p>The fire from the papers flared up at once, and she ran down +the steps with a roar and a bellow that are fearful to imagine, +nerve-racking to hear.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the house was a bedlam. Daniel ran up the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>steps, Eleanore close behind him. The women in the lower apartments +came running up, screaming for water. Daniel and Eleanore +turned back, and dragged a big pail full of water up the stairs. +The fire alarm was turned in, the men made their way into the +building, and with the help of many hands the flames were in time +extinguished.</p> + +<p>Jordan was the first to see the lifeless Gertrude. Standing in +smoke and ashes, he sobbed and moaned, and finally fell to the +floor as if struck on the head with an axe. The men carried +Gertrude’s body out; her clothes were still smoking.</p> + +<p>Philippina had vanished.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span><a name="ELEANORE" id="ELEANORE"></a>ELEANORE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">It</span> was all over.</p> + +<p>The visit of the doctor was over; and so was that of the +coroner. The investigations of the various boards, including that +of the fire department, the cross-examination, the taking of evidence, +the coming to a decision—all this was over.</p> + +<p>The cause of the fire remained unexplained; a guilty party +could not be found. Philippina Schimmelweis had sworn that the +fire had already started when she reached the attic. It was therefore +assumed that the suicide had knocked over a lighted candle +in her last moments.</p> + +<p>The crowd of acquaintances and close friends had disappeared; +this was over too. Hardened souls expressed their conventional +sympathy to Kapellmeister Nothafft. That a man who had carried +his head so high had suddenly been obliged to lower it in humility +awakened a feeling of satisfaction. The punished evil-doer again +gained public favour. Women from the better circles of society +expatiated at length on the question whether a relation which in +all justice would have to be designated as a criminal one while the +poor woman was living could be transformed into a legal one +after the lapse of a certain amount of time. With pimplike +generosity and match-making indulgence they decided that it +could.</p> + +<p>The funeral was also over. Gertrude was buried in St. John’s +Cemetery on a stormy day.</p> + +<p>The preacher had preached a sermon, the mourners had stood +with their hands stuffed in their coat pockets and their furs, for +it was cold. As the coffin was lowered into the grave, Jordan +cried out: “Farewell, Gertrude! Until we meet again, my child!”</p> + +<p>There was one man who crowded right up to the edge of the +grave: it was Herr Carovius. He looked over his nose glasses at +Jordan and Daniel and Eleanore. It seemed to him that the +latter, with her pale face and her black dress, was more beautiful +than the most beautiful Madonna any Italian or Spaniard had +ever immortalised on imperishable canvas.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p><p>He turned his frightened face to one side, and came very nearly +falling over the heaped-up earth by the grave.</p> + +<p>With regard to Daniel’s conduct, Pflaum, the apothecary, had +this to say: “I should have expected more grief and sorrow from +him, and not so much sullenness.”</p> + +<p>“A hard-hearted man, an exceedingly hard-hearted man,” said +Herr Seelenfromm in his grief.</p> + +<p>Daniel was severely criticised for his discourteous treatment of +the people from the City Theatre, every one of whom had come +to the funeral. When several of them shook hands with him, +he merely nodded, and blinked his eyes behind the round glasses +which he had been wearing for some time.</p> + +<p>Judge Kleinlein said: “He should be very grateful for the +Christian burial, for despite the evidence that was turned in, it +was not satisfactorily proved that the woman was in her right +mind.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore looked into the open grave. She thought: “Guilt is +being heaped upon guilt, deep, serious guilt.”</p> + +<p>All this was over now. Daniel and Eleanore and Jordan had +come back to the house.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>They felt lonely and deserted. Jordan shut himself up in his +room. It was rare now that he took his accustomed evening walks; +his coat-sleeves and the ends of his trouser legs had become more +and more frayed. He pined away; his hair became snow white, +his walk unsteady, his eye dim. But he was never ill, and he +never complained of his fate. He never said anything at the +table; he was a quiet man.</p> + +<p>Eleanore moved back up with her father, and Daniel took his +old room next to the dining room. There was all of a sudden so +much space; he was surprised that the going of a single person +could make such a vast difference.</p> + +<p>Eleanore spent the whole day with little Agnes until Philippina +came and relieved her. She also did her work close to Agnes.</p> + +<p>When she had finished her writing, she had to look after the +house. She could not cook, and had no desire to learn how, so she +had a woman come in three times a week who prepared the midday +meals. Twice a week she would prepare meals for two days, +and once a week she would get them ready for three days. She +was a modest woman who worked for very little money. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>food she cooked merely needed to be heated over, and in the +evening they always had sausage and sandwiches anyhow.</p> + +<p>It was a practical arrangement, but no one praised Eleanore +for it.</p> + +<p>At first she spent her nights in Gertrude’s room with the child; +she could not stand this, however, longer than three weeks. Either +she could not sleep, or she had such terrible dreams.</p> + +<p>Then she took to carrying the child up to her room with her +and making a little bed for it on the sofa. But the child did +not sleep so well there; Eleanore noticed that, as a result of all +the excitement and hard work, she was losing strength.</p> + +<p>Often in the night when she would take the child to quiet it—and +become so tired and uneasy—she would make up her mind to +have a talk with Daniel. But the next morning she would find it +impossible to bring up the subject. She felt that the voice of +Gertrude was admonishing her from beyond the grave and telling +her to be patient.</p> + +<p>She felt, too, that the time was drawing near when she would +succumb to over-exertion; it made her anxious. Just then Philippina +came in to help.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>When Jason Philip heard that Philippina was going to Jordan’s +daughters every day, he told her most emphatically and repeatedly +that she had to quit it. Philippina paid not the slightest attention +to him and did as she pleased.</p> + +<p>“I’ll kill you,” cried Jason Philip at the girl.</p> + +<p>Philippina shrugged her shoulders and laughed impudently.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip saw that a grown person was standing before him; +he was afraid of the evil look of his daughter.</p> + +<p>It was long before he could make out what was taking her to his +enemies. Then he learned that wherever she chanced to be, at +home, or with acquaintances, or with strangers, she was spreading +evil reports concerning Daniel and his family. This tended to +make him a bit more indulgent: he too wanted to feast his ears on +scandal from that quarter. At times he would enter into a conversation +with Philippina, and when she told him the latest news +he was filled with fiendish delight. “The day will come when I +will get back at that music-maker, you see if I don’t,” he said.</p> + +<p>Theresa was still confined to her bed. During his leisure hours +Willibald had to read to her, either from the newspapers or from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>trashy novels. When she was alone she lay perfectly quiet and +stared at the ceiling.</p> + +<p>The time finally came when Willibald left school. He went +to Fürth, where he was employed as an apprentice by a manufacturer. +There was no doubt in any one’s mind but that he +would become one of those loyal, temperate, industrious people +who are the pride of their parents, and who climb the social ladder +at the rate of an annual increase in salary of thirty marks.</p> + +<p>The one-eyed Markus entered the paternal bookshop, where he +soon familiarised himself with the novels of the world from Dumas +and Luise Mühlbach to Ohnet and Zola, and with the popular +sciences from Darwin to Mantegazza. His brain was a book +catalogue, and his mouth an oracle of the tastes displayed at the last +fair. But in reality he not only did not like the books, he regarded +all this printed matter as a jolly fine deception practised on people +who did not know what to do with their money. Zwanziger, the +clerk, had married the widow of a cheese merchant, and was running +a shop of his own on the Regensburg Chaussee.</p> + +<p>“A rotten business,” said Jason Philip at the end of each month. +“The trouble with me,” he invariably added, “is that I have been +too much of an idealist. If I had worked as hard for myself as +I have for other people, I would be a rich man to-day.”</p> + +<p>He went to the café and discussed politics. He had developed +into a perpetual grumbler; he was pleased with nothing, neither +the government nor the opposition. To hear him talk you would +have thought that the opposing parties had been forced to narrow +their platforms down to the differences between the views of +Prince Bismarck and Jason Philip Schimmelweis. When Kaiser +Wilhelm I died, Jason Philip acted as though his appointment to +the chancellorship was imminent. And when in that same memorable +year Kaiser Friedrich succumbed to his sufferings, Jason +Philip resembled the pilot on whose isolated fearlessness the rescue +of the storm-tossed ship of state depends.</p> + +<p>The born hero always finds a sphere of activity, a forum from +which to express his views. If public life has rejected him, he +goes to the café, where he is sure to find a congenial element.</p> + +<p>One day Theresa got up from the bed where she had spent +fifteen unbroken months, and seemed all of a sudden completely +recovered. The physician said it was the strangest case that +had ever come under his observation. But Jason Philip said: “It +is the triumph of a good constitution.” With that he went to the +café, drank beer, made fiery political speeches, and played skat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p><p>But Theresa left her bed not as a woman forty-six years old—that +was her age—but as a woman of seventy. She had only a +few sparsely distributed grey hairs left on her square head, her +face was full of wrinkles, her eye was hard and cold. From that +time on, however, she did not seem to age. She did not quarrel +any more, attended to her affairs in a straightforward, self-assured +way, and observed her increasing impoverishment with unexpected +calm.</p> + +<p>She lived on herring, potatoes, and coffee; it was the same diet +on which Philippina and Markus lived, with the one exception +that Markus, as the child nearest her heart, was allowed a piece +of sugar for his coffee. Jason Philip was also put on a diet: he +never dared open his mouth about it, either.</p> + +<p>Philippina stood it for a while in silence; finally she said to +her mother: “I can’t stand this chicory brew forever.”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll have to lap up water, you will,” replied Theresa.</p> + +<p>“No, I won’t,” said Philippina. “I am going to hire out.”</p> + +<p>“Well, hire out. Who cares? It’ll be one mouth less to feed.” +“Your daughter is going to hire out,” said Theresa to her husband, +when he came home that evening.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip had been playing cards that day, and had lost. +He was in a terrible humour: “She can go plumb to the Devil so +far as I am concerned.” That was his comment.</p> + +<p>The next morning Philippina sneaked up to the attic, and +drew out her cash from the hole in the chimney: it amounted +to nine hundred and forty marks, mostly in gold, which she had +exchanged in the course of years for small coins. Through the +opening in the wall the June sun fell upon her face, which, never +young and bearing the stamp of extended crime, looked like that +of a witch.</p> + +<p>She put the money in a woollen stocking, rolled it up in a knot, +stuffed it down her corset between her breasts, made the sign of +the cross, and repeated one of her drivelling formulas. Her +clothes, ribbons, and other possessions she had already packed in a +basket. This she carried down the stairs, and, without saying +good-bye to a soul, left the house.</p> + +<p>Her brother Markus was standing with sprawled legs in the +sun before the store, whistling. He caught sight of her with his +one eye, smiled contemptuously at her, and cried: “Happy +journey!”</p> + +<p>Philippina turned to him, and said: “You branded lout! You’re +going to have a lousy time of it, mark what I tell you!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p><p>In this frame of mind and body she came to Daniel, and said +to him: “I want to work for you. You don’t need to pay nothing +if you ain’t got it.”</p> + +<p>Daniel had been noticing for some time that Eleanore could +not stand the exertion required of her by the extra work.</p> + +<p>“Will you mind the baby and sleep with it?” Daniel asked. +Philippina nodded and looked down.</p> + +<p>“If you will take care of the child and act right toward it and +me, I shall be awfully grateful to you,” he said, breathing more +easily.</p> + +<p>Thereupon Philippina threw her hands to her face, and shuddered +from head to foot. She was not exactly crying; there was +something much worse, much more despairing, in what she was +doing than in mere crying. She seemed to be convulsed by some +demoniac power; a ghastly dream seemed to have seized her in a +moment of higher consciousness. She turned around and trotted +into the room where the child was playing with a wooden horse.</p> + +<p>She sat down on a foot-stool, and stared at the restless little +creature.</p> + +<p>Daniel stopped, stood perfectly still, and looked at her in a +mood of solicitous reflection.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>During a rehearsal of “Traviata,” Daniel flew into a rage at +Fräulein Varini: “Listen, pay attention to your intonation, and +keep in time. It’s enough to make a man lose his mind! What +are you squeaking up at the gallery for? You’re supposed to be +singing a song, and not whining for a little bit of cheap applause.”</p> + +<p>The lady stepped out to the foot-lights with heaving bosom. +Her offended dignity created something like the spread tail of a +peacock about her hips: “How dare you?” she exclaimed: “I give +you your choice: You can apologise or leave this place. Whatever +you do, you are going to become acquainted with the power I +have.”</p> + +<p>Daniel folded his arms, let his eyes roam over the members of +the orchestra, and said: “Good-bye, gentlemen. Since it is the +director’s place to choose between me and this lady, there is no doubt +whatever but that my term of usefulness in this position +is up. And moreover, in an institution where meat is more valuable +than music, I feel that I am quite superfluous.”</p> + +<p>The other singers had come running out from the wings, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>were standing crowded together on the stage looking down at the +orchestra. When Daniel laid down his baton and walked away, +every member of the orchestra rose as one man to his feet. It +was a voluntary and almost overwhelming expression of speechless +admiration. Though they had never loved this man, though they +had regarded him as an evil, alien kill-joy, who interfered with +their easy-going habits as musicians in that town, they nevertheless +respected his energy, admired the nobility of his intentions, and at +least had a vague idea of his genius.</p> + +<p>Fräulein Varini went into hysterics. The director was called +in. He promised Fräulein Varini immediate redress, and wrote +a letter to Daniel requesting that he offer an apology.</p> + +<p>Daniel replied in a brief note that he had no thought of changing +his plans as announced when he left the building. He +remarked that it was quite impossible for him to get along with +Fräulein Varini, that either he or she would have to quit, and that +since she intended to remain he must consider his resignation as +submitted and accepted.</p> + +<p>That evening, as he was sitting at the table with Eleanore, he +told her, after a long silence and in very few words, what had +happened. Her response to him was a look of astonishment; that +was all.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it was the only thing I could do,” said Daniel, without +looking up from his plate; “I was so heartily sick of the whole +business.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to live on, you and your child?” asked +Eleanore.</p> + +<p>His eye became even darker and harsher: “You know, God who +makes the lilies grow in the fields ... I can’t quote that old +proverb exactly, my familiarity with the Bible is nothing to +boast of.”</p> + +<p>That was all they said. The window was open; there was a +mysterious pulsing in the earth; the warm air had a disagreeable +taste, somewhat like that of sweet oil.</p> + +<p>When the clock in the tower struck ten, Eleanore got up and +said good-night.</p> + +<p>“Good-night!” replied Daniel, with bowed head.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>That is the way it was now every evening between the two; +for during the day they scarcely saw each other.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p><p>Daniel would sit perfectly still for hours at a time and brood.</p> + +<p>He could not forget. He could not forget the burning, smoking +border of the dress; nor the shoes that had some street mud on +them; nor the face with the pinched upper lip, the dishevelled +hair, the nervously knitted brow.</p> + +<p>Under the linen in the clothes press he had found the silver +buckle he had given her. “Why did she hide it there?” he asked +himself. The condition of her soul when she opened the press +and put the buckle in it became vivid, real; it became blended +with his own soul, a part of his own being.</p> + +<p>Then he discovered the harp without the strings. He took it +to his room; and when he looked at it, he had the feeling that he +was looking at a face without flesh.</p> + +<p>“Am I too melancholy, too heavy for you?” This was the +question that came to him from the irrevocable past. And that +other statement: “I will be your mother made young again.” +And that other one, too: “I, too, am a living creature.”</p> + +<p>He recalled some old letters she had written him and which he +had carefully preserved. He read them over with the care and +caution he would have exercised in studying an agreement, the +disregard or fulfilment of which was a matter of life and death. +And there were bits of old embroidery from her girlhood which +he acquired in order to lock them up and keep them as if they +were sacred relics.</p> + +<p>She stood out in his mind and his soul more vividly with each +passing hour. If he remembered how she sat and listened when +he played or discussed his works, he felt something clutching at +his throat. He recalled how she crept up to him once and +pressed her forehead against his lips: this picture was enshrouded +in the awe of an unfathomable mystery.</p> + +<p>It was not a sense of guilt that bound him to his deceased wife. +Nor was it contrition or self-reproach or the longing that finds +expression in the realisation of accumulated neglect. His fancy +warded off all thought of death; in its creative defiance it invested +the dead woman with a reality she never possessed while making +her pilgrimage in bodily form over this earth.</p> + +<p>It was not until now that she really took on form and shape +for Daniel. And this is the marvellous and the criminal feature +of the musician. Things and people are not his while they are +his. He lives with shadows; it is only what he has lost that is +his in living form. Dissociated from the moment, he reaches out +for the moment that is gone; he longs for yesterday and storms +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>to-morrow with unassimilative impatience. What he has in his +hands is withered; what lies behind him is in flower. His thinking +is a winter between two springs: the true one that is gone, and the +one that is to come of which he dreams, but when it arrives he +fails to take it to himself. He does not see; he has seen. He +does not love; he has loved. He is not happy; he was happy. +Dead, lifeless eyes open in the grave; and the living eyes that look +into the grave, see all things, understand all things, and glorify +all things, feel as if they are being deceived by death and its +duration throughout eternity.</p> + +<p>Gertrude was transformed into a melody; everything she had +done or said was a melody. Her silence was awakened, her mute +hours were made eloquent. Once he had seen her and Eleanore, +the one in a brown dress, the other in a blue, minor and major, +the two poles of his universe. Now the major arose like the night, +spread out over the lonely earth, and enveloped all things in +mourning. Grief fed on pictures that had once been daily, commonplace +occurrences, but which were illumined at present by the +brightness of visions.</p> + +<p>He saw her as she lay in bed with the two braids of hair on +either side of her face, her face itself looking like a wax figure +in an old black frame. He could see her as she carried a dish into +the room, threaded a needle, put a glass to her lips to drink, or +laced up her shoe. He could see the expression in her eye when +she cautioned, besought, was amazed, or smiled. How incomparably +star-like this eye had all of a sudden become! It was +always lifted up, always bright with inner meaning, always fixed +on him. In the vision of this eye he found one evening along +toward sunset the motif of a sonata in B minor. A gesture he +remembered—it was the time Eleanore stood before the mirror +with the myrtle wreath on her head—gave the impulse to the +stirring <i>presto</i> in the first movement of a quartette. The twenty-second +Psalm, beginning “My God, my God, why hast thou +forsaken me?” he sketched on awakening from a dream in which +Gertrude had appeared before him in perfect repose, as pale as +death, her chin resting on her hand.</p> + +<p>But it could not be said that he worked. The music he wrote +under these conditions simply gushed forth, so to speak, during +fits of fever. When the mood came over him, he would scribble +the notes on whatever lay nearest him; his haste seemed to betray +a sense of guilt. He stole from himself; tones appealed to him +as so many crimes. When the gripping melody of the twenty-second +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>Psalm arose in his mind, he trembled from head to foot, +and left the house as if lashed by Furies, though it was in the +dead of night. The recurring bass figure of the <i>presto</i> sounded +to him as though it were a gruesome, awed voice stammering out +the fatal words: “Man, hold your breath, Man, hold your breath!” +And he did hold his breath, full of unresting discomfort, while +his inspiration hacked its way through the ice-locked region into +which a passionate spell that was becoming more and more a part +of his nature had driven it.</p> + +<p>He saw humanity forsaking him; he watched the waves of isolation +widening and deepening around him. Since he felt that time +did not challenge him to effort of any kind, he took to despising +time. It came to the point where he regarded his creations as +something that never were intended for the world; he never spoke +about them or cherished the remotest desire that men hear of +them. The more completely he kept them in secret hiding, the +more real they appeared to him. The thought that a man could +write a piece of music and sell it for money appealed to him as +on a par with the thought of disposing for so much cash of his +mother or his sweetheart, of his child or one of his own limbs.</p> + +<p>He came on this account to cherish a feeling of superb disgust +for shrewd dealers who were carried along on the wings of fashion. +He took a dislike to anything that was famous; for fame smelled +of and tasted to him like money. He shuddered at the mere +thought of the chaos that arises from opinions and judgments; +the disputes as to the merits of different schools and tendencies +made him ill; he could not stand the perambulating virtuosos of +all zones and nations, the feathers they manage to make fly, the +noise they evoke, the truths they proclaim, the lies they wade +about in and make a splash. He stood aghast at the mention of a +concert hall or a theatre; he flew into a reasoned rage when he +heard a neighbour playing a piano; he despised the false devotion +of the masses, and scorned their impotent, imbecile transports.</p> + +<p>All their music smelled of and tasted to him like money.</p> + +<p>He had bought the biographies of the great masters. From +them he familiarised himself with their distress and poverty; he +read of the petty attitudes and fatuous mediocrity that stood deaf +and dumb in the presence of immortal genius. But one day he +chanced to read that Mozart’s body had been buried in a pauper’s +grave. He hurled the book from him with an oath that he would +never again touch a work of that sort. The mordant smoke of +misanthropy blew into the fire of idolisation; he did not wish to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>see any one; he left the city, and found peace only after he had +reached a lonely, unfrequented place in the forest, where he felt +he was out of the reach of human feet and safe from the eyes +of men.</p> + +<p>At night he would walk rapidly through the streets; his head +was always bowed. If he became tired, he betook himself to some +unknown café where he was sure he would not meet any of his +acquaintances. If some one whom he knew met him on the street, +he did not speak; if any one spoke to him, he was blatant and +bizarre in his replies, and hastened off as rapidly as he could, with +some caustic bit of intended wit on his loosened tongue.</p> + +<p>To enter the room where Philippina and the child were required +much effort; at first he was able to do it only with pronounced +aversion. Later he came somehow to be touched by the form and +actions of the child: he would come in a few times each day for +a minute or two only, take it up in his arms, have it poke its tiny +hands into his face or even jerk at his nose glasses; he listened +with undivided interest to its baby talk. Philippina would stand +in the corner in the meanwhile, with her eyes on the floor and her +mouth closed. He became painfully aware of his obligations to +her because of her inexplicable fidelity to him, and knew that he +would never be able to reward her for her unique and faithful +assistance. He was grieved at the same time to see the child so +motherless, so utterly without the attention that ennobles. The +child’s bright eyes, its outstretched arms hurt him: he feared the +feelings slumbering even then in its breast, and was driven away +by the thought of what might happen in the future.</p> + +<p>One morning in August he arose with the sun, went to the +kitchen and got his own breakfast, took his walking stick, and left +the house. He wanted to go to Eschenbach on foot.</p> + +<p>He walked the entire day, making only very short stops for rest. +At noon the heat became intense; he asked a peasant, who chanced +to drive up in his hay wagon, if he might ride a little. He had +no definite end in view, no plan. Something drew him on; what +it was he did not know.</p> + +<p>When he finally reached the little town it was late at night; +the moon was shining. There was not a soul on the street. The +windows of his mother’s house were all dark. He climbed up +the steps, and sat down as close to the front door as was physically +possible. He imagined he could hear his mother and the child +she had in her care breathing.</p> + +<p>It seemed so strange to him that his mother knew nothing of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>his presence. If she had known he was there, she would have +unlocked the door and looked at him in astonishment. And if +he had not felt like talking, he would have been obliged to lay +his head in her lap and weep. Nothing else was possible; he could +not speak. And yet the fear lest he talk, lest he be forced to tell +everything, took such firm hold on him that he decided to start +back home without letting his mother know that he had been +there and without having seen either her or the child. The peculiar +restlessness that had driven him away from his home and +impelled him to go on this unusual journey was silenced as soon +as he sat in the shadow of his mother’s little house.</p> + +<p>But he was so tired that he soon fell asleep. He dreamed that +the child and the old lady were standing before him, that the +former had a great bunch of grapes in her hand and the latter +a shovel and was shovelling up the earth, her face revealing a soul +of sorrows. Eva seemed to him to be much more beautiful than +she had been a year ago; he felt drawn to the child by an uncontrollable +power and a painful love that stood in a most unusual +relation to what his mother was doing. The longer his mother +shovelled in the earth the heavier his heart became, but he could +not say anything; he felt as if a glorious song were pouring forth +from his soul, a song such as he had never heard in his life. +Enraptured by its beauty, he woke up. At first he thought he +could still hear it, but it was only the splashing of the water in the +Wolfram fountain.</p> + +<p>The moon was high in the heavens. Daniel went over to the +fountain just as the night watchman came along, blew his trumpet +and sang: “Listen, all men, I wish to tell that it has struck two +from the town-hall bell.” The watchman noticed the lonely man +standing by the fountain, was startled at first, but then continued +on his rounds, repeating from time to time the words of his official +song.</p> + +<p>Often as a child Daniel had read the inscription on the base +of the Wolfram figure. Now he read the words, irradiated by the +light of the moon, and they had a totally different meaning:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Water gives to the trees their life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes with fertile vigour rife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All creatures of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By water all our eyes are purled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It washes clean man’s very soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes it like an angel, whole.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p><p>Simple words, but Daniel read them in the light of a full experience, +dipped his hands in the basin, and rubbed them over his +eyes drunk with sleep; then casting one more glance at his mother’s +house, he turned in the direction of the road leading away from +the town.</p> + +<p>Out in the fields it was too damp for him to lie down to rest. +Near an isolated farm house he found a hay rick, went up to it, +and lay down.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Every time Eleanore looked at Daniel her heart was filled with +the same anxiety. She did not understand him; she could not +comprehend a single one of his movements. Such joy as she had +arose from meditation on the past.</p> + +<p>He did not seem to be able to recall her. One word, any word, +from him would have relieved her of her anguish; but he spoke to +her precisely as he spoke to Philippina or to Frau Kütt, the woman +who came in to do the housework.</p> + +<p>It was bad enough to live with Philippina, to feel the incessant +hatred of this secretive person; to suspect that she knew things that +would not stand the light of day. But to see the child handed +over to her, treated by her as though it were her own and guarded +by her with a jealousy that made her face wrinkle with rage if +Eleanore presumed to stay with it for as much as five minutes, this +was infinitely worse.</p> + +<p>It was bad enough to have to accept with filial obedience the +society of the speechless old father who spent his days and nights +in his own mysterious way, striving without peace of any kind to +reach an unknown goal. This made it hard for Eleanore. It was +spooky in the rooms upstairs, and equally spooky in the ones downstairs. +Eleanore dreaded the coming winter. At times she felt +that her own voice had an unreal sound, and that her most commonplace +remark echoed with the gloom of unhappy premonitions.</p> + +<p>She sought refuge in the old pictures of her longings—southern +landscapes with groves and statues and a sea of supernatural blue. +But she was too mature to find enduring satisfaction in empty +dreams; she preferred, and felt it were better, to forget her grief +in the distractions of hard work. It was not until the pen fell +from her hand, weighed down with distress at the thought of so +many unadorned and unrelieved hours, that something drew her +back into the realm of spirits and visions. And then it was that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>she sought support, that she endeavoured to get a footing, in the +world of actual objects round about her.</p> + +<p>She would take a pear, and think herself, so to speak, into the +very heart of this bit of fruit, just as if it were possible to find +protection, shelter in so small a space. Or she would take a piece +of coloured glass, hold it in her hand, and look at the world of +reality about her, hoping that the commonplace would in this +way be made to seem more beautiful. Or she looked into the +burning fire, and studied, with a smile on her face, the romantic +tongues of flames. Or she had a longing to look at old pictures: she +went to the Germanic Museum, and spent an entire morning there, +standing before a Crucifixion, a Last Supper, her eye and her heart +filled with flowing emotion.</p> + +<p>Her love for flowers became stronger than ever, and she began +to study them. The most of them she picked herself; those that +grew only in gardens she bought from the florists, paying very +little for them. After she had made several purchases, they refused +to take any more money from her; they gave her just as many +flowers as she wanted. She took them home, and made bouquets +out of them.</p> + +<p>One evening she was frightened by Philippina, who came rushing +up to her just as she was arranging her flowers and told her +that little Agnes had a high fever. Eleanore went out and got +the doctor, who immediately reassured her. As she returned, her +astonishment was intense and unusual. Reaching the door, her eyes +fell on the flowers: they seemed wonderfully beautiful to her; the +harmony and play of their colours was so striking that she involuntarily +looked around in the illusion that a stranger had called +during her absence, brought the flowers, and arranged them in +their artistic bouquets.</p> + +<p>In the meantime poverty was haunting the house in very tangible +form. Neither the butcher nor the baker was willing any +longer to deliver goods on credit. It was quite impossible for +Eleanore to support five people with her clerical work, to say +nothing of keeping them in clothes and paying the rent. However +hard she might work, the most she could do was to get enough +money for the barest necessities. Her cares multiplied day by day.</p> + +<p>She had always been an implacable foe of debts; she would not +make them. But after all, the people could not starve, and so +she had to contract debts now. Bitter humiliations were unavoidable; +she looked into the future with untempered dread. She +racked her brain trying to devise plans, deplored her weakness +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>and the gaps in her training, bemoaned the neglect both she and +Daniel were suffering, and was quite disturbed to see that Philippina’s +heart was filled with joy at the thought that the destitution +of the household with its accompanying mental anguish was rapidly +increasing.</p> + +<p>Twice a day the druggist sent in his bill; finally he came in +person. It was along toward evening when he rang. Philippina +treated him so impolitely that he became impudent, and made such +a noise that the people on the lower floors came out into the hall +and leaned over the railing of the stairs. Eleanore ran down and +stood before the man with folded hands. Jordan also left his +room and looked on, sighing.</p> + +<p>Others came in and started trouble. Philippina came up to +Eleanore, and, with a smile on her face as if she were going to tell +of some great good fortune that had come to the family, said: +“There’s another down there, Eleanore; come down and give him +a piece of your mind, or I’m thinking he’s going to call the police.”</p> + +<p>After quiet had been restored, Philippina began to rage and +rant: “Daniel’s a dunderhead. He could live like a Kaiser if he’d +mix with the right people. I know a woman who is lousy with +money, and she’s going to git a lot more; but Daniel, the poor bloke, +ain’t got a ghost of an idea as to how to work people.” She +laughed furiously; or, in order to ventilate her spiteful rage, she +picked up some object and smashed it to pieces on the floor.</p> + +<p>Eleanore did not hear what she had said. Her hope was gone. +Daniel had been out of work for three months: who could explain +his strange inactivity? The rent would be due in a short while, +and then what?</p> + +<p>One morning she went to Daniel’s room and said: “Daniel, we +are out of money.”</p> + +<p>He was sitting at the table reading; he looked at her as if he +had to think for a while who she was: “Just have patience,” he +said, “you are not going to starve.”</p> + +<p>“I am doing all that I possibly can, Daniel,” continued Eleanore; +“but tell me, please, how are you planning to keep the house +going? I see no way out. Tell me, Daniel, tell me, please, what +you are going to do.”</p> + +<p>“A musician must be poor, Eleanore,” replied Daniel, and looked +at her with eyes that seemed to be frozen.</p> + +<p>“But he has got to live, I should think.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t live from husks alone, and I am not going to work +my head off for husks.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p><p>“Daniel, oh Daniel, where is your mind? And where is your +heart?” cried Eleanore in despair.</p> + +<p>“Where I should have been long ago,” he replied, without the +shadow of a ray of hope. He got up, and turning his face away +from Eleanore, said in a half-audible voice: “Let’s have no argument, +no cogency, no urgency. Not now! Not now when I am +creeping along on the earth with such light as is left me, trying to +grope my way out of the hole. A man doesn’t give up the ghost so +quickly as all that, Eleanore. The stomach is a very elastic piece +of skin.”</p> + +<p>He went into the other room, sat down at the piano, and struck +a slow-moving bass chord.</p> + +<p>Eleanore turned to the wall, and buried her feverish brow in +her hands.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>It was not in Eleanore’s nature to submit to a misfortune without +first having made every possible effort to evade it.</p> + +<p>She wrote for from fourteen to sixteen hours a day, with the +result that she had finished all that was asked of her long before +her time was really up.</p> + +<p>Then she looked around for a better paying position; it was in +vain. Women had never been paid well, she had no recommendations, +no personal connections, nothing on which she could depend +or to which she might refer.</p> + +<p>Finally it occurred to her that she might make some money out +of her flowers. She went to the florist at St. Lorenz Place, taking +with her a garland of carnations and mignonettes she had made the +day before. She told the florist she knew a great deal about +flowers and had had considerable experience in handling them.</p> + +<p>The man laughed at her, and told her he could find no sale for +that kind of things, and that, even if he could, he would have to +ask so little for them that it would not pay her to make them. +Eleanore took her flowers back home; she was profoundly discouraged. +She saw herself how perishable flowers were; these withered +that same evening. Nothing could be expected from that source.</p> + +<p>She had not noticed that, as she left the florist shop, a man on +the other side of the street had stopped and looked at her. He +was a haggard young individual with a pale, peevish expression on +his face, a man with a chin the unimpressiveness of which was +hidden behind a Vandyke beard.</p> + +<p>He stood for a long while and looked at Eleanore as she walked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>down the street. There could be no doubt but that something in +her general bearing and her face had drawn his attention to her; +had awakened in him a feeling that was nobler than mere curiosity +or the satisfaction an idler derives from gaping.</p> + +<p>The young man finally began to move; he walked rather stiffly +across the square and entered the florist’s shop. A few minutes +later the florist, a man past middle age, with the typical toper’s +nose, threw open his door and removed his cap, actions which in +addition to his fawning bow were unmistakable proof to the merchants +on either side of him that it was no ordinary sale he had +just made. The young man went his way, ambling along in shiftless +indifference to where he was or the time of day.</p> + +<p>The next morning the florist’s errand boy came to Eleanore, +and told her that his chief had something very important to say +to her, and that she should come at once. Eleanore followed the +call without delay. As she entered the shop, the florist greeted +her with unusual politeness, and told her that a man who took a +special fancy to the kind of flowers she had shown him the day +before had been there and placed an order for two such bouquets, +or even three, a week at twenty marks each. He advised her +to exercise all diligence in making the flowers and said that when +such a rain of good fortune descended upon one it was wise to +let other things take care of themselves. The only condition the +florist imposed on her was absolute silence. The customer did not +wish his name to be known, nor did he wish to be seen. He +remarked casually that there was manifestly some whim or crotchet +back of the man’s action, such as is so frequently the case with +aristocratic people.</p> + +<p>Who was happier than Eleanore! She never bothered herself +for a minute about the illogical and legendary element in the +offer of a man who only a day before had appeared so shrewd +and cautious. She drank in every word of the florist’s detailed +statement, and merely believed that in this city, among its inhabitants, +there was an eccentric fellow who was willing to pay +such a princely price for her flowers simply because he liked +flowers and was pleased with the way she put them up. Though +she had not been spoiled by fortune, the transformation that had +suddenly taken place in her circumstances awakened in her not +the slightest suspicion or surprise. She was too happy to be distrustful, +too grateful to become inquisitive. Her thoughts were +on Daniel, who, she felt, was saved. The whole way home she +smiled to herself as if lost in dreams.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p><p>Evening after evening she sat with the flowers she had gathered +in the forenoon from the forests, the meadows, and the gardens +out by the city fortress, where an old gardener went with +her and picked out the choicest specimens for her. He had a +crippled son who fell in love with Eleanore and always stood +in the door and smiled at her when she came. He promised +he would get her flowers from the green house during the +winter.</p> + +<p>The butcher was paid, the baker was paid; the druggist was +paid, and so was the rent. Philippina shook her head, and swore +there was something wrong. She was convinced that it would +all come out some day, even if you had to scratch the dung hill +to get at the secret. She told the people about a ghost that carried +on every night up in the attic; and once when the moon was +shining she came running into the room and swore that a bony +finger had rapped on the window.</p> + +<p>Eleanore bound roses and gilliflowers, tulips and pansies, mosses, +ferns, and what-not into beautiful tapestried pictures, or wound +them into wreaths and garlands. She gave herself up to this novel +occupation with the sacrificial love of a woman of her type; and +at times she became dizzy from so much fragrance. But this mattered +not. She arranged her flowers; and then she would lean out +of the window, and sing gently into the night.</p> + +<p>Daniel was ignorant of what she was doing; he had not troubled +himself about the distressing poverty of past weeks; he did not +concern himself now with their abundance; where it came from +he never asked.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Eberhard von Auffenberg had returned to the city shortly after +the death of Gertrude Nothafft. The last large sum he had +received from Herr Carovius, now nearly a year ago, he had almost +used up. He found Herr Carovius quite changed in his attitude +toward him. Herr Carovius declared that he was bankrupt, that he +could not get any more money for him. Instead of complaining +or boasting, or flattering his princely friend, or trying to incite +him to activity of some kind, as he had been accustomed to do, he +wrapped himself in a silence that could not be regarded as a +favourable omen.</p> + +<p>Eberhard had no desire to beg. Herr Carovius’s personality was +so disagreeable to him that he refused to investigate the cause of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>his novel behaviour. He let his thoughts take their own course; +and they drifted into other channels.</p> + +<p>The gossip afloat concerning Eleanore had naturally reached his +ears. Herr Carovius had seen to it that there was no lack of +insinuations, either written or oral. But Eberhard had ignored +them. Offensive insults that had dared attach themselves to +Eleanore seemed to him as incredible as litter from the street on +the radiant moon.</p> + +<p>One day he had to call on Herr Carovius because of a note that +had been protested. They discussed the affair in a dry, business-like +way, and then, all of a sudden, Herr Carovius fixed his piercing +eyes on the Baron, walked around the table time after time, +dressed in his sleeping gown, and told, without the omission of a +single detail, of the lamentable death of Daniel Nothafft’s young +wife.</p> + +<p>He became highly excited; why, it would be hard to say. “Let +us hope that the Kapellmeisterette will come to his senses now,” +he cried in a falsetto voice. “He is already on the point of starvation; +ah, believe me, he is nearly done for. It will be necessary +to take up a collection for the unrecognised genius. He has already +put one of his women in the grave, the other is still kicking. +By the way, how do you like her, the angel? Are you not a bit +sorry for the neat little halo that now hangs like a piece of castoff +clothing on the bedpost of an adulteress? Of course, geniuses are +allowed to do as they please. O Eleanore, bloody lie that you are, +you hypocritical soft, sneaking, slimy lie—Eleanore!”</p> + +<p>With that Eberhard stepped up very calmly to the unleashed +demon in pajamas, seized him by the throat, and held him with such +a fierce and unrelenting grip that Herr Carovius sank to his knees, +while his face became as blue as a boiled carp. After this he was +remarkably quiet; he crept away. At times he tittered like a +simpleton; at times a venomous glance shot forth from under his +eyelids. But that was all.</p> + +<p>Eberhard poured some water in a basin, dipped his hands in it, +dried them, and went away.</p> + +<p>The picture of the whining man with the puffed and swollen +eyes and the blue face was indelibly stamped on Eberhard’s memory. +He had felt a greedy, voluptuous desire to commit murder. He +felt he was not merely punishing and passing final judgment on +his own tormentor and persecutor, but on the hidden enemy of +humanity, the arch-criminal of the age, the destroyer of all noble +seed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p><p>And yet the exalted outburst of Herr Carovius had precisely the +effect that Eberhard had least expected. His confidence in Eleanore’s +innocence had been shaken. There may have been in Herr +Carovius’s voice, despite the slanderous wrath with which his cowardly +tongue was coated, something that sounded truer than the +wretch himself suspected. Eberhard saw just then, for the first +time in his life, the adored figure of the girl as a human being +like all other human beings; and as if through a distant vision he +experienced in his heart what had taken place.</p> + +<p>His illusions were destroyed.</p> + +<p>In his soul he had gone through the trials of renunciation long +ago. His passionate wishes of former times had gone through +a process of weakening from loss of blood. He had learned to +bow to the inevitable; he had made a special effort to acquire this +bit of earthly wisdom. When he surveyed the life he had lived +in the past five years, it resembled, despite its flux and the incessant +change from city to city and country to country, a sojourn +in a room with closed doors and drawn shades.</p> + +<p>When he had returned to the city, which he loved simply +because Eleanore lived in it, he had had no intention of reminding +Eleanore of the expiration of the time mutually agreed upon. +He felt that it would be a banal display of poor taste to appear +before her once again as an awkward, jilted suitor, and try to reconnect +the thread where it had been so ruthlessly broken five +years ago. He had intended not to disturb her or worry her in +any way. But to go to her and speak with her, that had been the +one bright ray of hope in all these empty years.</p> + +<p>After the scene with Herr Carovius he decided quite firmly to +keep away from Eleanore.</p> + +<p>His ready cash had shrunk to a few hundred marks. He discharged +his servants, disposed of some of his jewelry, and rented +one of those little houses that are stuck on the rocks up by the +castle like so many wasp nests. The house he took had been +occupied before him by the Pfragners, and with its three rooms +was not much larger than a fair-sized cage in a menagerie. But +he had taken it into his head to live there, and that was all there +was to it. He bought some old furniture, and adorned the +slanting walls of the dilapidated barracks with such pictures as he +had.</p> + +<p>One evening there was a knock at the green door of the cottage. +Eberhard opened, and saw Herr Carovius standing before +him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p><p>Herr Carovius entered the Baron’s doll house, looked around in +astonishment, and, pale as a sheet, said: “So help me God, it seems +to me you are trying to play the rôle of a hermit. This won’t +do; this is no place for a Baron; I will not stand for it.”</p> + +<p>Eberhard reached for the book he had been reading, a volume +of Carl du Prel, and read on without replying to Herr Carovius +or even taking notice of the fact that he was present.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius tripped from one foot to the other. “Perhaps +the Baron will be so good as to take a look at his account,” he +said in a beseeching tone. “I am in a tight place. My capital is +gone, and my debts in the shape of interest have been swelling +like the Pegnitz in the spring of the year. Would you like to +know what I have been living on for the last three months? I +have been living on turnips, potato peelings, and brick cheese; that +has been my daily diet; and I have submitted to it for the sake of +my Baron.”</p> + +<p>“I am not a bit interested in what you have been eating,” said +the Baron arrogantly, and kept on reading.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius continued with an imbecile sulk: “When you left +me recently because of that little quarrel we had about the Goose +Man, it never occurred to me that you were going to take the +matter so seriously. Lovers like to be teased, I thought. He’ll come +back, I thought, he’ll come back just as sure as laughter follows +tickling. Well, I was mistaken. I thought you were of a more +gentle disposition, and that you would be more indulgent with an +old friend. Yes, we make mistakes sometimes.”</p> + +<p>Eberhard remained silent.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius sighed, and sat down timidly on the narrow edge +of the sofa that stood next to the whitewashed wall. He sat there +for almost an hour in perfect silence. Eberhard appreciated +neither the ridiculous nor the fantastic element in the conduct of +his guest. He read on.</p> + +<p>And then, all of a sudden, Herr Carovius sprang to his feet, +took his wallet from his pocket, drew out a thousand-mark note, +and laid it, together with a blank receipt, across the page Eberhard +was reading. Before the Baron could recover from his amazement +he had already disappeared, closing the door behind him. +The sound of his footsteps on the street could be heard in the +room; but he was gone.</p> + +<p>What rare living creatures there are, O World, and what rare +dead ones, too! This is the thought that passed through Eberhard’s +mind.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p><h3>IX</h3> + +<p>That two men as radically different by nature as Eberhard and +Daniel chanced to meet and be drawn together at the very period +of their lives when both had voluntarily renounced human society +was due to one of those decrees of Providence that contain in +them either a law of crystallisation or the attraction of polar +forces, however much they may seem to be matters of pure chance.</p> + +<p>Their coming together took place on the day after Daniel had +gone to Eschenbach. At the break of day, Daniel had decided +to return by way of Schwabach, both for the sake of variety +and because this was the shorter route. The sun was hotter +than on the day before; and when it had reached the height of +its ability to dry up the land and scorch a human being, Daniel lay +down in the forests. Late in the afternoon, just as he was approaching +Schwabach, great black clouds began to gather in the +West; a fearful storm was evidently to be expected. Heavy streaks +of lightning flashed across the sky; and although Daniel tried to +hasten his steps, the storm overtook him. Before he could reach the +shelter of a house, he was wet to the skin from head to foot.</p> + +<p>The rain came down in torrents. He waited a long while, and +then had to start out in it again, arriving finally at the station +shivering with cold. As he went to buy his ticket he noticed a +lean, haggard, unusual looking individual standing at the ticket +window. It is quite probable that, vexed by his uncomfortable +condition, Daniel treated him none too courteously; he pushed up +against him, whereupon the man turned around, and Daniel recognised +the young Baron, Eberhard von Auffenberg. Eberhard in +turn recognised Daniel. It is unlikely that there was at that time +another face in the world which could belong so completely to +just one person as that of Daniel.</p> + +<p>The Baron had been attracted to Schwabach by his affection for +a certain person there, an affection he had preserved from the +days of his childhood. There lived in Schwabach at the time a +woman who had been his nurse. Her undivided and resigned love +for him was touching. She was as proud of him as she might have +been had she been able to say that in him she had been responsible +for the childhood training of the noblest specimen of manhood +known to human history. And he was fond of her; the stories +she told him he could still recall, and he did recall them frequently +and with pleasure. She had married the foreman of a tin mill, +and had sons and daughters of her own. Eberhard had been planning +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>for years to visit her. This visit had now been paid. But +Eberhard could not say that he had derived extraordinary pleasure +from it: it had taken an inner figure from his soul. And, on the +other hand, whether the nurse felt, on seeing the tall, lank, stiff, +and ill-humoured foster son, that enraptured charm she so much +liked to conjure up before her imagination, is a question that had +better remain unanswered.</p> + +<p>When Eberhard became aware of the condition in which Daniel +then found himself, his feelings of chivalry were moved. With +the dauntless courage of which he was capable, he subdued the +apathy he had cherished toward Daniel ever since he first came to +know him, and to which actual detestation and disquieting jealousy +had been added a few weeks ago. “You have been out in the +rain,” said Eberhard courteously, but with a reserve that was rigid +if not quite forbidding or impenetrable.</p> + +<p>“I look like it, don’t I?” said Daniel with a scowl.</p> + +<p>“You will catch cold if you are not careful. May I offer you +my top coat?” continued Eberhard more courteously. He felt as +if he could see the figure of Eleanore rising up behind Daniel, that +she was quite surrounded by flowers, and that she was smiling at +him in joy and gratitude. He bit his lips and blushed.</p> + +<p>Daniel shook his head: “I am accustomed to all kinds of weather. +Thank you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, at least wrap this around your neck; the water is +running down your back.” Thereupon Eberhard reached him a +white silk kerchief he drew from the pocket of his coat. Daniel +make a wry face, but took the kerchief, threw it about his neck, +and tied it in a knot under his chin.</p> + +<p>“You are right,” he admitted, and drew his head down between +his shoulders: “It all reminds me of a good warm bed.”</p> + +<p>Eberhard stared at the locomotive of the in-coming train. +“Plebeian,” he thought, with inner contempt.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he joined this same plebeian in the third-class carriage, +though he had bought a ticket for first class. Was it the +white silk kerchief that so suddenly attracted him to the plebeian? +What else could it have been? For during the entire journey +they sat opposite each other in absolute silence. It was a remarkable +pair: the one in a shabby, wet suit with a hat that looked +partly as though it belonged to a cheap sign painter, and partly as +though it were the sole head gear of a gypsy bard, and with a +big pair of spectacles from which the eyes flashed green and unsteady; +the other looking as though he had just stepped out of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>bandbox, not a particle of dust on his clothing, in patent leather +slippers, English straw hat, and with an American cigarette in his +mouth.</p> + +<p>Next to them sat a peasant woman with a chicken basket on her +lap, a red-headed girl who held the hind part of pig on her knees, +and a workman whose face was bandaged.</p> + +<p>At times they looked at each other. If they chanced to catch +each other’s eye, the Baron would at once look down, and Daniel, +bored as he was, would gaze out of the window at the rain. But +there must have been something unusually communicative and +mutually intelligent in the few glances with which they involuntarily +honoured each other during the journey; for when the train +pulled into the station, they left together, and walked along the +street quite peacefully, side by side, just as if it were to be taken +as a matter of fact that they would remain in each other’s company.</p> + +<p>Man is a gregarious animal; given the right conditions, one man +will seek out the company of another. Neither defiance nor reserve +is of the slightest avail; there is something that conquers the +strongest man when he finds another who will yield. Then it is +that what was formerly regarded as contentment with loneliness is +unmasked and shown to be nothing more than ordinary self-deception.</p> + +<p>“I presume you wish to go home and change your clothes,” said +Eberhard, standing on the street corner.</p> + +<p>“I am already dry,” said Daniel, “and I really have no desire to +go home. Over there on Schütt Island is a little inn called +the Peter Vischer. I like it because it is frequented only by old +people who talk about old times, and because it is situated on a +bridge, so that you have the feeling you are in a ship floating around +on the water.”</p> + +<p>Eberhard went along. From eight o’clock till midnight they sat +there opposite each other. Their conversation was limited to such +remarks as, “It is really quite comfortable here.”—“It seems to +have stopped raining.”—“Yes, it has stopped.”—“That old white-bearded +man over by the stove who is doing so much talking is a +watchmaker from Unschlitt Place.”—“So? He looks pretty +husky.”—“He is said to have fought in the battle of Wörth.”—And +so their remarks ran.</p> + +<p>When they separated, Eberhard knew that Daniel would again +be at the Peter Vischer on Wednesday of the following week, and +Daniel knew that he would find the Baron there.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p><h3>X</h3> + +<p>Philippina was on her knees by the hearth, cleaning out the +ashes; Eleanore was sitting by the kitchen table, adding up the +week’s expenses in a narrow note-book.</p> + +<p>“You ought-a git married, Eleanore,” said Philippina, as she +blew on a hot coal, “’deed you ought; it’s the right time for +you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, leave me alone,” said Eleanore angrily.</p> + +<p>Philippina crouched still lower on the hearth: “I mean well by +you, I do,” she said. “You’re simply killing yourself here. With +your white skin and sugary eyes—uhm, uhm! You bet if I had +’em like yours I’d git one. Men are all as dumb as shoats outside +of a sty.”</p> + +<p>“Keep quiet,” said Eleanore, and went on counting: “Seven from +fifteen leaves eight....”</p> + +<p>“An angel has made your bed,” interrupted Philippina with a +giggle. “I know a fellow,” she went on, her face becoming rather +sour, “he’s just the right one. Money? whew! He’s stuck on +you too, believe me! If I wuz to go to him and say, Eleanore +Jordan is willing, I believe the old codger would give me a bag of +gold. Cross my heart, Eleanore, and he’s a fine man too. He can +play the piano just as good as Daniel, if not better. When he +plays you can see the sparks fly.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore got up, and closed the book. “Do you want me to +give you a present for finding me a man, Philippina?” she asked, +with a sympathetic smile. “And you are trying to sound me? Go +on, you fool.”</p> + +<p>“Come wind and blow my fire hot, so that my soup be not +forgot,” whispered Philippina with a gloomy face.</p> + +<p>Eleanore left the kitchen and went upstairs. Her heart was +full of longing; it was in truth almost bursting with longing.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>It was at the beginning of October that Daniel for the first time +visited Eberhard in his doll house up by the castle.</p> + +<p>They had met each other in the Peter Vischer on the evening +agreed upon, but there was a special party there that evening, a +sort of a clam-bake; the place was crowded; the noise was disagreeable, +so that they left much earlier than they had intended.</p> + +<p>They walked along in silence until they reached the Town Hall, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>when Eberhard said: “Won’t you come up and sit awhile with me?” +Daniel nodded.</p> + +<p>Eberhard lighted the six candles of a chandelier in his diminutive +room. Seeing that Daniel was surprised, he said: “There is +nothing I hate worse than gas or oil. That is light; gas and oil +merely give off illuminated stench.”</p> + +<p>For a while there was complete silence in the room; Daniel had +stretched out on the sofa.</p> + +<p>“Illuminated stench,” he repeated with a smile of satisfaction. +“That is not bad; it is the new age in which we are living. I +believe they call it <i>fin de siècle</i>. The day when things flourish is +gone; everything has to be manufactured now. Men have become +Americans, gruesomely sobered by the intoxication of doing +a big business; women have lost their nicety of instinct; the cities +have become colossal steam engines; everybody, young and old, is +on his belly adoring the so-called wonders of science, just as if +it really meant anything to humanity that a loafer in Paris can +sip his morning coffee and crunch his rolls while reading that the +Pope spent a restful night, or that a gun has been invented which +will send a bullet through fourteen people one after another, +whereas the best record up to the present had been only seven to +a shot. Who can create anything, who can draw anything from his +soul under such conditions? It is madness, it is immoral discipline.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know; I think a man can draw something from +within his soul,” said the Baron, in whose face a bored, peeved +expression gave way to one of suspense. “It is possible, for example, +to conjure the invisible spirit into visibility.”</p> + +<p>Daniel, who had not yet suspected that the Baron was, in a way, +speaking from another country and in a strange tongue, continued: +“The whole supply of interest and enthusiasm at the disposal of +the nation has been used up. The venerable creations of days +gone by still have nominal value; that is, they are still gaped at +and praised, but creative, reproductive, and moulding power they +no longer have. Otherwise hocus-pocus alone prospers, and he +who does forgive it is not forgiven. But life is short; I feel it +every day; and if you do not attend to the plant, it soon withers +and dies.”</p> + +<p>“It is not only hocus-pocus,” replied Eberhard, who was now +completely transformed, though he did not grasp the painful +indignation of the musician. “You see, I have associated but very +little with men. My refuge has been the realm of departed and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>invisible spirits who take on visible form only when a believing +soul makes an unaffected appeal to them. It was my task to de-sensualise +and de-materialise myself; then the spirits took on shape +and form.”</p> + +<p>Daniel straightened up, and saw how pale the Baron had become. +It seemed to him that they were both quite close together, +and at the same time poles removed from each other. He could +not refrain however from taking up the thread of his thought. +“Yes, yes,” he exclaimed with the same short, jerky laugh that +accompanied the beginning of the conversation, “my little spirits +also demand faith, credulity, and whine and cry for form and +shape. You have expressed yourself in an admirable way, Baron.”</p> + +<p>“And have you given up in final resignation with regard to +your spirits?” asked Eberhard, in a serious tone.</p> + +<p>“Resignation? To what? Of what? Do you imagine that +is necessary in my case? I am the counterpart of Cronos. My +children devour me; they devour my living body. I conjure up +spirits and endow them with flesh and blood, and in return for +what I do they convert me into a shadow. They are rebellious +fellows, I tell you, quite without mercy. I am supposed to arouse +a citizenry on their behalf that is petrified with indifference. +The very thing, or things, that offend and disgust me, I am supposed +to take up and carry about on an unencumbered shoulder. +I am supposed to be their prostitute and offer them my body at a +price. I am supposed to be their retail grocer and haggle in their +behalf. There is something inspiring about a struggle, and when +the enemy is worthy of one’s steel there is a distinct pleasure in +entering the fray. But my little spirits want to be pampered and +have a lot of attention paid them. The hate, consequently, that +is being dammed up within me is possibly nothing but rage at my +fruitless wooing. No, mine is not an honest hate, because I long +to get at every ragged beggar who will have nothing to do with +my spirits, because my entire life consists in pleading for an audience +with people who do not care to listen, and scraping together +pennies of love from people who cannot love, because two or three +are not enough for me, because I must have thousands and am +nothing if I don’t have thousands, and pine away in anguish and +distress if I cannot imagine that the whole world is keeping step +with my pace and keeping in time with the swing of my baton. +I can despise Mushroom Mike who lies down by his wife at night +drunk as a fool, and to whom the name of Beethoven is an empty +sound; Jason Philip Schimmelweis makes me laugh when he looks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +me in the face and says, I don’t give a damn for all your art. +And yet there is humanity in such people, and so long as this is +true I must have them; I must convince them, even if my heart is +torn from my breast in the attempt. Would you call this life? +This digging-up of corpses from the graves, and breathing the +breath of life into them so that they may dance? And doing it +with the consciousness that this moment is the only one? I am; +I exist; here is the table, there are the wax candles, and over there +sits a man; and when I have stopped talking everything is different, +everything is as if a year had passed by, and everything +is irrevocable. Show me a way to humanity, to men, and then +I will believe in God.”</p> + +<p>The Baron’s head swam; his brain felt close; it seemed to be +sultry, stuffy in his skull. He could not help but think of certain +exciting meetings where the people had sat in the dark in trembling +expectancy and then suddenly heard a voice from beyond the +tomb at the sound of which the marrow froze in their bones. He +hardly dared look at the place where Daniel was sitting. The +words of the musician caused him infinite pain: there lay in them +a greediness, a shamelessness, and a gruesomeness that filled him +with terror.</p> + +<p>He could almost have asked: And Eleanore? And Eleanore?</p> + +<p>But however much he felt repelled, owing to his training, association, +and general views of life, there was nevertheless something +about the whole situation before which he bowed. He could not +have said precisely what it was, but it seemed to be a compromise +between fear and convulsion.</p> + +<p>As he was pondering over it all, he heard a rattling at the window. +He looked up, and saw the face of Herr Carovius pressed +so tightly against the pane that his nose was as flat as a pancake, +while his glasses looked like two opalescent grease spots on the +water.</p> + +<p>Daniel also looked up; he too saw the face of Herr Carovius, +then distorted with wrath and filled with threats. He looked at +the Baron in amazement; the latter got up and said: “You will have +to pardon the annoyance; I forgot to draw the blinds.”</p> + +<p>With that he went to the window, and pulled down the dark +shade over the face of Herr Carovius.</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>That same night, just as Daniel was crossing the hall of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>apartment, he detected a strong scent of flowers. He had smelt +them before, but they had never seemed to be so fragrant as at +present. Because of the season of the year, the sensation was all +the more pronounced and unusual.</p> + +<p>He sniffed around for a while, and then saw that the door to +Eleanore’s room was open: her light was shining out on the stairs.</p> + +<p>When Daniel was not at home of an evening, Eleanore always +kept her door open so that she could hear when he came in. +Daniel was unaware of this; he had never seen the light on any +previous night.</p> + +<p>He thought for a moment, then locked the door, and went up +the stairs. But Eleanore must have heard his approaching footsteps; +for she stepped hastily out into the vestibule, and said with evident +embarrassment: “Please stay downstairs, Daniel; Father is asleep. +If you wish I will come down to the living room.”</p> + +<p>She did not wait for his answer, but went into her room, got +the table lamp, and followed Daniel to the living room. Daniel +closed the window, and shook as if he were cold; for it was a cool +night, and there was no fire in the stove.</p> + +<p>“What is this I smell?” he asked. “Have you so many flowers +up in your room?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have some flowers,” replied Eleanore, and blushed.</p> + +<p>He looked at her rather sharply, but was disinclined to make +any further inquiry, or he was not interested in knowing what this +all meant. He walked around the room with his hands in his +pockets.</p> + +<p>Eleanore had sat down on a chair; she never once took her +eyes off Daniel.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Daniel,” she said suddenly, and the violin tone of her +voice lifted him from his mute and heavy meditations, “I know +now what Father is doing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what is the old man doing?” asked Daniel distractedly.</p> + +<p>“He is working at a doll, Daniel.”</p> + +<p>“At a doll? Are you trying to poke fun at me?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore, whose cheeks had turned pale, began to tell her story: +“Yesterday afternoon, Father took advantage of the beautiful +weather, and went on a walk for the first time in a long while. +During his absence, I went to his room to straighten it up a little. I +noticed that the door to the large cabinet was not closed as usual, +but was standing ajar. He probably forgot to lock it. I did not +suspect anything, and knew that there was no harm in what I +was going to do, so I opened the door, and what did I see? A +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>big doll, about the size of a four-year-old child, a wax figure with +big eyes and long, yellow hair. But there were no clothes on it: +the lower part of the back and the front from the neck to the +legs had been removed. Inside, there where a person’s heart and +entrails are, was a network of wheels and screws and little tubes and +wires, all made of real metal.”</p> + +<p>“That is strange, really strange. Well?”</p> + +<p>“He is making something,” continued Eleanore, “that much is +clear. But if I could tell you how I felt when I saw the thing! +I never felt so sad in my life. I have shown him so little love, +just as Fate has been so unlovely to him. And everything—the +air and the light and the people and how one feels towards the +people and how they feel towards you, all seemed to me to be so +hopelessly without love that I could not help it: I just sat down +before that doll and cried. The poor man! The poor old +man!”</p> + +<p>“Strange, really strange,” repeated Daniel.</p> + +<p>After a while, as if conscious of his guilt, he took a seat by the +table. Eleanore however got up, went to the window, and leaned +her forehead against the glass.</p> + +<p>“Come here to me, Eleanore,” said Daniel in a changed tone +of voice.</p> + +<p>She came. He took her hand and looked into her face. “How +in the world have you been keeping the house going all this +time?” he asked, viewing the situation in the light of his guilty +conscience.</p> + +<p>Eleanore let her eyes fall to the floor. “I have done my writing, +and I have had considerable success with the flowers. I have +even been able to save a little money. Don’t look at me like that, +Daniel. It was nothing wonderful I did; you have no reason to +feel especially grateful to me.”</p> + +<p>He drew her down on his knees, and threw his arms around her +shoulders. “You probably think I have forgotten you,” he said +sorrowfully, and looked up, “that I have forgotten my Eleanore. +Forget my Eleanore? My spirit sister? No, no, dear heart, you +have known for a long while that we have begun our common +pilgrimage—for life, for death.”</p> + +<p>Eleanore lay in his arms; her face was perfectly white; her +body was rigid; her eyes were closed.</p> + +<p>Daniel kissed her eyes: “You must hold me, keep me, even when +it seems that I have left you,” he murmured.</p> + +<p>Then he carried her in his arms through the door into his room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p><p>“I have so longed, I have been so full of longing,” she said, +pressing her lips to his neck.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>Before one could realise it, winter had come, and the Place +with the Church was covered with snow.</p> + +<p>Eleanore had gone skating; when she returned she sat down in +the living room to wait for Daniel. There she sat with her fur +cap on her head, holding her skates in her hand by the cord: she +was tired—and she was thinking.</p> + +<p>Daniel entered the room and greeted her; she looked up, and +said with a gentle voice: “I am with child, Daniel; I found it out +to-day.”</p> + +<p>He fell on his knees, and kissed the tips of her fingers. +Eleanore drew a deep breath; a smile of dream-like cheerfulness +spread over her face.</p> + +<p>The following day Daniel went to the Town Hall, and made +arrangements to have the banns posted.</p> + +<p>Hardly had Philippina heard that Daniel and Eleanore were +to get married in February when she disappeared; she did not +leave a trace of her whereabouts behind her. Little Agnes cried in +vain for her “Pina.” Six days after Philippina had left, she came +back just as mysteriously as she had gone away. She was desperately +gloomy; her hair was towsled, her clothes were wrinkled, +there were no soles on her shoes; she was as speechless as a +clod, and remained so for weeks.</p> + +<p>No one knew, nor has any one ever found out, what she did +during those six days or where she had been.</p> + +<p>Eleanore insisted on a church wedding; this caused Daniel a +great deal of worry; it made him run many a vexatious errand. +But he consented to do as Eleanore had asked; for he did not wish +to deprive her of any pleasure she might imagine such a ceremony +would give her. Eleanore made her own white dress and her veil. +Gisela Degen, a younger sister of Martha Rübsam, and Elsa +Schneider, the daughter of the rector of the Church of St. Ægydius, +were to be her bridesmaids. Marian Nothafft and Eva +were also to come over from Eschenbach; Eleanore had already +sent them the money for the tickets.</p> + +<p>“Help me with my sewing, Philippina,” said Eleanore one +evening, and handed her silent house companion the veil, the +border of which had to be made.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p><p>Philippina took her seat opposite Eleanore, and began to sew; +she was silent. In the meanwhile, little Agnes, tottering about on +the floor, fell and began to cry in a most pitiable fashion. Eleanore +hastened over and picked the child up. Just then she heard +a sound as if cloth were being torn. She looked around, and saw +that the veil had an ugly rip in it: “You wicked thing! What +do you mean, Philippina?” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t do it; it tore itself,” growled Philippina, taking every +precaution to see that Eleanore might not catch her cowardly eye.</p> + +<p>“You just leave that alone! Keep your hands off of it! You +will sew evil thoughts into my veil,” replied Eleanore, filled with +forebodings.</p> + +<p>Philippina got up. “Well, it’s torn anyway, the veil,” she said +in a defiant tone; “if harm is to come it will come; you can’t +keep it off by sending me away.” Philippina left the room.</p> + +<p>The injury to the veil was not as great as Eleanore had feared. +It was a relatively easy matter to cut off the torn piece entirely, +and still use the remainder.</p> + +<p>But from that hour Eleanore was filled with sadness: her face +might be compared to a beautiful landscape on which the first fog +of autumn has settled. It is probable that the tearing of her veil +had nothing to do with her depression: there was not a shimmer +of superstition in her. Perhaps it was merely happiness and fulfilment: +it may be that she felt the end had come, that happiness +and fulfilment leave nothing more to be desired, that life from +then on would be nothing but a hum-drum existence which does +not give but only takes.</p> + +<p>Perhaps her mind was darkened and weighed down with grief +because of the life within her body; for that which is to come +sends out its rays of melancholy just as well as that which has come +and gone. What was there to hinder a pure soul from having an +inner premonition of the fate that was in store for it? Why +should this soul not learn in its dreams of the inevitable that was +not so far ahead?</p> + +<p>It was impossible to notice any change in Eleanore; her eyes +were bright; she seemed peaceful. She would often sit before the +mask of Zingarella; she hung it with fresh flowers every day: to +her the mask was a mysterious picture of all that her own being, +her own life, embraced.</p> + +<p>Marian Nothafft came to the wedding alone. Just as in the +case of Daniel’s wedding to Gertrude, she had left the child with +a neighbour. She told Daniel and Eleanore that she could not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>think of taking the child out on such a journey in the dead of +winter. She mentioned Eva’s name or talked about her only in a +half audible, subdued voice, a tender smile playing gently about +her lips.</p> + +<p>Among those present at the wedding in the Ægydius Church +were Judge and Frau Rübsam, Councillor Bock, Impresario Dörmaul, +Philippina Schimmelweis, Marian Nothafft, and Inspector +Jordan. On the very last bench sat Herr Carovius; underneath +one of the pillars, unseen by most of the people in the church, +stood Baron Eberhard von Auffenberg.</p> + +<p>Philippina walked along in an ugly, crouched, cowering fashion +by the side of Jordan; had it not been that she was constantly +chewing her finger nails, one would have thought she was asleep.</p> + +<p>As the bridal couple was marching up to the altar, the sun broke +out, and shone through the windows of the old church. The +effect was touching; for just then Eleanore raised her head, +stroked her veil back from her forehead, and caught the full light +of the sun in her radiant face.</p> + +<p>Old Jordan had laid his forehead on the prayer-desk; his back +was quivering.</p> + + +<h3>XIV</h3> + +<p>Late at night and in senseless excitement—for he was thinking +of a bridal bed that filled him with the most intense pangs of +jealousy—Herr Carovius sat in his room playing Chopin’s <i>étude</i> +of the revolution. He would begin it again and again; he struck +the keys with ever-increasing violence; the time in which he +played the <i>étude</i> became wilder and wilder; the swing of his gestures +became more and more eloquent; and his face became more +and more threatening.</p> + +<p>He was squaring accounts with the woman he had been unable +to bring before his Neronic tribunal in bodily form; and all the +pent-up hatred in his heart for the musician Nothafft he was +emptying into the music of another man. The envy of the man +doomed to limit his display of talent to the appreciation of what +another had created laid violent hands on the creator; the impotence +of the taster was infuriated at the cook. It was as if a flunked +and floored comedian had gone out into the woods to declaim his +part with nothing but the echo of his own voice to answer back.</p> + +<p>His hatred of things in general, of the customs of human +society, of order and prosperity, of state and family, of love and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>marriage, of man and woman, had burst out into lurid flames. It +was rare that a man had so cut, slashed, and vilified himself as +did this depatriated citizen while playing the piano. He converted +music into an orgy, a debauch, a debasing crime.</p> + +<p>“Enough!” he bellowed, as he closed with an ear-splitting discord. +He shut the piano with a vituperative bang, and threw himself +into a rickety leather chair.</p> + +<p>What his inner eye saw mocks at language and defies human +speech. He was in that house over there; it lay in his power to +murder his rival; he could abuse the woman who had been denied +him by the wily tricks of circumstances; he chastised her; he +dragged her from her bed of pleasure by the hair. He feasted +on her sense of shame and on the angry twitchings of the musician, +tied, bound, and gagged. He spared them no word of calumniation. +The whole city stood before his court, and listened to the +sentence he passed. Everybody stood in awe of him.</p> + +<p>Thus it is that the citizen of the moral stature of Herr Carovius +satisfies his thirst for revenge. Thus does the Nero of our time +punish the crimes mankind commits against him in that it creates +pleasures and enjoyments of which he is not in a position to +partake.</p> + +<p>But because he felt more abandoned to-day than ever, and more +fearful in his abandonment, and because he felt so keenly the +injustice done him by the man on whom he had hung for years +with dog-like fidelity, and who avoided him to-day as one avoids +an old dog that is no longer fit for anything, he decided in the +depths of his embittered soul to avenge himself, and to do it by a +means that would be quite different from playing the piano in +accordance with the rules of his own perverted fancy.</p> + +<p>With this decision in mind he sought sleep—at last.</p> + + +<h3>XV</h3> + +<p>Jordan was now living all alone in the two attic rooms. He +had asked of his own will that he be permitted to take over the +clerical work Eleanore had been doing, and her employers had +agreed to this arrangement. He was consequently enabled to pay +the rent and a little on his board.</p> + +<p>Daniel and Eleanore slept in the corner room in the front. Daniel +moved his piano into the living room, and did all his work there. +Philippina and Agnes remained in the room next to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Eleanore still made the bouquets, and still received the fancy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>price for them from the unknown purchaser. But she did not +attend to her flowers in Daniel’s presence, or even near him; she +did this in the old room up next to the roof.</p> + +<p>Her father would sit by her, and look at her thoughtfully. She +had the feeling that he knew of everything that had taken place +between her and Gertrude and Daniel, but, out of infinite delicacy +and modesty, and also in grief and pain, had never said a word +about it. For previous to her marriage with Daniel, he had never +been with her; he had never sat and looked at her so attentively; +he had always passed by her in great haste, and had always shown +an inclination to be alone.</p> + +<p>She had the feeling that he knew a great deal in general about +men and things, but rarely said anything because of his superior +sense of gentleness and compassion.</p> + +<p>Daniel lived about as he did before the wedding. He would +sit at the table until late at night and write. It often happened +that Eleanore would find him sitting there with his pen in his hand, +sound asleep, when she got up early in the morning. She always +smiled when this took place, and wakened him by kissing him on the +forehead.</p> + +<p>He wrote the notes direct from his memory, from his head, just +as other people write letters. He no longer needed an instrument +to try what he had composed or to give him an inspiration for a +new theme.</p> + +<p>Once he showed Eleanore eighteen variations of the same melody. +He had spent the whole night making changes in a single composition. +Eleanore’s heart was heavy: she came very nearly asking, +“For whom, Daniel? For what? The trunk up in the attic?”</p> + +<p>She slowly began to perceive that it is not brooding reason that +climbs and conquers the steps of perfection, but moral will. Like +a flash of lightning she recognised one day the demoniacal element +in this impulse, an impulse she had been accustomed to ascribe to +his everlasting fidgeting, fumbling, and grumbling. She shuddered +at the hitherto unsuspected distress of the man, and took pity on +him: he was burying himself in darkness in order to give the world +more light.</p> + +<p>The world? What did it know about the creations of her Daniel! +The big trunk was full of <i>opus</i> upon <i>opus</i>, and not a soul troubled +itself about all these musical treasures resting in a single coffin.</p> + +<p>There was something wrong here, she thought. There must be a +lost or broken wheel in the clock-work of time; there was some +disease among men; some poison, some evil, some heinous oversight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p><p>She could think of nothing else. One day she decided to visit +old Herold. At first he acted as though he would chew her to +pieces, but afterwards he became more civil, at least civil enough to +listen to her. Her features were remarkably brilliant and agile as +she spoke. He expressed himself as follows later on: “If some one +had promised me eternal blessedness on condition that I forget the +picture of this pregnant woman, as she stood before me and argued +the case of Daniel Nothafft <i>vs.</i> The Public, I would have been +obliged to forego the offer, for I could never have fulfilled my +part of the agreement. Forget her? Who would demand the +impossible?”</p> + +<p>Old Herold begged her to send him one of Daniel’s latest compositions, +if she could. She said she would, and the next morning +she took from the trunk the quartette in B minor for strings, and +carried it over to the professor. He laid the score before him, and +began to read. Eleanore took a seat, and patiently studied the many +little painted pictures that hung on the wall.</p> + +<p>The hour was up. The white-haired man turned the last leaf +and struck his clenched fist on the paper, while around his leonine +mouth there was a play partly of wrath and partly of awe. He said: +“The case will be placed on the calendar, you worthiest of all +Eleanores, but I am no longer the herald.”</p> + +<p>He walked back and forth, wrung his hands, and cried: “What +structure! What colourful tones! What a wealth of melody, +rhythm, and originality! What discipline, sweetness, power! What +a splendid fellow he is! And to think that a man like that lives +right here among us, and plagues and tortures himself! A disgrace +and a shame it is! Come, my dear woman, we will go to him at +once. I want to press him to my bosom....”</p> + +<p>But Eleanore, whose face burned with the feeling of good fortune, +interrupted him, and said: “If you do that, you will spoil +everything. It will be much better to tell me what to do. He +will become more and more obstinate and bitter, if some ray of +light does not soon fall on what he has thus far created.”</p> + +<p>The old man thought for a while: “You leave the score with me; +I’ll see what I can do with it; I have an idea,” he replied, after +a short time had elapsed.</p> + +<p>Eleanore went back home full of hope.</p> + +<p>The quartette was sent to Berlin, and placed in the hands of +a man of influence and discrimination. Some professional musicians +soon became acquainted with it and its merits. Professor Herold +received a number of enthusiastic letters, and answered them with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>characteristic and becoming shrewdness. A cycle of sagas was +soon afloat in Berlin concerning the habits and personality of the +unknown master. It was said that he was an anchorite who lived +in the Franconian forests and preached renunciation of all earthly +pleasures.</p> + +<p>In Leipzig the quartette was played before an invited audience. +The applause was quite different from what it ordinarily was in the +case of a public that is surfeited with musical novelties.</p> + +<p>Thereby Daniel finally learned what had been done. One day +he received a letter from the man who had arranged the concert, +a certain Herr Löwenberg. The letter closed as follows: “A +community of admirers is anxious to come into possession of your +compositions. They send you their greetings at present with +cordial gratitude.”</p> + +<p>Daniel could scarcely believe his own eyes; it was like magic. +Without saying a word he handed the letter to Eleanore. She +read it, and looked at him quietly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am guilty,” she said, “I stole the quartette.”</p> + +<p>“Is that so? Do you realise, Eleanore, what you have done +to me?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore’s face coloured with surprise and fear.</p> + +<p>“You ought to know; probably in the future you will lose +interest in such womanish wiles.”</p> + +<p>He walked back and forth, and then stepped up very close to +her: “You probably think I am an idiotic simpleton, a dullard. +You seem to feel that I am one of those rustic imbeciles, who has +had his fingers frozen once, and spends his days thereafter sitting +behind the stove, grunting and shaking every time anybody says +weather to him. Well, you are wrong. There was a period when +I felt more or less like that, but that time is no more.”</p> + +<p>He started to walk back and forth again; again he stopped: +“It is not because I think they are too good, nor is it because +I am too inert or cowardly, that I keep my compositions under +lock and key. I would have to have wheels in my head if I did +not have sense enough to know that the effect of a piece is just +as much a part of it as heat is a part of fire. Those people who +claim that they can quite dispense with recognition and success +are liars and that only. What I have created is no longer my +property: it longs to reach the world; it is a part of the world; +and I must give it to the world, provided, do you hear? <i>provided</i> +it is a living thing.”</p> + +<p>“Well then, Daniel,” said Eleanore, somewhat relieved.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p><p>“That is where the trouble lies,” he continued, as though he +had never been interrupted, “it all depends on whether the piece +has life, reality, the essence of true being in it. What is the +use of feeding people with unripe or half-baked stuff? They +have far too much of that already. There are too many who try +and even can, but what they create lacks the evidence that high +heaven insisted on its being created: there is no divine <i>must</i> about +it. My imperfect creations would merely serve as so many stumbling +blocks to my perfect ones. If a man has once been seduced +by the public and its applause, so that he is satisfied with what +is only half perfect, his ear grows deaf, his soul blind before he +knows it, and he is the devil’s prey forever. It is an easy matter +to make a false step, but there is no such thing as turning back +with corrective pace. It cannot be done; for however numerous +the possibilities may be, the actual deed is a one-time affair. And +however fructifying encouragement from without may be, its effects +are in the end murderous if it is allowed to drown out conscience. +What I have created in all these years is good enough so far as it +goes, but it is merely the preparatory drill to the really great work +that is hovering before my mind. It is possible that I flatter +myself; it may be that I am being cajoled by fraud and led on by +visions; but it is in me, I feel certain of it, and it must come to +light. Then we shall see what sort of creature it is. Then all +my previous works will have ceased to exist; then I will bestir +myself in a public way; I will come out and be the man that I +really am. You can depend on it.”</p> + +<p>Daniel had never talked to Eleanore in this way before. As she +looked at him, overcome almost by the passion of his words, and +saw him standing there so utterly fearless, so unyielding and +unpitying, her breast heaved with a sigh, and she said: “God +grant that you succeed, and that you live to enjoy the fruits of +your ambition.”</p> + +<p>“It is all a matter of fate, Eleanore,” he replied.</p> + +<p>He demanded the quartette; it was sent back to him.</p> + +<p>From then on Eleanore suppressed even the slightest sense of discontent +that arose in her heart. She felt that he needed cruelty +and harshness for his small life in order to preserve love and +patience for the great life.</p> + +<p>Yes, she prayed to Heaven that she might leave him harsh and +cruel.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p><h3>XVI</h3> + +<p>“Eleanore is my wife,” said Daniel every now and then; he +would even stop in the middle of the street in order to enjoy to +the full, and preserve if possible, the blessed realisation of this fact.</p> + +<p>He always knew it. Yet when he was with Eleanore he frequently +forgot her presence. There were days when he would +pass by her as though she were some chance acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Then there were other days when his happiness made him sceptical; +he would say: “Is it then really happiness? Am I happy? +If so, why is it that I do not feel my happiness more fervently, +terribly?”</p> + +<p>He would frequently study her form, her hands, her walk, and +wish that he had new eyes, so that he might see her anew. He +went away merely in order that he might see her better. In the +night he would take a candle, and go up to her bed: a gentle +anguish seemed to disappear from her features, his own pulse beat +more rapidly. This was caused by the flame-blue of her eyes.</p> + +<p>There is a point where the most demure and chaste woman +differs in no wise from a prostitute. This is the source of infinite +grief to the man who loves. No woman suspects or can understand +it.</p> + +<p>It was one day while he was brooding and musing and quarrelling +without definite reason, in the arms of his beloved, that the +profound, melancholy motif in the first movement of his symphony +in D minor came to him. This symphony gradually grew into +the great vision of his life, and, many years later, one of his +women admirers gave it the modifying title of Promethean. The +first time the theme sounded in his ears he roared like a wild +beast, but with joy. It seemed to him that music was really born +at that moment.</p> + +<p>He pressed Eleanore so tightly to his bosom that she could not +breathe, and murmured between his teeth: “There is no choice +left: we have got to remain lifeless and irresponsive to each other’s +presence or wound one another with love.”</p> + +<p>“The mask, the mask,” whispered Eleanore anxiously, and +pointed over to the corner from which the mask of Zingarella, +with the dim light falling on it, shone forth like the weirdly beautiful +face of a spectre.</p> + +<p>Philippina stood before the door, and listened to what they +were saying. She had caught a rat, killed it, and laid the cadaver +in the door. The next morning, as Eleanore was going into the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>kitchen, she saw the dead rat, screamed, and went back to her +room trembling with fright.</p> + +<p>Daniel stroked her hair, and said: “Don’t worry, Eleanore. Rats +belong to married life just as truly as salty soup, broken dishes, +and holes in the stockings.”</p> + +<p>“Now listen, Daniel, is that meant as a reproach?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“No, my dear, it is not a reproach; it is merely a picture of +the world. You have the soul of a princess; you know nothing +about rats. Look at those black, staring, pearly eyes: they remind +me of Jason Philip Schimmelweis and Alfons Diruf and Alexander +Dörmaul; they remind me of the reserved table, the <i>Kaffeeklatsch</i>, +smelly feet, evenings at the club, and everything else that is +unappetising, vulgar, and base. Don’t look at me in such astonishment, +Eleanore, I have just had an ugly dream; that is all. I +dreamt that a miserable-looking wretch came up to me and kept +asking me what your name is, and I couldn’t tell him. Just think +of it: I could not recall your name. It was terribly annoying. +Farewell, farewell.”</p> + +<p>He had put on his hat and left. He ran out in the direction +of Feucht, and stayed the entire day in the open fields without +taking a single bit of nourishment except a piece of black bread +and a glass of milk. But when he returned in the evening his +pockets were bulging with notes he had jotted down while out +there by himself.</p> + +<p>He came back by way of the Castle, and knocked at Eberhard’s +door. Since there was no one at home, he sauntered around for +a while along the old rampart, and then returned about nine +o’clock. But the windows were still dark.</p> + +<p>He had not seen Eberhard for two months. He could still +recall the Baron’s depression and worry the last time he had talked +with him—it was toward the end of March: he had spoken very +little at that time and had gazed into space with remarkably lifeless +eyes. He gave the impression of a man who is on the point of +doing something quite out of the ordinary if not distinctly terrible.</p> + +<p>Daniel did not become aware of this until now; the Baron’s +troubles, whatever they were, had not occurred to him during the +past weeks; he was sorry for having neglected him so.</p> + + +<h3>XVII</h3> + +<p>When he came home Eleanore was suffering from premature +birth pains. Philippina greeted him with the words: “There is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>going to be an increase in the family, Daniel.” Whereat she +burst out in a coarse laugh.</p> + +<p>“Shut up, you beast,” cried Daniel: “How long has she been +suffering? Why didn’t you get the nurse?”</p> + +<p>“Can I leave the child here alone? Don’t growl so!” replied +Philippina angrily. She went out for the nurse. In a half an +hour she came back with her: it was Frau Hadebusch.</p> + +<p>Daniel had a disagreeable feeling. He wanted to raise some +questions and make some objections, but Frau Hadebusch’s nimble +tongue anticipated him. She grinned, curtsied, rolled her eyes, +and went through the entire category of acquired mannerisms on +the part of a woman of her type, and then unloaded her life +history: Her duly wedded husband had said farewell to this vale +of tears three years ago, and since then she had been supporting, +as well as she could, herself and her poor Henry, the idiot, by +hiring out as a midwife. She seemed already to have come to +an understanding with Eleanore, for when she entered the +room, Eleanore greeted her as though she were an old acquaintance.</p> + +<p>While Daniel was alone with Eleanore for a few minutes, he +asked her in an indignant tone: “How did you ever come to get +that vicious woman?”</p> + +<p>Eleanore replied in a gentle and unsuspecting tone: “She came +to me one day, and asked to be called in when the child was born. +She said she was awfully fond of you, and that you had once lived +in her house. Well, I thought, what difference does it make who +comes, so I engaged her, and there she is.”</p> + +<p>It was only with the greatest difficulty that she finished saying +what was on her mind. Her face, white as a sheet, was +pinched with an expression of terrific pain. She reached for +Daniel’s hand, and held it so tightly that he became rigid with +anxiety.</p> + +<p>When she began to groan, Daniel turned away and pressed his +fists together. Frau Hadebusch came in with a tub of hot water: +“This is no place for men,” she exclaimed with a kindly twisting of +her face, took Daniel by the shoulder, and pushed him out the +door.</p> + +<p>Little Agnes was standing in the hall. “Father,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Put that child to bed!” said Daniel, turning to Philippina.</p> + +<p>Jordan came out of the kitchen. He held an earthen bowl of +soup in his hand. It had been saved for him, and all he had to +do was to hold it over the fire and heat it up. He went up to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>Daniel, and said, as his chin quivered: “May God protect her, +and be merciful to her!”</p> + +<p>“Quit that kind of talk, Father,” said Daniel impatiently. +“God rules with reservations that make me insane.”</p> + +<p>“Won’t you say good-night to little Agnes?” asked Philippina +in a rude, rough tone from the other room.</p> + +<p>He went in; the child looked at him timidly. The more it +grew, the greater his own shyness became in its presence. And +the constant association of Eleanore with the child had always +been a source of worry to him. There was one thing of which +he was mortally certain: he could not see Eleanore in bodily form +and precisely as she was, when Agnes, with her Gertrude eyes and +her arched Eleanore mouth, was present in the room with Eleanore. +He felt that Eleanore had been transformed into the sister of +Agnes, that she was still only a sister. And this he felt was something +fatal.</p> + +<p>Both of the sisters looked at him out of Agnes’s big childish +eyes; in her they were both melted and moulded into a single +being. A presageful horror crept over him. Sisters! The word +had a solemn sound in his ears; it seemed full of mysterious meaning; +it took on mythical greatness.</p> + +<p>“Sleep, baby, sleep, outside are two sheep, a black one and a +white one ...” sang Philippina in her imbecile way. It was +astonishing the amount of malevolence there was in her sing-song.</p> + +<p>Daniel could not stand it in the house; he went out on the street, +and wandered around until midnight. If he made up his mind to +go home, the thought occurred to him at once that Frau Hadebusch +would prevent him from going into Eleanore’s room. He felt like +lying down on the pavement and waiting until some one came and +told him how Eleanore was getting along.</p> + + +<h3>XVIII</h3> + +<p>It struck one just as he came home. The maid from the first +floor and the maid from the second were standing on the stairs. +They had not been able to sleep; they had heard the cries of the +young woman from their rooms, had come out, joined each other, +listened, trembled, and whispered.</p> + +<p>Daniel heard one of them say: “The Kapellmeister should send +for the doctor.”</p> + +<p>The other sobbed and replied: “Yes, but a doctor can’t work +miracles.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p><p>“Lord, Lord,” they cried, as a nerve-racking cry from Eleanore +rang through the bleak house.</p> + +<p>Daniel sprang up the steps. “Run for Dr. Müller just as fast +as your feet can carry you,” said Daniel to Philippina, who was +then standing in the kitchen in her bare feet with her hair hanging +down her back. Daniel was breathing heavily; Philippina was +making some tea. Daniel then hastened into Eleanore’s room; Frau +Hadebusch tried to keep him out, but he pushed her to one side, +gritted his teeth, and threw himself on the floor by Eleanore’s bed.</p> + +<p>She raised her head; she was a pale as death; the perspiration +was pouring down over her face. “You shouldn’t be here, Daniel, +you shouldn’t see me,” she said with much effort, but her tone +was so commanding and final that Daniel got up and slowly left +the room. He was seized with a strange, violent anger. He went +out into the kitchen and drank a glass of water, and then hurled +the glass on the floor: it broke into a hundred pieces.</p> + +<p>Frau Hadebusch had followed him; she looked very much discouraged. +When he noticed the frame of mind she was in, he +became dizzy; he had to sit down in order to keep from falling. +“Ah, the doctor will come,” he said in a brusque tone.</p> + +<p>“My God, it makes you sick at the stomach to see how women +suffer to-day,” said the old lady in her shrillest, one-tooth voice; +it was quite plain that she was pleased to know that the doctor was +coming. The present case had got her into serious trouble, and she +wanted to get out of it. “The devil to these women who are so +delicately built,” she had said about an hour ago to the grinning +Philippina.</p> + +<p>Philippina came back with the announcement that Dr. Müller +was on a vacation: “Well, is he the only physician in the city, you +dumb ox?” howled Daniel, “go get Dr. Dingolfinger; he lives +here close by: right over there by the Peller House. But wait a +minute! You stay here; I’ll go get him.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Dingolfinger was a Jewish physician, a rather old man, and +Daniel had to ring and ring to get him out of his bed. But +finally he heard the bell, got up, and followed Daniel across the +square. Daniel had left the lantern burning at the front gate, +and with it he lighted the doctor through the court and up the +stairs.</p> + +<p>Then he sat down on the bench in the kitchen; how long he +sat there he did not know; he bent his body forward and buried +his head in his hands. The screams became worse and worse: +they were no longer the cries of Eleanore but of some unsouled, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>dehumanised being. Daniel heard them all; he could think of +nothing, he could feel nothing but that voice. At times the terrible +cry ran through his heart: Sisters! Sisters!</p> + +<p>Frau Hadebusch came out several times to get hot water. The +yellow tooth in her lower jaw stuck out like a cracked, lecherous +remainder and reminder of her past life. Once Dr. Dingolfinger +himself came out, rummaged around in his leather case, which he +had left in the hall, looked at Daniel, and said: “It is going to +come out all right; it will all be over in a short while.” At +that Philippina poked at the fire, and put on fresh coals. She +looked at Daniel out of one corner of her eye, and went on her +way. From time to time old Jordan rapped on the wall to have +Philippina come up and tell him how things were going.</p> + +<p>It must have been about four o’clock in the morning; the gloomy, +grey stones in the walls of the court yard were already being +covered with rosy tints from the East. There was a cry so fearful, +so like that of a voice from the wilds of the heart, that Daniel +sprang to his feet and stood trembling in every limb.</p> + +<p>Then it became quiet, mysteriously, uncannily quiet.</p> + + +<h3>XIX</h3> + +<p>He sat down again; after a while his eyes closed, and he fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>He must have slept about half an hour when he was wakened +by the sound of footsteps.</p> + +<p>Standing around him were the physician, Frau Hadebusch, and +Philippina. The doctor said something at which Daniel shook +his head. It sounded like: “Unfortunately I cannot keep the sad +news from you.” Daniel did not understand him; he drew his +lips apart, and thought: “The idea of dreaming such disordered +stuff!”</p> + +<p>“Mother and child are both dead,” said the old physician, with +tears in his eyes. “Both dead. It was a boy. Science was powerless; +nature was hostile and the stronger of the two.”</p> + +<p>“So delicately built,” murmured Frau Hadebusch, in a tone of +disapproval, “as delicate as the stem of a plant.”</p> + +<p>When Daniel at last realised that he was not dreaming, that +these were in bitter truth Philippina’s glistening eyes and Frau +Hadebusch’s goatish tooth and Dr. Dingolfinger’s silvery beard, +and that these were actual words that were being spoken to him, +he fell over and became unconscious.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p><h3>XX</h3> + +<p>Pain, grief, despair, such terms do not describe his condition.</p> + +<p>He knew nothing about himself; he had no thoughts; he lay +on the sofa in the living room day and night, ate nothing, said +nothing, and never moved.</p> + +<p>When they carried the empty coffin into the death chamber, +he burrowed his face into the corner of the sofa. Old Jordan +tottered through the room to take a last look at his dead daughter. +“He has sinned,” Jordan sobbed, “sinned against God in Heaven.”</p> + +<p>In the hall some people were whispering. Martha Rübsam and +her husband had come in. Martha was crying. Her slender +figure with her pale face appeared in the doorway; she looked +around for Daniel.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you want to see your Eleanore before the coffin is +closed?” asked Philippina in a hollow voice.</p> + +<p>He never moved; the twitchings of his face were terrible to +behold.</p> + +<p>Beside him on the table was some cold food; also some bread +and apples.</p> + +<p>They carried the coffin out. He felt that where his heart once +was there was now a dark, empty space. The church bell rang, +the rain splashed against the window panes.</p> + +<p>During the second night he felt his soul suddenly become +incoherent, lax. This was followed by a brief flaring up within +him, whereupon his eyes were filled with hot, burning tears. +He resigned himself to the situation without audible display of +grief; he felt all of a sudden that he had now for the first time +in his life really sensed the beauty of the pure triad in the +major key.</p> + +<p>Another day passed by. He could hear old Jordan walking about +in the room above him, ceaselessly and with heavy tread. He felt +cold; Philippina came in; he asked her to get him a blanket. +Philippina was most eager to be of service to him. The door +bell rang; Philippina opened.</p> + +<p>Before her stood a lady and a gentleman. There was something +so refined about them that Philippina did not dare raise any +objections when they quietly came in and went straight to the +living room: the door had not been closed, and they could see +Daniel lying on the sofa.</p> + +<p>Daniel looked at them quite indifferently. Gradually he began +to collect his thoughts, to compose himself, to come to himself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p><p>His guests were Eberhard von Auffenberg and his cousin, Sylvia +von Erfft. They were betrothed.</p> + +<p>Taken up as he had latterly been with the marked changes and +transformations in his life, Eberhard had not heard of the death +of Eleanore until a few hours ago.</p> + +<p>It was a rare visit. None of the three said a word. Daniel +lay wrapped in his blanket; he never moved. Finally, when his +friends were about to leave, Sylvia got up, and turning to Daniel, +said: “I did not know Eleanore, but I feel as if I had lost one of +my own dear friends.”</p> + +<p>Eberhard tossed his chin in the air, turned pale, and was as +silent as the tomb.</p> + +<p>They repeated their visit on the following day, and then on +the next day, and so on. The presence of the two people came +in time to have a beneficent effect on Daniel.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span><a name="THE_ROOM_WITH_THE_WITHERED_FLOWERS" id="THE_ROOM_WITH_THE_WITHERED_FLOWERS"></a>THE ROOM WITH THE WITHERED FLOWERS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">A few</span> days later, Herr Carovius carried out the scheme he +had decided upon at the time his heart became so embittered at +Eleanore’s marriage.</p> + +<p>It was the end of March. Herr Carovius had learned that the +old Baron had just returned from Berlin. He went around to +his house, and sent in his card. The butler came out, and told +him that the Baron could receive no one, that he should state his +business in writing.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius, however, wanted to see his debtor face to face: +this was the heart of his dream. When he came back a second +time and was again told that he could not see the Baron, he began +to storm and bluster, and insisted that they should at least let +him talk with the Baroness.</p> + +<p>The Baroness was just then taking her music lesson. The fifteen-year-old +Dorothea Döderlein, who gave promise of developing +into a remarkable virtuoso on the violin, was playing some sonatas +with the Baroness.</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein had recognised her talents when she was a +mere child. Since her tenth year, she had been obliged to practise +six hours every day. She had had a great number of different +teachers, all of whom had been brought to the point of despair +by her intractability. In the presence of her father, however, +she was meek: to him she bowed.</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein had recommended his daughter to the +Baroness in words replete with objective recognition. The +Baroness declared her willingness to play with Dorothea. Andreas +Döderlein had said to her: “Now you have a chance to rise in the +world through powerful influence; don’t neglect it! The Baroness +loves the emotional; be emotional. At times she will demand the +demoniac; be obedient. Like all rich people, she is pampering +some grief <i>de luxe</i>; don’t disturb her!”</p> + +<p>Dorothea was docile.</p> + +<p>They were playing Beethoven’s spring sonatas, when the altercation +began out in the vestibule. The maid came in and whispered +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>something to her mistress. The Baroness arose and went to +the door. Dorothea laid her violin in her lap, and looked around +in affected astonishment, as though she were coming out of a +dream.</p> + +<p>At a sign from the Baroness the old servant gave Herr Carovius +a free path. He went in: his face was red; he made a quite +ridiculous bow. His eyes drank in the velvet portières, the cut +glass mirrors, the crystal vases, and the bronze statuettes. In the +meantime, and without fail, he had placed his right hand against +his hip, giving the fine effect of right akimbo, and set one foot +very elegantly a trifle more to the fore than the other: he looked +like a provincial dancing-master.</p> + +<p>He complained of the presumptuousness of the servants, and +assured the Baroness that she was in complete enjoyment of his +deference. He spoke of his good intentions and the pressure of +circumstances. When the impatient bearing of his sole but distinguished +auditor at last obliged him to come to the real purpose +of his visit, the Baroness twitched; for from his flood of words +there emerged, as she heard them, nothing but the name of her son.</p> + +<p>With panting sounds she came up to Herr Carovius, and took +him by the coat-sleeve. Her dim, black eyes became as round as +little bullets; the supplicating expression in them was so much +balm to the soul of her visitor.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius was enchanted; he was having the time of a +scurvy life; he became impudent; he wanted to take vengeance on +the mother against the son. He saw that the Baroness did not +correspond to the picture he had made of a creature who belonged +to the aristocracy. In his imagination she had lived as a domineering, +imperious, inaccessible phenomenon: and now there stood +before him an old, obese, worried woman. On this account he gave +his voice a shriller tone, his face a more scurrilous expression than +was his wont. Then he launched forth on a graphic narration of +the unhappy plight in which he now found himself as a result +of his association with Baron von Eberhard, Jr.</p> + +<p>He claimed that it was nothing but his own good nature that +had got him into this trouble. And yet, what was he to do? +The Baron would have starved to death, or become morally depraved, +if he had not come to his spiritual and pecuniary rescue, +for the young man was sadly wanting in the powers of moral +resistance. And what had he gained by all this altruism? Ingratitude, +bitter ingratitude!</p> + +<p>“He plundered me; he took my last cent, and then acted as if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>it were my damned duty to go through fire for his baronical +excellency,” screamed Herr Carovius. “Before I came to know +him I was a well-to-do man; I could enjoy myself; I could reap +the higher pleasures of human existence. To-day I am ruined. +My money is wasted, my house is burdened with mortgages, my +peace of mind has gone plumb to the Devil. Two hundred and +seventy-six thousand marks is what the young man owes me and +my business friends. Yes—two hundred and seventy-six thousand +marks, including interest and interest on the interest, all neatly +noted down and signed up by the duly authorised parties. Am I +to let him slam the door in my face because of his indebtedness +to me? I think you will see yourself that that cannot be expected +of me. He at least owes me a little respect for what I have +done for him.”</p> + +<p>The Baroness had listened to all this with folded hands and +unfixed eyes. But the close of the story was too much for her: +she threw herself on a great divan, overcome—for the time being—with +worry and maternal weakness. A grin strayed across Herr +Carovius’s face. He twirled his Calabrian headpiece in his hands, +and let his leery eyes wander about the walls. Then it was that +he caught sight of Dorothea, whom he had thus far failed to see +in his intoxication of wrath and rapture.</p> + +<p>When Herr Carovius entered, Dorothea, out of discretion rather +than with serious intent, had made herself as small as possible in +the most remote corner of the room. Trembling with curious +excitement, she had wished to evade the eye of her uncle Carovius, +for in very truth she was ashamed of him.</p> + +<p>She regarded him as a sort of comic freak, who, though he had +enough to live on, could not be said to be in the best of circumstances. +When he rolled the sum the Auffenberg family owed +him from his tongue, she was filled with astonishment and delight, +and from then on she took a totally different view of him.</p> + +<p>During the last few years Herr Carovius had seen very little of +Dorothea. Whenever he had met her, she had passed by him in +great haste. He knew that she was taking violin lessons: he had +often heard her screechy fiddling on the stairs and out in the hall.</p> + +<p>He fixed his eyes on her, and exclaimed: “Well I’m a son-of-a-gun +if there isn’t Döderlein’s daughter! How did you get here? +Aha, you are going about and showing the people what you can +do! I should think you and your creator would have had enough +of music by this time.”</p> + +<p>The Baroness, recalling that the young girl was present, raised +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>her eyes and looked at Dorothea reproachfully. For the first time +in her life she felt that the resources she had managed to extract +from a life of neglect were about exhausted; for the first time +in her life she felt a shudder at the thought of her musical +stupefactions.</p> + +<p>She asked Herr Carovius to have patience, adding that he would +hear from her in a few days—as soon as she had talked the matter +over with her husband. She nipped in the bud a zealous reply +he was about to make, and nodded a momentary farewell to Dorothea, +who put her violin in the case, took the case in her hand, +curtsied, and followed her uncle out of the room.</p> + +<p>She remained at his side; they went along the street together. +Herr Carovius turned to her from time to time, and made some +rancorous remark. She smiled modestly.</p> + +<p>With that began the strange relation that existed between the +two from then on.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>It had looked for some time as though the Baron von Auffenberg +had retired from the political stage. In circles in which he had +formerly been held in unqualified esteem he was now regarded as +a fallen hero.</p> + +<p>His friends traced the cause of his failure to the incessant friction +from which the party had suffered; to the widespread change +that was taking place in the public mind; to the ever-increasing +pressure from above and the never-ceasing fermentation from +below; to the feverish restlessness that had come over the body +politic, changing its form, its ideals, and its convictions; and to the +more scrupulous and sometimes reactionary stand that was being +taken on all matters of national culture.</p> + +<p>But this could not explain the hard trace of repulsion and +aversion which the Baron’s countenance had never before revealed +when in the presence of men; it threw no light, or at most an +inadequate light, on the stony glare, gloomy impatience, and reticence +which he practised now even in those circles and under +those circumstances in which he had formerly been noted for his +diverting talents as a conversationalist and companion.</p> + +<p>In his heart of hearts he had, as a matter of fact, always despised +his political constituents, their speeches, their action, their enthusiasm, +and their indignation. But he had never kicked over the +traces, for during the course of a rather eventful life he had made +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>the discovery that contempt and an icy disposition are invaluable +adjuncts to any one who wishes to control men.</p> + +<p>Even though he had fought at the beginning of his career with +all the eloquence and buoyancy at his command for freedom and +tolerance, it remained a fact that he regarded liberalism as nothing +more than a newspaper term, a means of keeping men busy who +were too indolent to think for themselves, and a source of obstructive +annoyance to the openly hated but secretly admired Bismarck.</p> + +<p>He had wielded a power in full consciousness of the lie he was +acting, and had done it solely by gestures, calculations, and political +adroitness. This will do for a while, but in time it eats into the +marrow of one’s life.</p> + +<p>In his eyes nothing was of value except the law, unwritten to +be sure, but of immemorial duration, that subjects the little to the +big, the weak to the strong, the immature to the experienced, the +poor to the rich. In accordance with this law humanity for him +was divided into two camps: those who submitted to the law, and +the undesirable citizens who rebelled against the law.</p> + +<p>And of these undesirable citizens his son Eberhard was the most +undesirable.</p> + +<p>With this stinging, painful thorn in his flesh, oppressed by the +feeling of loneliness in the very midst of a noisy, fraudulent +activity, and filled with an ever-increasing detestation of the superfluity +and consequent effeminacy of his daily existence, he had +created out of the figure of his son a picture of evil incarnate.</p> + +<p>He visualised him in dissipation and depravity of every kind +and degree; he saw him sinking lower and lower, a traitor to his +family name; as if in a dream that appeases the sense of obscene +horror, he saw him in league with the abandoned and proscribed, +associating with thieves, street bandits, high-flying swindlers, counterfeiters, +anarchists, prostitutes, and literati. He saw him in dirty +dives, a fugitive from justice wandering along the highway, drunk +in a gambling den, a beggar at a fair, and a prisoner at the bar.</p> + +<p>His determination to wait until the degenerate representative of +the human family had been stigmatised by all the world he finally +abandoned. His impatience to find peace, to throw off the mask, +to rid himself completely of all entanglements, dissimulation, and +the life of luxury to which he had been accustomed became so +great, that he looked forward to the day that would eventually +mark his release as the day of a new birth.</p> + +<p>But why did he hesitate? Was there still an element of doubt +in his breast? Was there still slumbering, deep down in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>regions of his heart that were inaccessible to bitterness and revenge, +another picture of his son? Why did he hesitate from week to +week, from month to month?</p> + +<p>In the meantime he had donated great fortunes to poor houses, +hospitals, foundations, and similar causes. He wanted to give away +other millions, at least so much that his heirs would receive only +the gleanings of what had once been a field of riches. Emilia +was to be given the income from the breweries and the country +estates.</p> + +<p>To this extent he had firmly made up his mind. Now that his +wife had told him of the actual condition in which Eberhard +found himself, he felt justified in going ahead and carrying out +his pre-determined plans. The proofs of dishonourable conduct +on the part of his son could now be brought forward. The debts +he had contracted, either through flippancy or downright deception, +in the name of his father were sufficient to condemn him forever. +And if not, then let them fight it out after he was dead and gone; +let his last will and testament be a ghost, a spectre that would strike +terror into their hearts and embitter such pleasure as they might +otherwise derive from life.</p> + +<p>His will had been drawn up seven years ago; all that was needed +was the signature of the notary public.</p> + +<p>But why did the Baron hesitate? Why did he pace back and +forth in his room with pinched lips? Why did he ring for the +butler with the idea of sending this functionary for the notary, +and then suddenly change his mind and give the butler something +else to do?</p> + +<p><i>“Dépêche-toi, mon bon garçon</i>,” screeched the parrot.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>In the course of three days the Baroness had five talks with +her husband. Each time he rejected her petition to have the +affairs of their son straightened out; and when she became insistent +and seemed minded to keep up her fight, he became silent, speechless.</p> + +<p>It was during her last attempt that the servants heard her speaking +with extraordinary passion and violence. When she left the +Baron’s room her whole body was quivering with emotion and +excitement. She came out, and ordered the house servants to pack +her trunk and her coachman to be ready to leave in a few +minutes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span></p><p>An hour later she was on her way to the estate at Siegmundshof, +about ten miles from the baronial residence. Her maid accompanied +her. But she was utterly unable to find peace there. During +the day she would pace back and forth through the rooms, +crying and wringing her hands; at night she would lie down, but not +to sleep. On the fourth day she returned to the city, had the +carriage driven to the residence of Count Urlich, and sent her +coachman in to get the Countess. Emilia came down, terrified, to +know what her mother wanted. The Baroness told her that she +wished her to accompany her to Herr Carovius, whose address +she had found in the city directory.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius had waited in vain for the news the Baroness +had promised him. His anger got the best of him: he decided to +make an example of the Auffenberg family, and, with this end in +view, entered their house as the personal embodiment of punitive +justice. When he was told that he could not be admitted, he +began once more to start trouble; he raged and stormed like a +madman. The servants came running out from all quarters; +finally a policeman appeared on the scene and questioned him. +The porter then dragged him from the house and out through the +big gate at the entrance to the grounds, where he stood surrounded +by a crowd of curious but not entirely disinterested people, bare-headed, +waving his arms and striking an imaginary adversary with +his fists—a picture, all told, of anger intensified to the point of +insanity.</p> + +<p>His backers at once got wind of his fruitless attempts to collect. +They became uneasy, gave Herr Carovius himself a deal of trouble, +and finally appointed a lawyer to take charge of the case. In the +meantime Herr Carovius had learned through a spy that it had +come to a complete break between the Baron and the Baroness, +that the latter had left within two days with bag and baggage, +and that great consternation prevailed among the servants and +friends of the family.</p> + +<p>A voluptuous light crept across Herr Carovius’s face: here was +defeat and despair, weeping and gnashing of teeth; what more +could he wish? He felt that he was personally the annihilator +of the collective aristocracy. And if it is possible to take a fiendish +delight in witnessing the destruction of what one after all despises, +how much greater may this joy be when the thing destroyed is +something one loves and admires!</p> + +<p>It was while in this mood that the Baroness and her daughter +came to see him. The sight of the two women left him momentarily +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>speechless. He forgot to say good-day to them; to ask +them in never once occurred to him.</p> + +<p>The Baroness wanted to know where Eberhard was: she was +determined to see him. When Herr Carovius stuttered out the +astounding information to her that he was living hardly more +than three hundred paces from where she was then standing, she +began to tremble and leaned against the wall. She was not prepared +for this: she had always imagined that he was staying at +some mysterious place in some mysterious distance.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius at once insisted that he accompany the ladies to +the Baron’s diminutive residence. But the Baroness felt that she +was not capable of this: she feared it would mean her death. +“Take me home with you, Emilia,” she said to her daughter, “and +you go over and have a talk with Eberhard first.”</p> + +<p>But Emilia had not seen Eberhard once during the nine years +of her married life, and was even less inclined than her mother +to meet him now. Nor was it possible to take the Baroness to her +home. The old lady had evidently forgotten that she had told +Count Urlich never to show his face in her presence again. The +occasion of this inexorable request was the time she learned that +the governess of his child was in a family way and that he was +responsible for her disgrace.</p> + +<p>Since the Baroness stoutly refused to return either to her town +residence or to Siegmundshof, there was nothing for Emilia to do +but to take her to a hotel. Herr Carovius, who had accompanied +the two women on the street and had enjoyed to the full their +pitiable distress, suggested that they go to the Bavarian Court. He +climbed up on the seat by the coachman, told him how to get +there, and looked down in regal triumph on the pedestrians.</p> + +<p>Countess Emilia, quite at her wits’ end, sent a telegram to her +Aunt Agatha. The next Wednesday Frau von Erfft with her +daughter Sylvia arrived. “Clotilda acts as if she had lost her +mind,” she said to Emilia after having spent an hour in the room +with her sister. “I am going to see your father. I must have a +long talk with Siegmund.”</p> + +<p>The Baron received his sister-in-law with marked coolness, +though he had always had a great deal of respect for her.</p> + +<p>Frau von Erfft was quite careful to avoid any reference to the +family affairs. She talked about Sylvia, remarking that she was +now twenty-seven years old, and that she had rejected all her +suitors, a fact which was causing her parents a measure of concern. +“She simply will not be contented,” said Frau Agatha. “She is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>bent on securing a special mission in her marriage, and fears nothing +so much as the loss of her personal liberty. That is the way our +children are, dear Siegmund; and if we had brought them into +the world differently, they would be different. In our day the +ideal was obedience; but now children have discovered the duty +they owe themselves.”</p> + +<p>“Then they should look out for themselves,” replied the Baron +gloomily. He had fully appreciated what his sister-in-law was driving +at.</p> + +<p>From the confused and incoherent remarks of her sister, Agatha +had learned what had taken place between the Baron and the +Baroness. She was familiar with the painful past; and when she +looked into the old Baron’s eyes, she saw what was necessary. She +made up her mind then and there to have Eberhard meet his +mother.</p> + +<p>She wished above everything else to quiet Clotilda and persuade +her to return home. The task, owing to the weakness and instability +of the Baroness, was not difficult. Sylvia remained with +her aunt, and her quiet, resolute disposition had a wholesome effect +upon her. In the meantime Agatha had got Eberhard’s address. +After some search she found the house: Eberhard was at home.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The first talk she had with him passed off without results of +any kind. He evaded her courageous remarks, and failed to hear +what he did not care to hear. He was stiff, polite, and annoyingly +listless. Agatha, full of vexation, told her daughter of her disappointment. +Sylvia said she would like to go with her mother the +next time she visited Eberhard. Agatha shook her head, though +she was in no way minded to abandon her purpose.</p> + +<p>There was no change at the Baron’s house. Baroness Clotilda +was in a perpetual state of nervous excitement that was anything +but reassuring either to herself or those about her. The Baron +was a disquieting riddle to the entire household: he never left his +room; he paced up and down hours at a time, with his hands folded +across his back.</p> + +<p>Agatha called on her nephew a second, a third, a fourth time. +Even though Eberhard’s Arctic impenetrability seemed made for all +time, though yielding seemed to be no part of his nature, she +finally succeeded in jolting him loose from his bearings. And +when Sylvia accompanied her mother—Sylvia generally won her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>point with her mother—he shook off his armour with unexpected +suddenness; you could see the struggles that were going on in +his soul.</p> + +<p>Falteringly, and in the affected and finical tone he not infrequently +adopted, he told the story of his youth, commenting on the +everlasting discord between his father and his mother and the +disagreeable quarrels that used to take place at home. He said +that just as soon as his mother would ask that something be done, +his father would demand the opposite. The children soon saw +that father was going his way and mother hers; they were not +unaware of the fact that their parents cordially distrusted each other +and even went so far as to lay traps for each other. He insisted +that his mother, with all her amiability and gentleness, was obsessed +with the idea of teasing, annoying, and wounding his father on +that very point where she had already and so often teased, annoyed, +and wounded him before; and that this lack of reason and consideration +on her part, coupled with the absence of kindness and +candour on his, had made the paternal home a hell, torn at the +hearts of the growing children, and in time so hardened them +that they suspected every friendly face they saw, and withdrew, +as if so from something vile, from every hand that was reached +out to them. He related further that in this loveless wilderness +brother and sister had been drawn to each other, that in Emilia’s +heart, and his own as well, this mutual friendship was cherished +as a sacred, inviolable possession, so sacred that it impelled them +in time to establish a league against all the rest of the world. How +did they conduct themselves once this league had been founded? +If they read a book it was in common; they kept no secrets from +each other, advised each other, and shared their happiness and +sorrow equally, until one fine day Emilia’s father appeared before +her, and informed her that Count Urlich had asked for her hand +and that he had promised that he should have it.</p> + +<p>At this point in the story, Eberhard became silent; he bit his +lips; his ashen face, that had never before reminded Agatha so +much of the old Baron, betrayed an incurable grief.</p> + +<p>Agatha was familiar with this incident, in rough outline; but +as Eberhard related it, it stirred her soul to the very depths. “One +must try to forget,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Forget? No, that I cannot do; never have been able to do. +Be it a matter of virtue or of vice, I cannot forget. Emilia, then +still half child and only half woman, was made flexible in time. +But that my mother did not do everything in her power to prevent +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>this gruesome deed, and that it caused her to sink deeper and +deeper into the coils of domestic anguish by reason of her innate +and gnawing weakness—that was the bitterest experience of my +entire life.”</p> + +<p>“But she is your mother, Eberhard. Never in the history of the +human family has a son had the right to condemn his mother.”</p> + +<p>“That is news to me,” replied Eberhard coldly. “Mothers are +human beings like any one else. Even mothers can commit a sin +by filling their children with the poison of distrust and disgust +with life. Father and mother, parents: they are a symbol, a +glorious one when they hover above us and around us, worthy of +respect and calling for filial veneration. But if I am bound to +them only by the ties of duty, they are not symbols; they are mere +phantoms, conceptions of human speech. There is no duty but the +duty of love.”</p> + +<p>Sylvia had sat in perfect silence. Unconsciously she had followed +the most beautiful law of harmonious souls: to wield an +influence, to have power, not through the use of words and the +elaboration of reasons, but by a pure life, an unquestioned existence. +Agreement and disagreement lay like a play of light and shadow on +her brow.</p> + +<p>In this way she reminded Eberhard more and more of Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the power of this memory that moved him to +promise that he would go with Agatha on the following day to +his mother. The sole condition he imposed was that he be assured +that he would not meet his father.</p> + +<p>Seeing that he was relentless in this request, Frau von Erfft +conceded it, though she had a reassuring premonition that the events +and the hour would be stronger than will and purpose.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>On entering his mother’s boudoir, Eberhard’s eyes fell at once +on the alabaster clock, the face of which was supported by three +figures representing the daughters of time. In his childhood days +the clock had always had a highly poetic meaning to him: it +seemed to symbolise the fulfilment of his most ardent wishes.</p> + +<p>The Baroness had been prepared for his coming by her sister. +While Eberhard and Sylvia had been standing in the corner room +waiting, a few of the servants had gathered at the door, where +they whispered to each other timidly.</p> + +<p>Eberhard went up to his mother and kissed her hand. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>Baroness’s face was the colour of lead; her eyes were opened as +wide as possible, and yet she seemed hardly conscious. Emilia +stood at one side; her hands were pressed to her bosom, her fingers +were twitching convulsively.</p> + +<p>Frau Agatha endeavoured to relieve the situation of its solemnity +and unnaturalness by making a few humorous remarks about +Eberhard’s hiding place on the hill by the Castle. Baroness +Clotilda looked at her son in anxious and uneasy suspense: “I +scarcely recognise him,” she said with a hoarse voice, “he has +changed so.”</p> + +<p>“You have changed, too, Mother,” said Eberhard, as his chin +sought refuge between the lapels of his coat. He was as stiff as a +poker. Agatha looked at him full of vexation and annoyance. +He acted as though he were being bored by the meeting.</p> + +<p>But it was only a mask. As he looked at the old, indistinct, +tired, bullied face, he became conscious of his mistake: he felt +that he was wrong in saying that “Mothers are also human beings.” +He saw at once that amends had to be made, that action was necessary; +he felt that his next step would lead to inevitable self-contempt +if he neglected the moral deed of repentance.</p> + +<p>As he struggled with himself and stared, as if paralysed, into the +rebellion of his own soul, a certain pair of eyes had forced their +way behind the seeming apathy. A sudden blush came to Sylvia’s +cheeks: she went up to her cousin, and took him by the hand. He +quivered; he saw at once that she had divined what was going on +in his soul, and now she was determined to bring his fight to a +close, a final, definite close. She took him out of the room; he +followed her; she led him through the dining room, the reception +room, the smoking room, the library, and on to his father’s room. +Agatha, Emilia, and the Baroness looked at each other in amazement. +They went to the door of the room, and listened in breathless +suspense.</p> + +<p>Sylvia opened the door rather boldly. The old Baron was +sitting on the leather chair before the stove. His legs were wrapped +in a blanket; the expression on his face was of stony coldness.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he noticed the two when he sprang to his feet as +if the lightning had struck close by him. He shook; he faltered; +he groped about for a physical support; and from his throat there +came a stifled gurgle. That was all.</p> + +<p>Eberhard walked over to him, and reached out his hand.</p> + +<p>For a moment it seemed as if the old man would collapse. A +last flash of hatred and revenge shot from his blue eyes; then he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>too reached out his hand. His arm trembled; thick knots of +quivering muscles formed on his cheeks. Sylvia had gently closed +the door and vanished.</p> + +<p>Anxious minutes passed by and nothing happened, except that +each held the hand of the other and each looked into the eyes +of the other. The silence was broken only by the crackling of +the fire in the stove.</p> + +<p>“Just at the right time,” murmured the old Baron, without +looking up and as if lost in meditation, “just at the right time.”</p> + +<p>Eberhard made no reply. He stood as still, as motionless, as +silent, and with his heels as close together as if he were a young +officer facing his superior in command.</p> + +<p>After a while he wheeled about and slowly left the room.</p> + +<p>Sylvia was waiting in the library. In the twilight it was possible +to see only the vague outline of her body.</p> + +<p>Eberhard took hold of her and whispered: “I really believe that +I no longer have a father.”</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>That same night the old Baron had left. He got up in the +middle of the night; at four o’clock his valet accompanied him to +the station.</p> + +<p>The next morning two letters were found lying on his writing +desk: one was addressed to Eberhard, the other to the Baroness. +The latter contained nothing more than a few words of farewell. +The former was more detailed. It expressed the Baron’s satisfaction +at the fact that Eberhard, whom he welcomed as the head +of the house, had returned, and plainly indicated that all the +necessary legal steps would be taken in a very short while to give +him complete authority as his heir and successor. The letter closed +with this surprising sentence: “So far as I am personally concerned, +I am planning to enter the Catholic Church, in order to spend the +remainder of my misapplied life at Viterbo in the Dominican +Convent of Della Guercia.”</p> + +<p>There was no explanation, no unusual display of feeling, no +confession, nothing but the naked fact.</p> + +<p>The Baroness was neither surprised nor shocked. She fell into +a mute, melancholy brooding, and then said: “He never was happy, +never in his whole life. I never heard him laugh a really whole-souled +laugh; and living with him has made me forget how to +laugh myself. His heart has been from time immemorial a sort +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>of convent, an abode of darkness, a place of sternness. He has +found his way home at last, and is probably tired from the long +journey on the way to his soul.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, Clotilda!” cried Frau von Erfft. “What you say +about his laughing may be true, and a man who cannot laugh is +half animal. But do you mean to tell me that an intelligent +man must resort to such means to find peace with himself and his +God? A man who is under obligations to set an example for +others? Is there not enough darkness in men’s heads already? +Is it necessary to put out the torches of those who stand guard? +My sense of pardon is not so elaborate. I prefer to be a child +of the world and associate with those who are regarded as heathens, +and who have given us works of light and illumination.”</p> + +<p>At these words Eberhard entered. As she looked into his face, +Frau von Erfft thought: “There is another who can’t laugh.”</p> + +<p>The Baron’s change of religious views caused the greatest excitement +throughout the entire country. The liberal newspapers published +fulminatory articles; flaming protests were made in the clubs +against the surreptitious propaganda of Rome. The ultramontane +party leaders rejoiced and made capital out of the marvellous +return of such a sceptic to the bosom of the Church which alone +can save the souls of men: they used the case as a bait for fresh +recruits and as a means to fill the old regulars with greater fire +and enthusiasm. Through the homes blew a breath of a tyrannical +priesthood and spiritual gagging.</p> + +<p>Eberhard adapted himself to his changed condition quickly and +with but little apparent effort: the chaos of opinions left him +virtually unmoved. To become the master of so much and so +many people, and to do it so suddenly, necessitated dignity, a clear +eye, and a firm hand. His being was in no danger from an excess +of zeal or up-start conceit, suffer though he might from too great +seriousness and his preference for a place in the shadow. Strangely +enough, the abundance of his responsibilities made him more +cheerful. And where he was unable to take his part in the world +of outward unrest, Sylvia’s influence interceded and made it possible +for him to do what was expected of him.</p> + +<p>In May he accompanied her and her mother to Erfft. There +they took long walks together every day, and talked a great deal +about Eleanore. At first he spoke with noticeable reserve. But +when he felt that he had gained the confidence of his auditor, +and she his, he spoke quite candidly, so candidly in truth that +Sylvia came to look upon his action as one of inner liberation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p><p>When he told of Eleanore’s marriage to Daniel Nothafft, Sylvia +interrupted him, and asked a number of questions concerning +Daniel. “Oh, yes, he was our guest once; he is the Kapellmeister,” +she said. And then she told him all about Daniel’s visit at Erfft, +and did it with a smile in which there were both indulgence and +re-awakened astonishment.</p> + +<p>Her smile made the same appeal to Eberhard that Eleanore’s had. +And yet, when he was in Sylvia’s company, he seemed to recognise +more distinctly than ever what had drawn him with such irresistible +power to Eleanore, possibly because Sylvia was of a less ardent and +forceful nature. He could not exactly express it in words; he +merely felt that it was the unknown realm of tones, the unknown +melting of melodies, the ringing order of the music transformed +into soul.</p> + +<p>At the beginning of June, Sylvia went back to Nuremberg with +Eberhard and her parents. A few days later the betrothal took +place in the baronial residence.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Herr Carovius had been paid. The consortium of silent backers +had been dissolved.</p> + +<p>Never in the history of finance had there been a satisfied creditor +who was so unhappy as Herr Carovius. He was without a goal, +and the sign posts had been destroyed. He had received his +money; so far so good. His share of the profit was something +over sixty thousand marks. But what was this in comparison with +the great noise? What comparison was there between living in +ease and the gorgeous sight of falling stars? What attraction +could the world offer him after this hopeful affair, which had +begun as a tragedy, and had increased in interest and suspense +until one was justified in believing that all the contradictory forces +in human nature were going to collide with one mighty bang, +when, in reality, the whole incident flattened out into an ordinary +drama of emotion, with the curtain going down on reconciliation +all around?</p> + +<p>But this was not the sole reason why Herr Carovius, up until +this time a most elastic figure, one of those imperturbable bachelors +for whom no hurdle was too high, suddenly felt that he was +growing old. His soul was filled with unrest; he was seeing bad +omens; he feared there was going to be a change in the weather.</p> + +<p>He felt an inner hunger, and yet he somehow lacked appetite +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>for his kind of things. “Down and out, lost and no good,” he +sighed within. But those who had got rich at his expense could +not possibly succeed. This much he knew.</p> + +<p>He began to lose his hair; he became rheumatic. As soon as +the thermometer began to fall he shivered; if it rained he stayed +at home. He began to study medicine, all by himself. He took +up the various remedies of our remote ancestors. He read the +works of Paracelsus, and declared that all those who had written +on medicine since Paracelsus were quacks and poison-mixers.</p> + +<p>His ideas with regard to music became also more and more +strange and bizarre. He had discovered an old Nuremberg composer +by the name of Staden. His opera entitled “Seelewig”—the +first of all German operas, by the way—he insisted was the +very zenith of musical art, eminently superior to Mozart and Bach. +He played arias and melodies from “Seelewig” to Dorothea.</p> + +<p>“Now, when you can get that,” he exclaimed, “when you come +to the point where I can see from your playing what is in it and +at the bottom of it, Heaven and Hell in one stroke of the bow, +then, you little jackanapes, I’m going to make you my heiress.”</p> + +<p>That was precisely what Dorothea had been longing to hear; +it confirmed her calculations and crowned her dreams. To hear +these words roll from her uncle’s tongue had been her ambition; +and she had spared no pains to arrive at her goal.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius was not spoiled. Since the days his sister had +kept house for him, no woman had ever concerned herself about +him in the least. But at that time he was young; and he had +wheedled himself into believing that the women were merely +waiting for him, that all he had to do was to beckon to them +with his finger and they would come rushing up to him in battalions. +But because he had dreaded the idea of making an unhappy +selection, and by reason of the expense of the enterprise, +he had neglected to give the necessary signal, and hence had +been so generous as to leave them in complete possession of their +freedom.</p> + +<p>He never knew until now that the soft, little hand of a woman +could bring out effects as if they had come from the touch of a +magic wand. “What a pleasant little phiz Döderlein’s offspring +has,” he thought. And if Dorothea, who had made him believe +that she was visiting him on the sly, though her father had given +his consent long ago, chanced to remain away for a few days, he +would become wild with rage, and go into the kitchen and chop +wood merely to enjoy the sensation of destroying something.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></p><p>Moreover, the music lessons Dorothea was taking at Herr Carovius’s +expense gave the girl a new conception of her art, and +awakened in her a measure of wholesome ambition. Satisfied as +he was with her docility and her progress, Herr Carovius referred +to her at times as the coming female Paganini, and pictured himself +in the rôle of a demoniacal impresario.</p> + +<p>But the thing about Dorothea that struck him most forcibly and +filled him with such astonishment was her relation to mirrors.</p> + +<p>A mirror exercised a tremendous influence on her. If she passed +by one, her face became coloured with a charming blush of desire; +if she stood before one and saw her picture reflected in it, she +was filled, first with sexual unrest, and then with retreating uncertainty. +In the brightness of her eyes there was always a longing +for the mirror. Her gait and her gestures seemed to have duties +imposed on them by the mirror; it seemed to be their task to +prepare surprises. Her whole body seemed to live in common with +a spectral mirror sister, and to catch sight of this beloved sister +was her first wish, fulfilment of which she effected as often as +possible.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Dorothea had succeeded in making it clear to her father that +it would be highly advantageous to her, as the nearest relative, to +show Herr Carovius every conceivable favour. Andreas Döderlein +baulked at first; but he could not refuse recognition to the far-seeing +penetration of his daughter.</p> + +<p>When she told him of her appearance in the baronial residence, +and mentioned the enormous sum Herr Carovius had collected +with the mien of an undaunted victor, Döderlein became serious; +he stared into space and did some hard thinking. Recalling the +now superannuated feud, he preserved the appearance of inapproachability, +and said: “We will not debase ourselves for the sake +of Mammon.”</p> + +<p>A few days later, however, he said, quite of his own free will, +sighing like a man who has gone through some great moral struggle +and come out of it victorious, “Well, do as you think best, my +child, but don’t let me know anything about it.”</p> + +<p>His argument, had he expressed it in so many words, would have +been something like the following: We are poor; we are living +from hand to mouth. The negligible dowry Herr Carovius gave +his sister has been used up. Marguerite would have been perfectly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>justified in putting in her claim for thirty thousand marks, but +Herr Carovius settled with her for only twelve thousand, and +there was no possibility of redress. For Herr Carovius had +wheedled his sister into giving him a written statement that she +was satisfied with the sum of twelve thousand: the remaining +eighteen thousand was the price he demanded in return for her +consent to have his sister, who was slavishly submissive to him, +marry the man of her choice.</p> + +<p>“I have been duped,” said Andreas Döderlein, and bore up +under his grudge with becoming dignity.</p> + +<p>The director of the conservatory died, and Andreas Döderlein, +who, by virtue of his achievements and his personality, had the +first right to the vacant position, was appointed to it. His former +colleagues were stout in their contention that the appointment cost +him many a bitter visit to the powers that be. Döderlein read envy +in their eyes and smiled to himself.</p> + +<p>But it was a hard life. “Art cannot live without bread,” said +Döderlein, with a heroic glance into the future. “But oh, what +works I could bring out if I only had time! Give me time, time, +and,” swinging his hands cloudward, “the eagles above would +greet me!”</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>Herr Carovius and death were intimate friends. Whenever +death had an errand to run, it always knocked on Herr Carovius’s +door, as if to find a person who approved of its deeds and who +had a just appreciation of them, for there were so many of the +other kind.</p> + +<p>But when Herr Carovius heard that Eleanore Nothafft had died, +he felt that his old friend had gone a bit too far. He was +touched. He was seized with griping pains in the abdominal +region, and locked himself up for the period of one whole day in +his court room. There he was taken down with catalepsy; his face +went through a horrible transformation: it came to look as if all +the wickedness, hopelessness, and despair of the man who had never +become reconciled to life through love had been concentrated in it +and petrified.</p> + +<p>His forebodings had come true.</p> + +<p>Eleanore’s funeral took place on a rainy June day. Herr Carovius, +dressed in his shabby old yellow raincoat with its big pockets, +was present. There were also many others present. Every face +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>was touched with grief; every eye was filled with tears, like the +earth round about. Those who had not known her had at least +heard of her. They had known that she had been there in some +capacity, just as one hears of some unusual phenomenon among the +celestial bodies, and that she was gone; that she was no more to be +seen. For one moment at least all these people were changed +into deep, seeing, feeling beings; for one moment they laid aside +their fruitless activities, their petty misdeeds, desires, anxieties, +and vanities, and became conscious of the fact that the truth, purity, +love, and loveliness of this earth had been decreased.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius went home and made a lime-blossom tea; such +a tea had often helped him when he had not felt well.</p> + +<p>The rain dripped down on the kitchen window sill. Herr +Carovius said to himself: “That is my last funeral.”</p> + +<p>Along in the evening Dorothea came in and after her Philippina +Schimmelweis. Herr Carovius had paid her many a penny for her +services as a spy, and now she wanted to hear what he had to say +to this last and greatest of misfortunes. His infatuated interest +in everything Eleanore did had been a source of unmitigated +pleasure to her, though she had been exceedingly cautious never to +let him see how she felt about it all. On the contrary, she never +failed to affect a hypocritical seriousness in the face of all his +questions, orders, instructions, and caustic observations. She had +egged him on; she had flattered him; she had used every opportunity +to fan the flames of his ridiculous hopes. Owing to this the +confidence between the two had grown to considerable proportion; +the man’s senile madness, born of his love for Eleanore, had even +aroused Philippina’s lewd lasciviousness.</p> + +<p>She said she would have to be going home; the child was +asleep; and though she had locked the front door, you could never +tell what was going to happen over there. “My God,” she said, +“things take place in that house that are never heard of in any +other home.”</p> + +<p>The presence of Dorothea disturbed and annoyed her. She sat +down on the kitchen bench, and looked at the young girl with +poison in her eyes. Dorothea on the other hand found it painfully +difficult to conceal her disgust at the mere sight of Philippina: +her ugliness defied descriptive adjectives. Dorothea never took +her eyes off the creature who sat there talking in a screeching +voice, and who, as if her normal unattractiveness were not enough, +had her head bandaged.</p> + +<p>The fact is that Philippina had the toothache; for this reason +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>her face was wrapped in a loud, checkered cloth, while out from +underneath her hat stuck two little tassels.</p> + +<p>She told the story of Eleanore’s death with much satisfaction +to herself, and with that delight in the tragic in which she revelled +by instinct. “And now,” she said, “old Jordan sits over there in +his attic rooms and sobs, and Daniel goes moping about, refusing +to eat any food and looking at you with eyes that would fill you +with fear even if everything else was as it should be.”</p> + +<p>This is the point to which Daniel has brought things, she +showed in her gratuitous report, in which there was an attempt +to chide him for his waywardness: He has put two women under +the ground, has a helpless child in the house, is out of a job, is +not making a cent. Now what could this kind of doings lead to? +Judge Rübsam’s wife had paid the funeral expenses. Why, you +know, Daniel didn’t even know what they were talking about +when the bill came in, and old Jordan, he didn’t have twenty +marks to his name. She swore she wasn’t going to stand for it +much longer, and if Daniel didn’t quit his piano-strumming—he +wasn’t getting a cent for it—she was going to know a thing or +two.</p> + +<p>Quite contrary to his established custom, Herr Carovius failed +to show the slightest interest in her gabble; at least he made no +concessions to her. Nor did he fuss and fume; he gazed into +space, and seemed to be thinking about many serious things all at +the same time. His silence made Philippina raging mad. She +jumped up and left without saying good-bye to him, slamming +first the room door and then the hall door behind her.</p> + +<p>Dorothea was standing by the piano rummaging around in some +note books. Her thoughts were on what she had just been +hearing.</p> + +<p>She remembered Daniel Nothafft quite well. She knew that +there was an irreconcilable feud between him and her father. +She had seen him; people had pointed out the man with the angry +looking eyes to her on the street. She had felt at the time as if +she had already talked with him, though she could not say when +or where. She had a vague idea as to what people said about him, +and she knew that he was looked upon in the city as the adversary +of evil himself.</p> + +<p>Her breast was filled with an aimless longing. Her blood +began to run warm, the fusty <i>milieu</i> in which she just then chanced +to be cleared up and began to bestir itself. She took her violin +and began to play a Hungarian dance, while an enlivening smile +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>flitted across her face, and her eyes shone with the audacity of an +ambitious and temperamental girl.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius raised his head: “Tempo!” he exclaimed, +“Tempo!” and began to beat time with his hands and stamp the +floor with his feet.</p> + +<p>Dorothea smiled, shook her head, and played more and more +rapidly.</p> + +<p>“Tempo,” howled Herr Carovius. “Tempo!”</p> + +<p>The barking of a sad dog was wafted into the room from the +court below. It was Cæsar: he was on his last legs.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>Daniel’s mother had come; she had brought little Eva along.</p> + +<p>Marian had learned of Eleanore’s death through the newspaper. +No one had thought of her; no one had written to her. +She had not read it in the newspaper herself. The doctor in +Eschenbach, who had subscribed to the <i>Fränkischer Herold</i>, had +read it one morning, and had given her the paper with considerable +hesitation, calling her attention to the death notice.</p> + +<p>She was not present at the funeral. But she went out to the +cemetery and prayed by Eleanore’s grave.</p> + +<p>She appreciated Daniel’s loss. When she met him he was +precisely as she thought he would be. She recognised her son in +his great grief and mute despair: he was nearer to her then than at +any other time of his life. She honoured his grief; she did not +need to decrease it or divert it. She was silent, just as Daniel +himself was silent. All she did was to lay her hand on his forehead +occasionally. He murmured: “Mother, oh Mother!” She +replied: “Now don’t! Don’t think of me!”</p> + +<p>She said to herself: “When an Eleanore dies in the full bloom +of youth, one must mourn until the soul of its own accord again +grows hungry for life.”</p> + +<p>At first Eva had tried to play with her little step-sister; but +Philippina had chased her from the room. Once she turned +against the enraged daughter of Jason Philip Schimmelweis, and +said: “I’ll tell my father on you!”</p> + +<p>“Yes? You’ll tell your father? Well, tell him! Who cares?” +replied Philippina scornfully. “But who is your father? What +is he? Where is he? In Pomerania perhaps?” Whereupon she +added in a sing-song voice: “Pomerania is burnt to the ground. +Fly, cockchafer, fly!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span></p><p>“My father? He’s in the room there,” replied Eva surprised +and offended: “I am in his house, and little Agnes is my sister.”</p> + +<p>Philippina tore open her eyes and her mouth: “Your father—is +in the room—” she stammered, “and little Agnes—is your sister?” +She got up, seized Eva by the shoulders, and dragged her +across the floor into the room where Daniel and Marian were +sitting. With an outburst of laughter that sounded as though +she were not quite in her right mind, and with an expression of +impudence and rage on her face, she panted forth her indignation +in the following terms: “This brat says Daniel is her father and +Agnes is her sister! A scurvy chit—I’ll say!”</p> + +<p>Marian, terrified, sprang to her feet, ran over to Eva, and +began to scream: “Let her go, take your hands off that child!” +Eva was pale, the tears were rolling down her cheeks, her little +arms were stretched out as if in urgent need of help from an +older hand. Philippina let go of her and stepped back. “Is it +really true?” she whispered, “is it really true?” Marian knelt +down and picked up her foster child: “Now you mind your own +business, you rogue,” she said to Philippina.</p> + +<p>“Daniel?” Philippina turned to Daniel with uplifted arms, and +repeated, “Daniel?” She seemed to be challenging him to speak; +and to be reproaching him for having deceived her. There was +something quite uncanny about the way she said, “Daniel? +Daniel?”</p> + +<p>“You go back and mind Agnes!” said Daniel, worried as he had +never been before: he felt more than ever under obligations to +Philippina. And what could he do now without her? She was +the sole guardian of his child. His mother could not remain in +the city; she had to make her living, and that she could do only +over in Eschenbach. Her business was located there; and there +Eva was growing up in peace and happiness. On the other hand, +he did not feel that it would be possible or advisable to take +Agnes away from Philippina, even if his mother saw fit to adopt +her too. Philippina was attached to the child with an ape-like +affection. And more than this: Who would take care of old Jordan +if Philippina were discharged? Daniel could not make his +bed or get his meals.</p> + +<p>Philippina went out. “The damned scoundrel!” she said as soon +as she had left the room. She clenched her horny fists, and continued +Daniel’s life history: “The brute has a bastard, he has. +You wait, you little chit, and the first chance I get I’ll scratch +your eyes out!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span></p><p>Taking the child on her lap, Marian sat down by Daniel’s +side. “Don’t cry, Eva, don’t cry; we’re going back home now in a +minute.”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked at his mother most attentively, and told her how +Philippina had chanced to come into his family. He told her all +about Jason Philip’s attempt to rob him of his inheritance, and +how his own daughter had betrayed him; how his father had +taken three thousand talers to Jason Philip; how Jason Philip +had been forced to hand over a part of the money when Jordan +was in trouble because of his son; and how he had waived his +claims to the rest of the money.</p> + +<p>Marian’s head sank low on her breast. “Your father was a +remarkable man, Daniel,” she said after a long silence, “but he +never did understand people; and the person whom he misunderstood +most of all was his wife. He was like a man who is blind, +but who does not want to let it be known that he is blind: he +walks around, but where does he go? He stands still and has not +the faintest idea where he is. And by the way, Daniel, it seems +to me that you are a little bit like him. Open your eyes, Daniel, +I beg you, open your eyes!”</p> + +<p>The child in her lap had fallen asleep. Daniel looked into +Eva’s face—yes, he opened his eyes—and as he saw this delicate, +sweet, charming countenance so close before him, he could no +longer control himself. He turned to the wall, and cried as if +his heart would break: “I am a murderer!”</p> + +<p>“No, Daniel,” said Marian gently, “or if you are, then everybody +who lives is a murderer, the dead of the past being the +victims.”</p> + +<p>Daniel writhed in agony and gnashed his teeth.</p> + +<p>“Father is in the room there,” whispered Eva in her dreams.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>The hardest of all for Marian was to get along with old +Jordan; for he was only a shadow of his former self. He never +entered Daniel’s room; if Marian wanted to see him she went +upstairs, and there he sat, quiet, helpless, extinguished, a picture +of utter dereliction.</p> + +<p>He never mentioned his sorrows; it made him restless to see that +Marian sympathised with him. When she did, he became quite +courteous; he even tried to act the part of a man of the world. +The effect of this assumed sprightliness, seen from the background +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>of his physical impoverishment and spiritual decay, was +terrifying.</p> + +<p>Marian hoped to hear something from him concerning Daniel’s +present situation. She knew, in a general way, that he was +in profound distress, that he was living in most straightened circumstances, +and this worried her tremendously. But she wanted +to know how he stood in the world; whether people felt there +was anything to him; and whether music was something from which +a man could make a decent living. On this last point her distrust +was as strong as ever; her fear showed no signs of weakening. +It was Eleanore, and she only, that had given her a measure of +confidence: it seemed that Eleanore’s disposition, her very presence, +had inspired her with a vague, far-away idea of music. But now +Eleanore was gone, and all her old doubts returned.</p> + +<p>Jordan however became painfully secretive whenever she referred +to Daniel. He seemed to be grieved at the mere mention +of his name. He would merely look at the door, tuck his hands +up his coat-sleeves, and draw his head down between his shoulders.</p> + +<p>Once he said: “Can you explain to me, my good woman, why +I am alive? Can you throw any light on such a preposterous +paradox as my present existence? My son—a wretch, vanished +without a trace, so far as I am concerned no longer living. My +daughters, both of them, in the grave; my dear wife also. I have +been a man, a husband, and a father; that is, I have <i>been</i> a father! +My existence scorns the laws and purposes of nature. To eat, to +drink, to sleep—oh, what repulsive occupations! And yet, if I +do not eat, I get hungry; if I do not drink, I get thirsty; if I do +not sleep, I get sick. How simple, how aimless it all is! For me +the birds no longer sing, the bells no longer ring, the musicians +have no more music.”</p> + +<p>Owing to her desire to find consolation of some kind and at +any price, she turned to Eberhard and Sylvia; they were now +visiting Daniel almost every day. She liked them; there was so +much consideration for other people in their behaviour, so much +delicacy and refinement in their conversation. Sylvia was not in +the least offended by Daniel’s sullen silence; she treated him with +a respect and deference that made Marian feel good; for it was +proof to her that in the eyes of good and noble people Daniel +stood in high esteem. The Baron seemed in some mysterious way +to be continually talking about Eleanore, though he never mentioned +her name. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded +her of Eleanore; there was something supersensuous in its power. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>Marian often felt as though this strange nobleman and her son +were brothers and at the same time enemies, as seen in the light +of painful memories. Sylvia also seemed to have the same feeling; +but she found nothing objectionable in the relation.</p> + +<p>One day, as Marian accompanied the two to the hall door, she +decided to pick up her courage; and she did. “Well, how do you +think he is going to make out?” she asked; “he has no work; as +a matter of fact he never speaks of work. What will that lead to?”</p> + +<p>“We have been thinking about that,” replied Sylvia, “and I +believe a way has been found to help him. He will hear about it +in a short while. But he must not suspect that we have anything +to do with it.” She looked at her fiancé; he nodded approvingly.</p> + +<p>Eberhard and Sylvia knew perfectly well from the very beginning +that there could be no thought of lending Daniel money. +Gifts, large or small, merely humiliated him; they disgraced him. +It was a case where eagerness to serve on the part of those who +have meets with insurmountable obstacles, whether they wish to +be lavish in their generosity or of seeming calculation. There was +no use to appeal to delicacy; attenuating provisos would not help; +small deceptions practised in the spirit of love would prove ineffectual. +Riches stood face to face with poverty, and was as helpless +as poverty usually is when obliged to enter the lists against riches. +The case was striking, but not unique.</p> + +<p>Having made up her mind to come to the assistance of the +musician, Sylvia turned to her mother. But it was idle to count +on the backing of the Baroness: Andreas Döderlein had so poisoned +her mind against Daniel that the mere mention of his name caused +her brow to wrinkle, her lips to drop.</p> + +<p>Agatha von Erfft got in touch, by letter, with some business +people who were in a position to give her some practical advice. +Their assistance was helpful in that it at least saved her the invaluable +time she might have lost by appealing to the wrong people. +One day she appeared before Eberhard and Sylvia with her plans +all drawn up.</p> + +<p>One of the most reputable music houses of Mayence had been +nursing the idea for years of bringing out a pretentious collection +of mediæval church music. A great deal of material had already +been assembled under the supervision of a writer on musical subjects +who had recently died. But there was still much to be collected. +To do this, it would be necessary to go on long journeys, +and these would entail the expenditure of a good deal of money. +Moreover, it was necessary to find a man who would not be afraid +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>of the work attached to the undertaking, and on whose judgment +one could rely without doubt or cavil. Owing to the fact that the +expenses up to the present had far exceeded the initial calculations, +and since it seemed impossible to engage the right sort of man +to place in charge of the work, the publisher had become first +sceptical and then positive; positive that he would invest no more +money in it.</p> + +<p>Agatha had heard of this some time ago. That the enterprise +might be revived she learned from direct inquiry; indirect investigation +confirmed what she had been told. But the publisher was +unwilling to assume all the financial responsibility; he was looking +for a patron who would be disposed to invest capital in the plan. +If such a person could be found, he was willing to place Daniel +Nothafft, whose name was now known to him, in the responsible +position of making the collections and editing them. There would +be a good deal of work connected with the undertaking: the treasures +of the archives, libraries, and convents would have to be investigated; +corrections would have to be made; notes would have to be +written; and the entire work would have to be seen through the +press. To do this would take several years. The publisher consequently +insisted that whoever was placed in charge should sign a +contract to remain until the work had been finished, he in turn +agreeing to pay the editor a salary of three thousand marks a +year.</p> + +<p>Eberhard made careful inquiries as to the standing of the firm, +and finding that it enjoyed a rating well above the average, he +agreed to furnish the requisite capital.</p> + +<p>A few days after the conversation between Sylvia and Marian, +Daniel received a letter in the morning mail from Philander and +Sons, requesting him to accept the position, a detailed description +of which was given. In the event of his acceptance, all he had to +do was to sign the enclosed contract.</p> + +<p>He read the letter carefully and quietly from beginning to +end. His face did not brighten up. He walked back and forth +in the room a few times, and then went to the window and looked +out. “It seems to rain every day this summer,” he said.</p> + +<p>Marian had returned to the table. She took the letter with +the enclosed contract and read both of them. Her heart beat with +joy, but she was exceedingly careful not to betray her state of +mind to Daniel: she was afraid of his contradictory and crotchety +disposition. She hardly dared look at him, as she waited in anxious +suspense to see what he would do.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p><p>Finally he came back to the table, made a wry face, stared at +the letter, and then said quite laconically: “Church music? Yes, +I will do it.” With that he took his pen, and scrawled his name +to the contract.</p> + +<p>“Thank God,” whispered Marian.</p> + +<p>That afternoon they left Daniel. Eva hung on her father’s +neck, quite unwilling to leave him. Without the least display of +shyness, she kissed him many times, laughing as she did so. She +was overflowing with a natural and whole-hearted love for him. +Daniel offered no resistance. He looked serious. As his eye +caught that of the child, he shuddered at the abundant fulness of +her life; but he was aware at the same time of a promise, and +against this he struggled with all the power there was in him.</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>It was a sunny day in September. Eberhard, who had spent the +entire August at Erfft, had returned to the city to attend to some +urgent business—and also to hasten the arrangements for his coming +wedding.</p> + +<p>As the streets were filled with playing children, he sauntered +along on his way up to the Castle on the hill. He wanted to look +up his little house; he had not been in it for months. He had a +feeling that he would enjoy the quiet up there; he longed to +look back over and into scenes from the past; he wanted to pass in +review the shadowy pictures of his former self; pictures he saw +before him wherever he went, wherever he was. One of these +was always with him; if he found himself in a certain room it +was there; if he went on a long journey it was with him. He +even found it on the faded pages of books he had taken to himself +as companions in his loneliness.</p> + +<p>He hesitated from time to time, stopped, and seemed quite +irresolute. All of a sudden he turned around, and started back +with hasty steps to Ægydius Place. Just as he was entering the +hall of Daniel’s apartment, he met Daniel coming out. He +greeted Eberhard and gave him his hand.</p> + +<p>“I was just going to call for you,” said the Baron. “Won’t you +come with me up to my old hermitage?”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked out through his glasses at a swallow that was just +then circling around over the square; there was something fabulous +in its flight. “To tell you the truth, Baron, I have very little +inclination to gossip at present.” He made the remark with as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>much consideration for the laws of human courtesy as lay within +his power.</p> + +<p>“There must be no gossiping,” said Eberhard. “I have a great +secret, one that I can tell you without saying a word.”</p> + +<p>Daniel went along with him.</p> + +<p>The air in the little house was dead, stuffy. But Eberhard +did not open the windows; he wished to have it as quiet as it was +when they entered. Daniel took a seat on one of the chairs in +the former living room of the Baron. Eberhard thought he had +sat down because he was tired; he therefore took a seat opposite +him. The evening sun cast a slanting ray on an old copper engraving +based on a scene from pastoral life. A mouse played around +in the corner.</p> + +<p>“Well, what is your secret?” asked Daniel brusquely, after they +had sat in perfect silence for some time.</p> + +<p>Eberhard got up, and made a gesture which meant that Daniel +was to follow him. They crossed the narrow hall, climbed up +a pair of small steps, and then Eberhard opened a door leading +into the attic room.</p> + +<p>A stupefying, deadening odour of decayed flowers struck them +in the face. Involuntarily Daniel turned to go, but the Baron +pointed at the walls in absolute silence.</p> + +<p>“What is this? What kind of a room is this?” asked Daniel, +rather forcibly.</p> + +<p>The four walls of the room were completely covered with +bouquets, garlands, and wreaths of withered flowers. The leaves +had fallen from most of them, and were now lying scattered about +the floor. Leaves that had once been green had turned brown; the +grasses and mosses were in shreds, the twigs were dry and brittle. +Many of the bouquets had had ribbons attached to them; these, +once red or blue, were now faded. Others had been bound with +gold tinsel; this had rusted. The slanting rays of the sun fell on +others, and lighted them as it had shone on the copper engraving +in the room below. Through the purple rays could be seen a +dancing stream of dust.</p> + +<p>It was a flower mausoleum; a vault of bouquets, a death-house of +memories. Daniel suspected what it all meant. He felt his +tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth; a chill ran over him. +And when Eberhard at last began to speak, his eyes filled with hot, +gushing tears.</p> + +<p>“The flowers were all picked and bound by her hands, by Eleanore’s +hands,” said Eberhard. And then, after a pause: “She prepared +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>the bouquets for a florist, and I bought them; she had no +idea who bought them.” That was all he said.</p> + +<p>Daniel looked back into his past life, as if an invisible arm +were drawing him to the pinnacle of some high mountain. He +looked, and his soul was dissolved in anxiety, torture, and repentance.</p> + +<p>What had he left? Two graves: that was all. No, he had, +aside from the two graves, a broken harp, some withered flowers, +and a mask of terracotta.</p> + +<p>He looked at the dead stems and withered chalices: Eleanore’s +fingers had once touched all of these. Her fingers were even then +hovering over the dead buds like figures from the realm of spirits. +In the dusty spider webs hung caught at present unused moments, +kind words that were never spoken, consolation that was never +expressed, encouragement, consideration, and happiness that were +allowed to pass unclaimed and unapplied. Oh, this living and not +knowing what the present contains! Oh, this being with a living +life, and remaining unaware of it! This failure to avail one’s +self of a wonderful day, a breathing, pulsing hour! This dragging, +falling, plunging into the night of desire and delusion, this +proud, vain, criminal discontent! O winged creature, winged +creature, where art thou! Where can one call out to thee!</p> + +<p>There was nothing left but two graves, a broken harp, withered +flowers, and a mask! And a fair child here, a foul one there, and +a third that had come into life only to die! And up above all +this, up above even the tip of the mountain top, the gigantic, the +inexpressible, the sea of dreams and dreamed melodies, the breath +of God, the annunciation of infernal darkness, the message of +eternity, the wonders of temporal existence, dance and dancing +pipes, peals of thunder, and sweet weavings of sound—Music!</p> + +<p>It was evening. The Baron closed the door. Daniel reached him +his hand in silence, and then went home.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span><a name="THE_PROMETHEAN_SYMPHONY" id="THE_PROMETHEAN_SYMPHONY"></a>THE PROMETHEAN SYMPHONY</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">During</span> the following autumn and winter, Daniel lived a quiet, +lonely life. In the spring, Sylvia von Auffenberg wrote him a +letter, asking him to come over to Siegmundshof and spend a few +weeks with her and Eberhard. He declined, though he promised +to come later.</p> + +<p>Old Herold visited him occasionally. He told all about the +friction in the conservatory since Döderlein had been in charge, +and contended that the world was on the point of turning into a +pig-stye.</p> + +<p>Herr Seelenfromm also came in from time to time, while +among other visitors were the architect who had a defect in his +speech and Martha Rübsam. Toward the close of the winter Herr +Carovius also called. Socially he had become more nearly possible +than he had been in former years. He still held, however, some +very remarkable views about music.</p> + +<p>Whatever any of the visitors said went in one of Daniel’s ears +and out of the other. It would often happen that there would +be a number of people in his presence, and he would seem to be +listening to them; and yet if you watched his face, you could see +that he was completely absent-minded. If some one turned to +him with a question, he would not infrequently smile like a child, +and make no effort whatsoever to respond. No one had ever noticed +him smile this way before.</p> + +<p>He returned the money Philippina had loaned him at the time +the piano was pawned. Philippina said: “Oi, oi, Daniel, you seem +to be swimming in money!” She brought him the receipt, and +then took the money to her room, where she did a lot of figuring +to see whether the interest had been accurately calculated.</p> + +<p>Little Agnes was sitting on the floor, sucking a stick of candy. +She was always happy when Philippina was around; she was afraid +of her father.</p> + +<p>Friends had told him that his apartment was too large now; +he was advised to give it up and take a smaller one. He became +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>enraged; he said he would never do this voluntarily, for the house +meant a great deal more to him than merely so many rented +rooms; and he insisted that everything be left just as it was.</p> + +<p>One day at the beginning of spring he said to Philippina: “I +am going away for a long time. Watch the child, and don’t let +the old man upstairs suffer for anything. I will send you the +money to keep up the house on the first day of each month, and +you will be held responsible for everything that takes place. +Moreover; I want to pay you a set wage: I will give you five talers +a month. There is no reason why you should work for me for +nothing.”</p> + +<p>The shaking and shuddering that Daniel had often had occasion +to notice in Philippina returned. She shrugged her shoulders, +looked as mean as only she could, and said: “Save your coppers; +you’ll need ’em; you mustn’t try to act so rich all of a sudden; +it ain’t good for your health. If you have any money to spend, +go out and git Agnes a pair of shoes and a decent dress.” Daniel +made no reply.</p> + +<p>Her greediness in money matters had certainly not diminished +since the day she began to pilfer from her parents. She loved +money; she adored the shining metal; she liked to see it and feel +it; she liked to take bank notes in her hands and caress them. It +gave her intense pleasure to think that people looked upon her as +being poor when she was actually carrying more than a thousand +marks around in an old stocking stuffed down in her corset between +her breasts. She loved to hear people complain of hard +times. When a beggar reached out his hand to her on the street, +she felt that he was doing it as an act of homage to her; she would +cause her bosom to heave so that she might feel the presence of +the stocking more keenly. She was pleased to think that one so +young had made herself so secure against future eventualities of +any kind.</p> + +<p>She felt, despite all this, like scratching Daniel’s eyes out when +he spoke of paying her regular monthly wages. This she regarded +as base ingratitude. If it were at all possible for grief to +find ineradicable lodgment in her envious, unenlightened, malicious +soul, Daniel’s offer of so much per month made it so.</p> + +<p>She ran into the kitchen, and hurled knives and forks in the +sink. She went to old Jordan’s room, knocked on his door, and +made him open it; then she told him with all the anger at her +resourceful command that Daniel was going away. “There is +hardly a cent in the house, and he’s going on a jamboree!” she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span>exclaimed. “There is some damned wench back of this. Go tell +him, Herr Inspector, go tell him what a dirty thing it is he’s +doing—going away and leaving his child and his old father in the +lurch. Do it, Herr Inspector, and you’ll get potato dumplings, +ginger-bread, and sauce for dinner next Sunday.”</p> + +<p>Jordan looked at Philippina timidly. His mouth watered for the +food she had promised him; for she was holding him down to a +near-starvation diet. He was often so hungry that he would sneak +into the delicatessen shop, and buy himself ten pfennigs’ worth of +real food.</p> + +<p>“I will make inquiry as to the reason for his going,” murmured +Jordan, “but I hardly believe that I will be able to move him one +way or the other.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you go out and take a little walk; git a bit of fresh +air,” commanded Philippina; “I’ve got to straighten up your room. +Your windows need washing; you can’t see through ’em for dirt.”</p> + +<p>Late that evening Daniel came up to say good-bye to Jordan.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going?” asked the old man.</p> + +<p>“I want to see a little of the German Empire,” replied Daniel. +“I have some business to attend to up in the North, in the cities +and also out in the country.”</p> + +<p>“Good luck to you,” said Jordan, much oppressed, “good luck +to you, my dear son. How long are you going to be gone?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know yet; possibly for years.”</p> + +<p>“For years?” asked Jordan. He looked at the floor; he tried to +keep his eyes on the floor under his feet: “Then I suppose we +might as well say good-bye forever.”</p> + +<p>Daniel shook his head. “It makes no difference when I return, +I will find you here,” he said with a note of strange assurance in +his voice. “When fate has treated a man too harshly, there seems +to come a time when it no longer bothers him; it evades him, in +fact. It seems to me that this is the case with you: you are quite +fateless.”</p> + +<p>Jordan made no reply. He opened his eyes as if in fear, and +sighed.</p> + +<p>The next morning Daniel left home. He wore a brown hunting +jacket buttoned close up to his neck with hartshorn buttons. Over +this hung a top-coat and a cape. His broad-brimmed hat overshadowed +his face, which looked young, although so serious and distracted +that voices, glances, and sounds of any kind seemed to +rebound from it like swift-running water from a smooth stone wall.</p> + +<p>Philippina carried his luggage to the station. Her dress was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span>literally smothered in garish, gaudy ribbons. The women in the +market-place laughed on seeing her until they got a colic.</p> + +<p>When Daniel took leave from her and boarded the train, she +did not open her mouth; she wrinkled her forehead, rubbed the +ends of her fingers against each other, stood perfectly quiet, and +looked at the ground. Long after the train had left the station, +she was still to be seen standing there in that unique position. A +station official went up to her, and, with poorly concealed ridicule +at the rare phenomenon, asked her what she was waiting for.</p> + +<p>She turned her back on him, and started off. She came back by +way of St. James’s Place, and talked for a quarter of an hour with +her friend Frau Hadebusch. It was Sunday. Benjamin Dorn was +just coming home from church. Seeing Philippina, he made a +profound bow.</p> + +<p>Frau Hadebusch slapped Philippina on the hip, and smiled at +her knowingly.</p> + +<p>Herr Francke was no longer living at Frau Hadebusch’s: he was +in jail. He had promised to marry the cook of a certain distinguished +family; but instead of hastening the coming of the happy +day, he had gambled away the savings of his bride-to-be.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Daniel had a letter of introduction to the Prior of the Monastery +at Löhriedt. He was looking for a manuscript that was supposed +to have been written by a contemporary of Orlando di +Lasso, if not by Di Lasso himself.</p> + +<p>He remained for over two months, working at his collection. +He found his association with the monks quite agreeable, and they +liked him. One of them, who held him in especially high regard +because of his ability as an organist, gave him to understand that it +was a matter of unaffected regret to him that he could not greet +him, Protestant that he was, with the confidence that a man of his +singular distinction deserved.</p> + +<p>“So! I wish I were a Jew,” said Daniel to him, “then you would +have a really unqualified opportunity to see what God can do +without your assistance.”</p> + +<p>The monk in question was called Father Leonhard; he was a +short, wiry fellow with black eyes and a dark complexion. He +seemed to have had a great deal of experience with the world, and +to have no little cause for contrition and repentance: there was +nothing conventional about his religious practices; they were, on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span>the contrary, of almost redundant fervour and renunciation. Daniel +was impressed by the man’s faith, though his soul shuddered +when in his presence: he regarded him as an enemy, a Philistine, +and preferred not to look at him at all.</p> + +<p>He lived close by the monastery in the house of a railroad +official. Father Leonhard came in to visit him once. Daniel was +sitting by the window busily engaged in making some corrections. +The Father looked about the room: his eyes fell on a round, +wooden box lying on a chair; it looked like a cake box.</p> + +<p>“The people at home have sent you something to nibble at,” +remarked the Father, as Daniel got up.</p> + +<p>Daniel riveted his eyes on the monk, took the box, hesitated for +a while, and then opened it. In it, carefully packed in sawdust, +was the mask of Zingarella. It was a part of Daniel’s meagre luggage; +wherever he went it followed him.</p> + +<p>Father Leonhard sprang back terrified. “What does that mean?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“It means sin and purification,” said Daniel, holding the mask up +in the light of the setting sun. “It means grief and redemption, +despair and mercy, love and death, chaos and form.”</p> + +<p>From that day on, Father Leonhard never said another word to +Daniel Nothafft. And whenever the strange musician chanced to +play the organ, the monk arose as quickly as possible, left the +church, and sought out some place where the tones could not +reach him.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>That summer Daniel came to Aix-la-Chapelle and the region of +Liége, Louvain, and Malines. From there he wandered on foot to +Ghent and Bruges.</p> + +<p>In places where he had to make investigations, he was obliged +to depend upon the letters he received from his publisher to make +himself understood. Condemned to silence, he lived very much +alone; he was a stranger in a strange land.</p> + +<p>He had no interest in sights. It was rare that he looked at old +paintings. The beautiful never caused him to stop unless it actually +blocked his way. He went about as if in between two walls. +He followed his nose, turned around only with the greatest reluctance, +and never felt tired until he was ready to lie down to +sleep.</p> + +<p>And even when he was tired the feeling that he was being +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>robbed of something gnawed at his soul; he was restless even when +he slept. Haste coloured his eye, fashioned his step, and moulded +his deeds. He ate his meals in haste, wrote his letters in haste, +and talked in haste.</p> + +<p>It pained him to feel that men were looking at him. Although +he invariably sought out the most deserted corner of whatever inn +he chanced to stop at, and thereby avoided becoming, so far as he +might, the target of the curious, he was nevertheless gaped at, +watched, and studied wherever he went. For everything about +him was conspicuous: the energy of his gestures, the agility of his +mimicry, the way he showed his teeth, and the nervous, hacking +step with which he moved through groups of gossiping people.</p> + +<p>He had anticipated with rare pleasure the sight of the sea. He +was prepared to behold the monstrous, titanic, seething, and surging +element, the tempest of the Apocalypse. He was disappointed by +the peaceful rise and fall of the tide, the harmless rolling back +and forth of the waves. He concluded that it were better for one +not to become acquainted with things that had inspired one’s fancy +with reverential awe.</p> + +<p>He could quarrel with nature just as he could quarrel with men. +The phases of nature which he regarded as her imperfections excited +his anger. He was fond, however, of a certain spot in the +forest; or he liked a tree in the plain, or sunset along the canal.</p> + +<p>He liked best of all the narrow streets of the cities, when the +gentle murmurings of song wafted forth from the open windows, +or when the light from the lamp shone forth from the windows +after they had been closed. He loved to pass by courts and cellars, +gates and fences; when the face of an old man, or that of a young +girl, came suddenly to view, when workmen went home from the +factories, or soldiers from the barracks, or seamen from the harbours, +he saw a story in each of them; he felt as one feels on reading +an exciting book.</p> + +<p>One day when he was in Cleve he walked the streets at night +all alone. He noticed a man and a woman and five children, all +poorly dressed, standing near a church. Lying before them on the +pavement were several bundles containing their earthly possessions. +A man came up after a while and addressed them in a stern, +domineering tone; they picked up their bundles and followed him: +it was a mournful procession. They were emigrants; the man had +told them about their ship.</p> + +<p>Daniel felt as if a cord in his soul had been made taut and +were vibrating without making a sound. The steps of the eight +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span>people, as they died away in the distance, developed gradually into +a rhythmical, musical movement. What had been confused became +ordered; what had been dark shone forth in light. Weighed down +with heaviness of soul, he went on, his eyes fixed on the ground +as if he were looking for something. He no longer saw, nor +could he hear. Nor did he know what time it was.</p> + +<p>After a year and a half of congealed torpidity, the March wind +once more began to blow in his soul.</p> + +<p>But it was like a disease; he was being consumed with impatience. +His immediate goal was the cloister of Œsede at Osnabrück, and +from there he wanted to go to Berlin. He could not bear to sit +in the railway carriages: in Wesel he placed his trunk on a freight +train, and went from there on foot, his top-coat hung over his +arm, his knapsack strapped across his back. Despite the inclement +weather he walked from eight to ten hours every day. It was +towards the end of October, the mornings and evenings were +chilly, the roads were muddy, the inns were wretched. This did +not deter him from going on: he walked and walked, sought and +sought, often until late at night, passionately absorbed in himself.</p> + +<p>When he came to the coal and iron district, he raised his head +more and more frequently. The houses were black, the earth and +the air were black, blackened men met him on the road. Copper +wires hummed in the fog and mist, hammers clinked, wheels +hummed, chimneys smoked, whistles blew—it was like a dream +vision, like the landscape of an unknown and accursed star.</p> + +<p>One evening he left a little inn which he had entered to get +something to eat and drink. It was eight miles to Dortmund, where +he planned to stay over night. He had left the main road, when +all of a sudden the fire from the blast-furnaces leaped up, giving +the mist the appearance of a blood-red sea. Miners were coming +in to the village; in the light of the furnaces their tired, blackened +faces looked like so many demoniac caricatures. Far or near, it +was impossible to say, a horse could be seen drawing a car over +shining rails. On it stood a man flourishing his whip. Beast, man, +and car all seemed to be of colossal size; the “gee” and “haw” +of the driver sounded like the mad cries of a spectre; the iron +sounds from the forges resembled the bellowing of tormented +creatures.</p> + +<p>Daniel had found what he had been looking for: he had found +the mournful melody that had driven him away the day Eleanore +died. He had, to be sure, put it on the paper then and there, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>but it had remained without consequence: it had been buried in +the grave with Eleanore.</p> + +<p>Now it had arisen, and its soul—its consequence—had arisen +with it; it was expanded into a wonderful arch, arranged and +limbed like a body, and filled as the world is full.</p> + +<p>Music had been born to him again from the machine, from +the world of machinery.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Jason Philip Schimmelweis had been obliged to give up his +house by the museum bridge. He could not pay the rent; his +business was ruined. By a mere coincident it came about that the +house on the Corn Market had a cheap apartment that was vacant, +and he took it. It was the same house in which he lived when he +made so much money twenty years ago.</p> + +<p>Was Jason Philip no longer in touch with modern business +methods? Had he become too old and infirm to make the public +hungry for literary nourishment? Were his advertisements without +allurement, his baits without scent? No one felt inclined to +buy expensive lexicons and editions de luxe on the instalment plan. +The rich old fellows with a nose for dubious reading matter never +came around any more. Jason Philip had become a dilatory +debtor; the publishers no longer gave him books on approval; he +was placed on the black list.</p> + +<p>He took to abusing modern writers, contending that it was no +wonder that the writing of books was left exclusively to good-for-nothing +subjects of the Empire, for the whole nation was suffering +from cerebral atrophy.</p> + +<p>But his reasoning was of no avail; his business collapse was imminent; +in a jiffy it was a hard reality. A man by the name of +Rindskopf bought his stock and furnishings at brokers’ prices, and +the firm of Jason Philip Schimmelweis had ceased to exist.</p> + +<p>In his distress Jason Philip appealed to the Liberal party. He +boasted of his friendship with the former leader of the party, +Baron von Auffenberg, but this only made matters worse: one +renegade was depending upon the support of another. This was +natural: birds of a feather flock together.</p> + +<p>Then he went to the Masons, and began to feel around for their +help; he tried to be made a member of one of the better lodges. +He was given to understand that there was some doubt as to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span>loyalty of his convictions, with the result that the Masons would +have none of him.</p> + +<p>For some time he found actual difficulty in earning his daily +bread. He had resigned his position with the Prudentia Insurance +Company long ago. Ever since a certain interpellation in +the Reichstag and a long lawsuit in which the Prudentia became +involved, and which was decided in favour of its opponents, the +standing of the company had suffered irreparably.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip had no other choice: he had to go back to bookbinding; +he had to return to pasting, cutting, and folding. He +returned in the evening of his life, downcast, impoverished, and +embittered, to the position from which he had started as an ambitious, +resourceful, stout-hearted, and self-assured man years ago. +His eloquence had proved of no avail, his cunning had not helped +him, nor his change of political conviction, nor his familiarity +with the favourable turns of the market, nor his speculations. He +had never believed that the order of things in the world about +him was just and righteous, neither as a Socialist nor as a Liberal. +And now he was convinced that it was impossible to write a +motto on the basis of business principles that would be fit material +for a copy book in a kindergarten.</p> + +<p>Willibald was still the same efficient clerk. Markus had got a +job in a furniture store, where he spent his leisure hours studying +Volapük, convinced as he was that all the nations of the earth +would soon be using this great fraternal tongue.</p> + +<p>Theresa moved into the house on the Corn Market with as much +peace and placidity as if she had been anticipating such a change +for years. There was a bay window in the house, and by this she +sat when her work in the kitchen was done, knitting socks for her +sons. At times she would scratch her grey head with her knitting +needle, at times she would reach over and take a sip of cold, +unsugared coffee, a small pot of which she always kept by her side. +Hers was the most depressed face then known to the human family; +hers were the horniest, wrinkliest peasant hands that formed part +of any citizen of the City of Nuremberg.</p> + +<p>She thought without ceasing of all that nice money that had +passed through her hands during the two decades she had stood +behind the counter of the establishment in the Plobenhof Street.</p> + +<p>She tried to imagine where all the money had gone, who was +using it now, and who was being tormented by it. For she was +rid of it, and in the bottom of her heart she was glad that she +no longer had it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span></p><p>One day Jason Philip came rushing from his workshop into her +room. He had a newspaper in his hand; his face was radiant with +joy. “At last, my dear, at last! I have been avenged. Jason +Philip Schimmelweis was after all a good prophet. Well, what +do you say?” he continued, as Theresa looked at him without any +noticeable display of curiosity, “what do you say? I’ll bet you +can’t guess. No, you will never be able to guess what’s happened; +it’s too much for a woman’s brain.” He mounted a chair, held +the paper in his hand as if it were the flag of his country, waved +it, and shouted: “Bismarck is done for! He’s got to go. The +Kaiser hates him! Now let come what may, I have not lived in +vain.”</p> + +<p>Jason Philip had the feeling that it was due to his efforts that +the reins of government had been snatched from the hands of +the Iron Chancellor. His satisfaction found expression in blatancy +and in actions that were thoroughly at odds with a man of his age. +He held up his acquaintances on the street, and demanded that they +offer him their congratulations. He went to his favourite café, +and ordered a barrel of beer for the rejuvenation of his friends. +He delivered an oration, spiced with all the forms of sarcasm +known to the art of cheap politics and embellished with innumerable +popular phrases, explaining why he regarded this as the happiest +day of his eventful life.</p> + +<p>He said: “If fate were to do me the favour of allowing me to +stand face to face with this menace to public institutions, this +unscrupulous tyrant, I would not, believe me, mince matters in the +slightest: I would tell him things no mortal man has thus far +dared say to him.”</p> + +<p>Several months passed by. Bismarck, then staying at his country +place in Sachsenwald and quarrelling with his lot, decided to visit +Munich. There was tremendous excitement in Nuremberg when it +was learned that he would pass through the city at such and such +an hour.</p> + +<p>Everybody wanted to see him, young and old, aristocrats and +humble folk. Early in the morning the whole city seemed to be +on its feet, making its way in dense crowds out through the +King’s Gate.</p> + +<p>This was a drama in which Jason Philip had to play his part: +without him it would be incomplete. “To look into the eyes of +a tiger whose claws have been chopped off and whose teeth have +been knocked out is a pleasure and a satisfaction that my mother’s +son dare not forego,” said he.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span></p><p>His elbows stood him in good stead. When the train pulled +into the station, our rebel was standing in the front row, having +pushed his way through the seemingly impenetrable mass of +humanity.</p> + +<p>The train stopped for a few minutes. The Iron Chancellor +left his carriage amid deafening hurrahs from the assembled multitude. +He shook hands with the Mayor and a few high-ranking +army officers.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip never budged. It never occurred to him to shout +his own hurrah. An acidulous smile played around his mouth, his +white beard quivered when he dropped the corners of his lips in +satanic glee. It never occurred to him to take off his hat, despite +the threatening protests all too audible round about him. “I am +consistent, my dear Bismarck, I am incorruptible,” he thought to +himself.</p> + +<p>And yet—the satisfaction which we have described as satanic +seemed somehow or other to be ill founded: it was in such marked +contrast to the general enthusiasm. What had possessed this imbecile +pack? Why was it raging? It saw the enemy, the hangman, +right there before it, immune to the law, dressed in civilian +clothes, and yet it was acting as though the Messiah had come to +town on an extra train!</p> + +<p>Jason Philip had the feeling that Bismarck was looking straight +at him. He fancied that the fearfully tall man with the unusually +small head and the enormously blue eyes had taken offence at +his silence. He feared some one had told him all about his political +beliefs.</p> + +<p>The scornful smile died away. Jason Philip detected a lukewarm +impotency creeping over his body. The sweat of solicitude +trickled down across his forehead. Involuntarily he kneed his way +closer to the edge of the platform, threw out his chest, jerked his +hat from his head, opened his mouth, and cried: “Hurrah!”</p> + +<p>He cried hurrah. The Prince turned his face from him, and +looked in another direction.</p> + +<p>But Jason Philip had cried hurrah.</p> + +<p>He sneaked home shaking with shame. He drew his slippers, +“For the tired Man—Consolation,” on his feet. They had become +quite worn in the course of his tempestuous life. He lay down on +the sofa with his face to the wall, his back to the window and +against the world.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span></p><h3>V</h3> + +<p>Daniel had been in Berlin for weeks. He had been living a +lonely life on the east side of the gigantic city. One of the +managers of Philander and Sons came to see him. He returned +the call, and in the course of two hours he was surrounded, contrary +to his own will, by a veritable swarm of composers, directors, +virtuosos, and musical critics.</p> + +<p>Some had heard of him; to them he appeared to be a remarkable +man. They threw out their nets to catch him, but he slipped +through the meshes. Unprepared, however, as he was for their +schemes, he could not help being caught in time. He had to give +an account of himself, to unveil himself. He found himself under +obligations, interested, and so forth, but in the end they could +not prevail against him: he simply passed through them.</p> + +<p>They laughed at his dialect and his rudeness. What drew them +to him was his self-respect; what annoyed them was his secretiveness; +what they found odd about him was the fact that, try as +they might to associate with him, he would disappear entirely +from them for months at a time.</p> + +<p>A divorced young woman, a Jewess by the name of Regina +Sussmann, fell in love with him. She recognised in Daniel an +elemental nature. The more he avoided her the more persistent +she became. At times it made him feel good to come once again +into intimate association with a woman, to hear her bright voice, +her step more delicate, her breathing more ardent than that of men. +But he could not trust Regina Sussmann; she seemed to know too +much. There was nothing of the plant-like about her, and without +that characteristic any woman appealed to him as being unformed +and uncultured.</p> + +<p>One winter day she came to see him in his barren hall room in +Greifswald Street. She sat down at the piano and began to +improvise. At first it was all like a haze to him. Suddenly he +was struck by her playing. What he heard made a half disagreeable, +half painful impression on him. He seemed to be familiar +with the piece. She was playing motifs from his quartette, his +“Eleanore Quartette” as he had called it. It came out that +Regina Sussmann had been present at the concert given in Leipzig +three years ago when the quartette was performed.</p> + +<p>After a painful pause Regina began to ask some questions that +cut him to the very heart. She wanted to know what relation, +if any, the composition bore to actual life. She was trying to lift +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span>the veil from his unknown fate. He thrust her from him. Then +he felt sorry for her: he began to speak, with some hesitation, of +his symphony. There was something bewitching, enchanting in +the woman’s passionate silence and sympathy. He lost himself, +forgot himself, disclosed his heart. He built up the work in words +before her, pictured the seven movements like seven stairs in the +tower of a temple, a glorious promenade in the upper spheres, a +tragic storm with tragically cheerful pauses of memory and meditation, +all accompanied by laughing genii that adorned and crowned +the pillars of the structure of his dreams.</p> + +<p>He went to the piano, began playing the melancholy leading +motif and the two subsidiary themes, counterpointed them, ran +into lofty crescendos, introduced variations, modulated and sang at +the same time. The pupils of his eyes became distended until +they shone behind his glasses like seas of green fire. Regina +Sussmann fell on her knees by the piano. It may be that she was +so affected by his playing that she could not act otherwise; and +it may be that she wished thereby to give him visible proof of her +respect and adoration. All of a sudden the woman became repulsive +to him. The unleashed longing of her eyes filled him with +disgust. Her kneeling position appealed to him as a gesture of +mockery and ridicule: a memory had been desecrated. He sprang +to his feet and rushed out of the room, leaving her behind and +quite alone. He never said a word; he merely bit his lips in +anger and left. When he came back home late that night, he +was afraid he might meet her again; but she was not there. Only +a letter lay on the table by the lamp.</p> + +<p>She wrote that she had understood him; that she understood he +had been living in the past as if in an impregnable fortress, surrounded +by shadows that were not to be dispelled or disturbed +by the presumption of any living human being. She remarked +that she had neither intention nor desire to encroach upon his +peace of mind, that she was merely concerned for his future, and +was wondering how he would fight down his hunger of body +and soul.</p> + +<p>“Shameless wretch,” cried Daniel, “a spy and a woman!”</p> + +<p>She remarked, with almost perverse humility, that she had recognised +his greatness, that he was the genius she had been waiting for, +and that her one desire was to serve him. That is, she wished +to serve him at a distance, seeing that he could not endure her +presence. She implored him to grant her this poor privilege, not +merely for his own sake, but for the sake of humanity as well.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span></p><p>Daniel threw the letter in the stove. In the night he woke +up with a burning desire for delicate contact with an untouched +woman. He dreamed of a smile on the face of a seventeen-year-old +girl innocently playing around him—and shuddered at himself +and the thought of himself.</p> + +<p>Shortly after this he went to Dresden, where he had some +work to do in the Royal library.</p> + +<p>People came to him anxious to place themselves at his service. +Many signs told him that Regina Sussmann was making fervent +propaganda for him.</p> + +<p>One day he received a letter from a musical society in Magdeburg, +asking him to give a concert there. He hesitated for a long +while, and then agreed to accede to their wish. Outwardly it +could not be called an unusually successful evening, but his auditors +felt his power. People with the thinnest smattering of music +forgot themselves and became infatuated with his arms and his +eyes. An uncertain, undetermined happiness which he brought to +the hearts of real musicians carried him further along on his +career. For two successive winters he directed concerts in the +provincial towns of North Germany. He was the first to accustom +the people to strictly classical programmes. It is rare that the +first in any enterprise of this kind reaps the gratitude of those +who pay to hear him. Had he not desisted with such Puritanical +severity from feeding the people on popular songs, opera selections, +and favourite melodies, his activity would have been much better +rewarded. As it was, his name was mentioned with respect, but he +passed through the streets unacclaimed.</p> + +<p>Regina Sussmann was always on hand when he gave a concert. +He knew it, even if he did not see her. At times he caught sight +of her sitting in the front row. She never approached him. +Articles redolent with adulation appeared in the papers about him: +it was manifest that she had been influential in having them +written. Once he met her on the steps of a hotel. She stopped +and cast her eyes to the ground; she was pale. He passed by her. +Again he was filled with longing to come into intimate contact +with an untouched woman. Was his heart already hungry, as she +had predicted? He bit his lips, and worked throughout the whole +night. He felt that he was being fearfully endangered by the +prosy insipidity of the age and the world he was living in. But +could he not escape the terrors of such without having recourse to +a woman? The shadows receded, enveloped in sorrow, Gertrude +and Eleanore, wrapped in the embrace of sisters.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t!” they cried. He saw at once that his provincial concerts +were leading him to false goals, enflaming false ambitions, +robbing him of his strength. He no longer found it possible to +endure the sight of brilliantly lighted halls, and the over-dressed +people who came empty and left untransformed. It all seemed +to him like a lie. He desisted; he threw it all overboard just +as the temptation was strongest, just as the Berlin Philharmonic +invited him to give a concert of his own works in its hall.</p> + +<p>He had suddenly disappeared. In less than three months his +name had become a saga.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>He spent the summer, autumn, and winter of 1893 wandering +around. Now he was in a remote Thuringian village, now in some +town in the Rhön region, now in the mountains of Saxony, now +in a fishing village on the Baltic. Throughout the day he worked +on his manuscripts, in the evening he composed. No one except +the members of the firm of Philander and Sons knew where he +was. He did not dare hide himself from the people who were +sending him the cheque at the end of the month.</p> + +<p>He gradually became so unaccustomed to talking that it was +only with difficulty that he could ask a hotel-keeper about the price +of his room. This unrelieved silence chiselled his lips into +ghastly sharpness.</p> + +<p>He never heard from his mother or his children. He seemed +to have forgotten that there were human beings living who thought +of him with affection and anxiety.</p> + +<p>The only messages he received from the world were letters that +were forwarded to him at intervals of from four to five weeks +by the musical firm in Mayence. These letters were written by +Regina Sussmann, though they were not signed in her name: the +signature at the close of each one was “The Swallow.” She +addressed Daniel by the familiar <i>Du</i>, and not by the more conventional +and polite <i>Sie</i>.</p> + +<p>She told him of her life, wrote of the books she had read, the +people she had met, and gave him her views on music. Her +communications became in time indispensable to him; he was +touched by her fidelity; he was pleased that she did not use her +own name. She had a remarkable finesse and power of expression, +and however ungenuine and artificial she may have appealed to +him in personal association, everything she wrote seemed to him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span>to be natural and convincing. She never expressed a wish that +he do something impossible and never uttered a complaint. On +the other hand, there was a passion of the intelligence about her +that was quite new to him; she was unlike the women he had +known. And there was a fervour and certainty in her appreciation +of his being before which he bowed as at the sound of a +higher voice.</p> + +<p>Though he never answered her letters, he looked forward to +receiving them, and became impatient if one were overdue. He +often thought of the swallow when he would step to the window +on a dark night. He thought of her as an all-seeing spirit that +hovered in the air. The swallow—that was fraught with meaning—the +restless, delicate, swift-flying swallow. And in his mind’s +eye he saw the swallow that hovered over Ægydius Place when +Eberhard came to take him up to the room with the withered +flowers.</p> + +<p>He wrote to Philippina: “Decorate my graves. Buy two wreaths, +and lay them on the graves.”</p> + +<p>“You must mount to the clouds, Daniel, otherwise you are +lost,” was one passage in one of the letters from the Swallow. +Another, much longer, ran: “As soon as you feel one loneliness +creeping over you, you must hasten into another, an unknown one. +If your path seems blocked, you must storm the hedges before +you. If an arm surrounds you, you must tear yourself loose, even +though it cost blood and tears. You must leave men behind and +move above them; you dare not become a citizen; you dare not +allow yourself to be taken up with things that are dear to you; +you must have no companion, neither man nor maid. Time must +hover over you cold and quiet. Let your heart be encased in +bronze, for music is a flame that breaks through and consumes all +there is in the man who created it, except the stuff the gods have +forged about their chosen son.”</p> + +<p>Why should the picture of this red-haired Jewess, from whom +Daniel had fled in terror, not have vanished? There was a Muse +such as poets dream of! “Jewess, wonderful Jewess,” thought +Daniel, and this word—Jewess—took on for him a meaning, a +power, and a prophetic flight all its own.</p> + +<p>“The work, Daniel Nothafft, the work,” wrote this second Rahel +in another letter, “the rape of Prometheus, when are you going to +lay it at the feet of impoverished humanity? The age is like +wine that tastes of the earth; your work must be the filter. The +age is like an epileptic body convulsed with agonies; your work +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span>must be the healing hand that one lays on the diseased brow. +When will you finally give, O parsimonious mortal? when ripen, +tree? when flood the valley, stream?”</p> + +<p>But the tree was in no hurry to cast off the ripened fruit; the +stream found that the way to the sea was long and tortuous; it +had to break through mountains and wash away the rocks. Oh, +those nights of torment when an existing form crashed and fell +to the earth in pieces! Oh, those hundreds of laborious nights in +which there was no sleep, nothing but the excited raging of many +voices! Those grey mornings on which the sun shone on tattered +leaves and a distorted face, a face full of suffering that was always +old and yet new! And those moonlight nights, when some one +moved along singing, not as one sings with joy, but as the heretics +who sat on the martyr benches of the Inquisition! Then there +were the rainy nights, the stormy nights, the nights when it +snowed, and when he chased after the phantom of a melody that +was already half his own, and half an incorporeal thing wandering +around in boundless space under the stars.</p> + +<p>Each landscape became a pale vision: bush and grass and flower, +like spun yarn seen in a fever, the people who passed by, and +the clouds fibrillated above the forests were of one and the same +constituency. Nothing was tangible; the palate lost its sense of +taste, the finger its sense of touch. Bad weather was welcome; it +subdued the noises, made men quieter. Cursed be the mill that +clappers, the carpenter who drives the nails, the teamster who calls +to his jaded pair, the laughter of children, the croaking of frogs, +the twittering of birds! An insensate man looks down upon the +scene, one who is deaf and dumb, one who would snatch all clothing +and decorations from the world, to the end that neither colour +nor splendour of any description may divert his eye, one who +mounts to heaven at night to steal the eternal fire, and who burrows +in the graves of the dead by day—an outcast.</p> + +<p>In the beginning of spring, he started on the third movement, +an andante with variations. It expressed the gruesome peace that +hovered over Eleanore’s slumbering face one night before her +death. The springs within him were all suddenly dried up; he +could not tell why his hand was paralysed, his fancy immobile.</p> + +<p>One evening he returned from a long journey to Arnstein, a +little place in Lower Franconia, where he had then pitched his +tent. He was living in the house of a seamstress, a poor widow, +and as he came into the room he noticed her ten-year-old daughter +standing by the open box in which he had kept the mask of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>Zingarella. Out of a perfectly harmless curiosity the child had +removed the lid, and was standing bewitched at the unexpected +sight.</p> + +<p>When Daniel’s eyes fell on her, she was frightened; her body +shook with fear; she tried to run away. “No, no, stay!” cried +Daniel. He felt the emaciated body, the timidly quivering figure, +and a distant memory sunk its claws deep into his breast. The +mouth of the mask seemed to speak; the cheeks and forehead shone +with a brilliant whiteness. And as he turned his eyes away there +was a little elf dancing over him; and this little elf aroused a +guilty unrest in his heart.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Philippina would not permit little Agnes to play with other +children.</p> + +<p>One day the child went out on to the square, and stood and +watched some other children playing a game known as “Tailor, +lend me the scissors.” She was much pleased at the sight of them, +as they ran from tree to tree and laughed. She would have been +only too happy to join them, but no one thought of asking the +pale, shy little creature to take part. Philippina, seeing her, rushed +out like a fury, and cried in her very meanest voice: “You come +back here in the house, or I’ll maul you until your teeth will +rattle in your mouth for three days to come!”</p> + +<p>Philippina also disliked to have Jordan pay any attention to +Agnes. If he did not notice that he was making her angry by +talking with the child, she would begin to sing, first gently, and +then more and more loudly. If this did not drive the old man +away, she would unload some terrific abuse on him, and keep at +it until he would get up, sigh, and leave. He did not dare +antagonise her, for if he did, she would penalise him by giving +him poor food and reduced portions. And he suffered greatly +from hunger. He was making only a few pennies a week, and had +to save every bit of it, if possible, so as to defray the expenses +he was incurring while working on his invention.</p> + +<p>He had unbounded faith in his invention; his credulity became +stronger and stronger as the months rolled by. He could not be +discouraged by seeming failure. He was convinced, on the contrary, +that each failure merely brought him so much nearer the +desired goal.</p> + +<p>He said to Philippina: “Why is it that you object to my playing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>once in a while with my little grand-daughter? It gives me so +much pleasure; it diverts me; it takes my mind off of my troubles.”</p> + +<p>“Crazy nonsense,” replied Philippina. “Agnes has had trouble +enough with her father. Her grandfather? whew! That beats me!”</p> + +<p>Another time the old man said: “Suppose we make an agreement: +let me have the child a half-hour each day, and in return +for that I’ll run your errands down town.”</p> + +<p>Philippina: “I’ll run my own errands. Agnes belongs to me. +That settles it.”</p> + +<p>And yet Philippina was in an especially good humour about +this time. Benjamin Dorn, like Herr Zittel, had left the Prudentia, +and obtained a position with the Excelsior. He was taking +unusual interest in Philippina. In a dark hour, Philippina had +told her friend, Frau Hadebusch, that she had saved a good deal +of money, and, equipped with this bit of earthly wisdom, Frau +Hadebusch had gone to the Methodist, told him all about it, and +put very serious matrimonial ideas in his head.</p> + +<p>Benjamin Dorn took infinite pains to gain Philippina’s good +graces. He was, to be sure, somewhat dismayed at having her +blasphemous system of theology dinned into his ears. He shook +his head wearily when she called him a sky-pilot and declared +right out that all this sanctimonious stuff was damned rot, and that +the main thing was to have a fat wallet. In this philosophy Frau +Hadebusch was with her to the last exclamation point. She had +told Benjamin Dorn that a doughtier, bonnier, more capable +person than Fräulein Schimmelweis was not to be found on this +earth, and that the two were as much made for each other as oil +and vinegar for a salad. She said: “You simply ought to see the +dresses the girl has and how she can fix herself up when she wants +to go out. Moreover, she comes of a good family. In short, +any man who could get her would be a subject for real congratulations.”</p> + +<p>To Philippina Frau Hadebusch said: “Dorn—he can write as +no one else on this earth. Oh, you ought to see him swing a pen! +He limps a little, but what of it? Just think how many people +go around on two sound legs, but have their heads all full of +rubbish! But Dorn! He’s whole cloth and a yard wide! He’s +as soft as prune juice. Why, when a dog barks at him, he gives +the beast a lump of sugar. That’s the kind of a man he is.”</p> + +<p>In October Benjamin Dorn and Philippina went to the church +fair, and naturally took Agnes along. Benjamin Dorn knew what +was expected of him. He had Philippina take two rides on the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>merry-go-round, paid her way into the cabinet of wax figures, and +took a chance on the lottery. It was a blank. He then explained +to Philippina that it was immoral to have anything to do with +lotteries, and bought her a bag of ginger snaps; and that was solid +pleasure.</p> + +<p>Philippina acted very nicely. She laughed when nothing amusing +had taken place, rolled her eyes, spoke with puckered lips, +shook her hips when she walked, and never lost a chance to show +her learning. As they were coming home on the train, she said +she felt she would like to ride in a chaise, but there would have +to be two horses and a coachman with a tile hat. Benjamin Dorn +replied that that was not an impossible wish, suggesting at the same +time in his best brand of juvenile roguishness that there was a +certain solemn ceremony that he would not think of celebrating +without having a vehicle such as she had described. Philippina +giggled, and said: “Oi, oi, you’re all right.” Whereupon Benjamin +Dorn, grinning with embarrassment, looked down.</p> + +<p>Then they took leave of each other, for Agnes had fallen asleep +in Philippina’s arms.</p> + +<p>How Philippina actually felt about the attention he was showing +her would be extremely difficult to tell, though she acted as +if she felt honoured and flattered. Benjamin Dorn was by no +means certain of himself. Frau Hadebusch did all she could to +bring Philippina around, but every time she made a fresh onslaught +Philippina put her off.</p> + +<p>But Philippina had never sung as she had been singing recently, +nor had she ever been so light and nimble of foot. Every day +she put on her Sunday dress and trimmed it with her choicest +ribbons. She washed her hands with almond soap, and combed +her hair before the mirror. Bangs had gone out of fashion, so +she built her hair up into a tower and looked like a Chinese.</p> + +<p>She visited Herr Carovius occasionally, and always found him +alone, for Dorothea Döderlein had been sent by her father to +Munich to perfect herself in her art. In broken words, with +blinking eyes, from a grinning mouth and out of a dumb soul, she +told Herr Carovius all about her affair with Benjamin Dorn, evidently +believing that he was all fire and flame to know how she +was getting along and what she had <i>in petto</i>. Herr Carovius had +long since grown sick and tired of her, though he did not show +her the door. He had reached the point where he heaved a sigh +of relief when he heard a human voice, where he began to dread +the stillness that ruled supreme within his four walls. No one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span>came to see him, no one spoke to him, and he in turn no longer +had the courage to speak to any one. His arrogance of former +days had died a difficult death, and now he saw no way of making +friends. If he went to the café, there was no one there whom +he knew. The brethren of the Vale of Tears had been scattered +to the four corners of the earth; a new generation was having its +fling; new customs were being introduced, new topics discussed, +and he was old.</p> + +<p>He found it hard to get along without Dorothea. He counted +the days, waiting for her to return. He never opened the piano, +because all music, and especially the music he loved, caused a +melancholy depression to arise that filled the room with miasma.</p> + +<p>The Nero of our day was suffering from Cæsar sadness. The +private citizen had sunk to the very bottom of the ditch which +he himself had dug with the idea of burying all that was new +and joyful, and all winged creatures in it.</p> + +<p>The worst of it all was that he had nothing to do, and no +brain racking could devise a position he could fill. The world +went on its way, progress was made, and, strangely enough, it was +made without his criticism, his adulation, his opinions, or his crepe-hanging.</p> + +<p>Philippina was annoyed at the grudging squints cast at her by +the old stay-at-home; her visits became rarer and rarer. She did +not feel like opening her heart to Frau Hadebusch, for she did +not appeal to her as a disinterested party. This completed her list +of friends; she was obliged to restrain her impatience and excitement.</p> + +<p>It was Christmas. On Christmas Eve they had bought a tree +for Agnes, trimmed it, and lighted it with candles. Agnes’s +Christmas gifts were placed under the tree: a big piece of ginger-bread, +a basket with apples and nuts, and a cheap doll. For Old +Jordan she had bought a pair of boots which he badly needed. He +had been going around on his uppers since autumn.</p> + +<p>Jordan was sitting by the door holding his boots on his knees. +Agnes looked at the doll with unhappy eyes; she did not dare +touch it. After gazing for a while into the light of the fluttering +candles, Jordan said: “I thank you, Philippina, I thank you. You +are a real benefactress. I also thank you for remembering the +child. It is a paltry makeshift you have bought there at the +bazaar, but any one who gives gifts to children deserves the reward +of Heaven, and in such giving we do not weigh the value or count +the cost.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t whine all the time so!” shrieked Philippina. She was +chewing her finger nails, hardly able to conceal her embarrassment. +Frau Hadebusch had told her that Benjamin Dorn was coming +around that evening to make a formal proposal of marriage.</p> + +<p>“Just wait, Agnes, just wait!” continued old Jordan, “you’ll +soon get to see a wonder of a doll. A few short years, and the +world will be astonished. You are going to be the first to see it +when it is finished. You’ll be the first, little Agnes, just wait. +What have we got to eat on this holy evening?” asked Jordan, +turning with fear and trembling to Philippina.</p> + +<p>“Cold hash and broiled meal-beetles,” said Philippina scornfully.</p> + +<p>“And ... and ... no letter from Daniel?” he asked in a +sad voice, “nothing, nothing at all?”</p> + +<p>Philippina shrugged her shoulders. The old man got up and +tottered to his room.</p> + +<p>A little later Philippina heard some one stumbling around in +the hall, and then the bell rang. “Open the door,” she said to +Agnes, who did as she was told and returned with Benjamin Dorn. +The Methodist wore a black suit, and in his hand he had a black +felt hat that was as flat as a pancake. He bowed to Philippina, +and asked if he was disturbing any one. Philippina pushed a chair +over to him. He sat down quite circumstantially, and laughed a +hollow laugh. As Philippina was as silent as the tomb and looked +at him so tensely, he began to speak.</p> + +<p>First he expatiated on the general advantages of a married life, +and then remarked that what he personally wished first of all was +to be able to take a good, true woman into his own life as his +wife. He said that he had gone through a long struggle over the +matter, but God had finally shown him the light and pointed the +way. He no longer hesitated, after this illumination from above, +to offer Fräulein Schimmelweis his heart and his hand forever +and a day, insist though he must that she give the matter due +consideration, in the proper Christian spirit, before taking the +all-important step.</p> + +<p>Philippina was restless; she rocked back and forth, first on one +foot and then on another—and then burst out laughing. She +bent over and laughed violently. “No, you poor simpleton, what +you want is my money, hey? Be honest! Out with it! You +want my money, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>Her anger grew as Benjamin Dorn sat and looked on, his asinine +embarrassment increasing with each second of silence. “Listen! +You’d like to git your fingers on it, wouldn’t you? Money—it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>would taste good, wouldn’t it? You think I’m crazy? Scrape a +few coppers together and lose my mind and marry some poor fool, +and let him loaf around and live on me. Nothing doin’! They +ain’t no man livin’ what can catch Philippina Schimmelweis so +easy as all that. She knows a thing or two about men, she does. +D’ye hear me! Get out!” She sawed the air with her arms like +a mad woman, and showed him the door.</p> + +<p>Benjamin Dorn rose to his feet, stuttered something unintelligible, +moved backwards toward the door, reached it, and left the +place with such pronounced speed that Philippina once again broke +out in a shrill, piercing laughter. “Come here, Agnes,” she said, +sat down on the step in the corner, and took the child on her lap.</p> + +<p>She was silent for a long while; the child was afraid to speak. +Both looked at the lights on the Christmas tree. “Let us sing +something,” said Philippina. She began with a hoarse, bass voice, +“Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,” and Agnes joined in with her high, +spiritless notes.</p> + +<p>Another pause followed after they had finished singing.</p> + +<p>“Where is my father?” asked Agnes suddenly, without looking +at Philippina. It sounded as if she had waited for years for an +opportunity to ask this question.</p> + +<p>Philippina’s face turned ashen pale; she gritted her teeth. +“Your father, he’s loafing around somewhere in the country,” +replied Philippina, and blew out one of the candles that had +burned down and was ready to set the twig on fire. “He’s done +with women, it seems, but you can’t tell. He strums the music +box and smears good white paper full of crow-feet and pot-hooks. +A person can rot, and little does he worry.” Whereat she set the +child on the floor, hastened over to the window, opened it, and +put her head out as if she were on the point of choking with +the heat.</p> + +<p>She leaned out over the snow-covered window sill.</p> + +<p>“I’m getting cold,” said Agnes; but Philippina never heard her.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Daniel wrote to Eberhard and Sylvia asking them if he might +visit them. He thought: “There are friends; perhaps I need +friends again.”</p> + +<p>He received a note in a strange, secretarial hand informing him +that the Baroness was indeed very sorry but she could not receive +him at Siegmundshof: she was in child-bed. She sent her best +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>greetings, and told him that the newest born was getting along +splendidly, as well as his brother who was now three years old.</p> + +<p>“Everywhere I turn, children are growing up,” thought Daniel, +and packed his trunk and started south as slowly as he could go, +so slowly indeed that it seemed as if he were approaching a goal +he was afraid to reach and yet had to.</p> + +<p>He arrived in Nuremberg one evening in April. As he entered +the room, Philippina struck her hands together with a loud bang, +and stood as if rooted to the floor.</p> + +<p>Agnes looked at her father shyly. She had grown slim and +tall far beyond her age.</p> + +<p>Old Jordan came down. “You don’t look well, Daniel,” he said, +and seemed never to let go of his hand. “Let us hope that you +are going to stay home now.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Daniel, staring absent-mindedly around +the walls. “I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>On the third day he was seized with a quite unusual sense of +fear and anxiety. He felt that he had made a mistake; that he +had lost his way; that something was driving him to another place. +He went into the kitchen. Philippina was cooking potato noodles +in lard; they smelt good.</p> + +<p>“I am going to Eschenbach,” he said, to his own astonishment, +for the decision to do so had come with the assertion.</p> + +<p>Philippina jerked the pan from the stove; the flames leaped up. +“You can go to Hell, so far as I’m concerned,” she said in a furious +rage. With the light from the fire flaring up through the open +top of the stove and reflected in her face, she looked like a veritable +witch.</p> + +<p>Daniel gazed at her questioningly. “What is the matter with +Agnes?” he asked after a while. “The child seems to try to +avoid me.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll find out what’s the matter with her,” said Philippina +spitefully, and placed the pan on the stove again. “She don’t +swallow people whole.”</p> + +<p>Daniel left the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“He is going over to see his bastard, the damned scoundrel,” +murmured Philippina. She crouched down on the kitchen stool, +and gazed into space.</p> + +<p>The potato noodles burned up.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span></p><h3>IX</h3> + +<p>Daniel entered his mother’s little house in Eschenbach late at +night. As soon as he saw her, he knew that some misfortune had +taken place.</p> + +<p>Eva was gone. She had disappeared one evening four weeks +ago. A troupe of rope dancers had given an exhibition in the +city, and it was generally suspected that they had abducted the +child. The people of Eschenbach were still convinced of their +suspicion after the police had rounded up the dancers without +finding a trace of the child.</p> + +<p>A general alarm had been sent out, and investigations were being +made even at the time of Daniel’s arrival. But they were in vain; +it was impossible to find the slightest clue. To the authorities, +indeed to every one, the case was a hopeless riddle.</p> + +<p>They made a thorough search of the forests; the canals were +drained; vagabonds were cross-questioned. It was all in vain; Eva +had apparently been spirited away in some mysterious fashion. +Then the Mayor received an anonymous letter that read as follows: +“The child you are looking for is in safe keeping. She was not +forced to do what she has done; of her own free will and out of +love for her art she went off with the people with whom she is +at present. She sends her grandmother the tenderest of greetings, +and hopes to see her some time again, after she has attained to +what she now has in mind.”</p> + +<p>To this Eva had added in a handwriting which Marian Nothafft +could be reasonably certain was her own: “This is true. Good-bye, +grandmother!”</p> + +<p>The people who mourned with Marian the loss of the child +were convinced that if Eva had really written these words herself, +she had been forced to do it by the kidnappers.</p> + +<p>The letter bore the postmark of a city in the Rhenish Palatinate. +A telegram brought the reply that a company of jugglers had +been there a short while ago, but that they had already gone. It +was impossible to say in what direction, but it was most likely +that they had gone to France.</p> + +<p>Marian was completely broken up. She no longer had any +interest in life. She did not even manifest joy or pleasure at +seeing Daniel.</p> + +<p>Daniel in turn felt that the brightest star had fallen from his +heaven. As soon as he had really grasped the full meaning of the +tragedy, he went quietly into the attic room, threw himself across +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span>the bed of his lost daughter, and wept. “Man, man, are you +weeping at last?” a voice seemed to call out to him.</p> + +<p>Of evenings he would sit with his mother, and they would both +brood over the loss. Once Marian began to speak; she talked +of Eva. She had always been made uneasy by the child’s love for +mimicry and shows of any kind. Long ago, she said, when Eva was +only eight years old, a company of comedians had come to the +village, and Eva had taken a passionate interest in them. She +would run around the tent in which they played, from early in +the morning until late in the evening. She had made the acquaintance +of some of them at the time, and one of them took her along +to a performance. Whenever the circus came to town, it was impossible +to keep her in the house. “At times I thought to myself, +there must be gipsy blood in her veins,” said Marian sadly, “but +she was such a good and obedient child.”</p> + +<p>Another time she told the following story. One Sunday in +spring she took a walk with Eva. It had grown late, night had +come on, and on the return journey they had to go through the +forest. Marian became tired, and sat down on the stump of a +tree to rest. The moon was shining, and there was a clearing in +the forest where they had stopped. All of a sudden Eva sprang up +and began to dance. “It was marvellous the way she danced,” said +Marian, at the close of her story. “The girl’s slender, delicate +little figure seemed to glide around on the moss in the moonlight +of its own accord. It was marvellous, but my heart grew heavy, +and I thought to myself at the time, she is not going to be with me +much longer.”</p> + +<p>Daniel was silent. “Oh, enchanting and enchanted creature!” +he thought, “heredity and destiny!”</p> + +<p>He remained with his mother for three weeks. Then he began +to feel cramped and uneasy. The house and the town both seemed +so small to him. He left and went to Vienna, where the custodian +of the Imperial Institute had some invaluable manuscripts for +him.</p> + +<p>Six weeks later he received a letter that had followed him all +over south Europe informing him of the death of his mother. +The school teacher at Eschenbach had written the letter, saying, +among other things, that the aged woman had died during the +night, suddenly and peacefully.</p> + +<p>A second letter followed, requesting him to state what disposition +should be made of his mother’s property. He was asked +whether the house was to be put on the market. A neighbour, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span>green-grocer, had expressed his willingness to look after Daniel’s +interests.</p> + +<p>Daniel wrote in reply that they should do whatever seemed best. +There was a heavy mortgage on the house, and the amount that +could reasonably be asked for it was not large.</p> + +<p>He retired to a desolate and waste place.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>While living in little towns and villages on the Danube, Daniel +completed the third movement of the Promethean symphony. +When he awoke as if from a delirious fever, it was autumn.</p> + +<p>One morning in October he heard a saint playing the organ. It +was in the Church of St. Florian near Enns. The great artist +had lived in former years in the monastery, and now had the habit +of coming back once in a while to hold communion with his God. +In his rapture, Daniel felt as if his own crowned brother were at +the organ. He sat in a corner and listened, meekly and with overwhelming +delight. Then when a man passed by him, a stooped, +haggard, odd-looking old fellow with a wrinkled face and dressed +in shabby clothes, he was terror-stricken at the reality, the corporeality +of genius: he wondered whether he himself were not a +ghost.</p> + +<p>The Swallow wrote: “There is only one who can redeem us: +the musician. The day of founders of religion, builders of states, +military heroes, and discoverers is gone. The poets have only +words, and our ears have grown tired of words, words, words. They +have only pictures and figures, and our eyes are tired beholding. +The soul’s last consolation is to be found in music; of this I am +certain. If there is any one thing that can make restitution for +the lost illusions of religious faith, provide us with wings, transform +us, and save us from the abyss to which we are rushing with +savage senses, it is music. Where are you, O redeemer? You are +wandering about over the earth, the poorest, the most abandoned, +the guiltiest of men. When are you going to pay your debts, +Daniel Nothafft?”</p> + +<p>Daniel spent seven months in Ravenna, Ferrara, Florence, and +Pisa. He was looking for some manuscripts by Frescobaldi, +Borghesi, and Ercole Pasquini. Having found the most important +ones he could regard his collection as complete.</p> + +<p>Men seemed to him like puppets, landscapes like paintings on +glass. He longed for forests; his dreams became disordered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span></p><p>From Genoa he wandered on foot through Lombardy and across +the Alps. He slept on hard beds in order to keep his hot blood +in check, and lived on bread and cheese. His attacks of weakness, +sometimes of complete exhaustion, did not worry him at first; he +paid no attention to them. But in Augsburg he swooned, falling +headlong on the street. He was taken to a hospital, where he lay +for three months with typhus. From his window he could see +the tall chimneys of factories and an endless procession of wandering +clouds. It had become winter; the ground was covered with +snow.</p> + +<p>Two years after his last visit he again entered the house on +Ægydius Place. When Philippina saw him, so pale and emaciated, +she uttered a cry of horror.</p> + +<p>Agnes had grown still taller, thinner, and more serious. At +times when she looked at her father he felt like crying out to +her in anger: “What do you mean by your everlasting questions?” +But he never said a word of this kind to her.</p> + +<p>When Philippina saw that Daniel had returned as lonesome and +uncommunicative as he was when he went away, she took it upon +herself to display a great deal of gentleness, kindness, sympathy +in his presence. Old Jordan was living the same life he had been +living for years. Everything in fact was just the same; it seemed +that the household was run according to a prescribed routine. It +seemed as if Daniel had been away, not six years, but six days.</p> + +<p>He did not feel strong yet, but he worked day and night. The +fourth movement of the symphony gave promise of being a miracle +of polyphony. Daniel felt primeval existence, the original of all +longing, the basic grief of the world urging and pulsing in him, +and this he was translating into the symphony. The eternal +wanderer had arrived at the gates of Heaven and was not admitted. +Supernal harmonies had borne him aloft. Muffled drum beats +symbolised his beseeching raps on closed doors. Within resounded +the terrible “no” of the trumpets. The pleading of the violins +was in vain; in vain the intercession of the one angel standing at +the right, leaning on a harp without strings; in vain the melodious +chants of the other angel at the left, crowned with flowers and +all together lovely; in vain the elfin chorus of the upper voices, +in vain the foaming lament of the voices below. No path here +for him, and no space!</p> + +<p>One evening Daniel noticed a strange girl at his window. She +was beautiful. Struck by her charms, he got up to go to her. She +had vanished. It was an hallucination. He became afraid of himself, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>left the house, and wandered through the streets as in days +of long ago.</p> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p>It was Carnival Week, and the people had resumed their wonted +gaiety. Masked boys and girls paraded the streets, making merry +wherever they went.</p> + +<p>As Daniel was passing through The Füll he was startled: the +windows in the Benda house were lighted. He suddenly recalled +that Herr Seelenfromm had told him that Frau Benda had returned +from Worms some time ago, and was living with her niece; she +had become totally blind.</p> + +<p>He went up the steps and rang the bell. A grey-haired, distressed-looking +woman came to the door. He thought she must +be the niece. He told her his name; she said she had heard +of him.</p> + +<p>“You probably know that Friedrich has disappeared,” she said +in a sleepy, sing-song voice. “It is eight years since we have heard +from him. The last letter was from the interior of Africa. We +have given up all hope. Not even the newspapers say anything +more about him.”</p> + +<p>“I have read nothing about it,” murmured Daniel. “But +Friedrich cannot be dead,” he continued, shaking his head, “I will +never believe it, never.” Partly in distraction and partly in anxiety, +he riveted his eyes on the woman, who stared at his glasses as if held +by a charm.</p> + +<p>“We have done everything that was humanly possible,” she said. +“We have written to the consulates, we have inquired of the military +outposts and missionary stations, and all to no purpose.” After +a pause she said with a little more vivacity: “You do not wish me +to ask you in, I hope. It is so painful to my aunt to hear a strange +voice, and I cannot think of letting you talk to her. If I did, it +would merely open her old wounds, and she has a hard enough +time of it as it is.”</p> + +<p>Daniel nodded and went on his way. A coarse laugh could be +heard down in the entrance hall; it was painfully out of harmony +with the depressed atmosphere of the Benda apartment. He felt +his heart grow faint; he felt a burning desire for something, +though he was unable to say precisely what, something sweet and +radiant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span></p><p>On the last landing he stopped, and looked with utter amazement +into the hall below.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius was dancing like a Merry-Andrew around the +door of his residence. He had a crown of silver paper on his head, +and was trying to ward off the importunate advances of a young +girl. His smiles were tender but senile. The girl wore a carnival +costume. Her dark blue velvet dress, covered with threads of +silver, made her robust figure look slenderer than it actually was. +A black veil-like cloth hung from her shoulders to the ground, and +then draped along behind her for about three paces. It was sprinkled +with glittering tinsel. In her hand she held a hideous wax +mask of the face of an old sot with a red nose. She was trying to +fit the mask to Herr Carovius’s face.</p> + +<p>She was working hard to make him yield; she said she was not +going to leave until she had put the mask on his face. Herr +Carovius shook the door, which in the meantime had closed, +fumbled about in his pockets for the key, but the girl gave him +no peace.</p> + +<p>“Come now, Teddy,” she kept crying, “come, Uncle, don’t be +such an old bore.” She kept getting closer and closer to him.</p> + +<p>“You wait, I’ll show you how to make a fool of respectable +people,” croaked Herr Carovius in well-meaning anger. He +resembled an old dog, hopping about and getting ready to make +the plunge when his master throws his walking stick into the +water. In his zeal, however, to prevent the girl from offending +his dignity, he had forgotten the paper crown on his head. It +wabbled and shook so when he hopped around, that the girl nearly +split her sides laughing.</p> + +<p>A maid came in just then with an apronful of snow. The girl +with the sweeping train ran up to her, got some of the snow, and +threatened to pelt Herr Carovius with it. He begged for mercy; +and rather than undergo a bombardment with this cold stuff, he +ceased offering resistance, whereupon the girl walked up to him +and placed the mask on his face. Then, exhausted from laughter, +she laid her head on his shoulder. The maid—it was Döderlein’s +maid—was delighted at the comedy, and made a noise that resembled +the cackling of a hen.</p> + +<p>The scene was dimly lighted by a lamp attached to the adjacent +wall, and had on this account, quite apart from the sight of Herr +Carovius with the paper crown and the toper’s mask, something +fantastic about it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span></p><p>Daniel did not know that the girl was Dorothea Döderlein, +though he half suspected as much. But whoever she was, he was +impressed by her jollity, her actual lust for laughter, her complete +lack of restraint. He had never known that sort of mirthful +hilarity; and if he had known it, he could not recall it. Her +youthful features, her bright eyes, her white teeth, her agile gestures +filled him with deferential respect; his eyes swam with +emotion. He felt so old, so foreign; he felt that where he was +the sun was not shining, the flowers were not budding. He felt +that life had appeared to him all of a sudden and quite unexpectedly +in a new, kindly, bewitching light.</p> + +<p>He came slowly down the steps.</p> + +<p>“Is it possible!” cried Herr Carovius, tearing the mask from his +face. “Can I trust my own eyes? It is our <i>maestro</i>! Or is it +his ghost?”</p> + +<p>“It is both he and his ghost,” replied Daniel drily.</p> + +<p>“This is no place for ghosts,” cried Dorothea, and threw a +snow ball, hitting him square on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>Daniel looked at her; she blushed, and looked at Herr Carovius +questioningly. “Don’t you know our Daniel Nothafft, you little +ignoramus?” said Herr Carovius. “You know nothing of our +coryphæus? Hail to the Master! Welcome home! He is here, +covered with fame!”</p> + +<p>At any other time Herr Carovius’s biliary sarcasm would have +aroused Daniel’s whole stock-in-trade of aversion and indignation. +To-day he was unimpressed by it. “How young she is,” he thought, +as he feasted his eyes on the embarrassed, laughing Dorothea, “how +gloriously young!”</p> + +<p>Dorothea was angry because she did not have on the red dress +she had had made in Munich.</p> + +<p>“Dorothea!” called a strong voice from the first floor.</p> + +<p>“Oh, there’s father!” whispered Dorothea. She was frightened. +She ran up the steps on her tiptoes, dragging her long veil after +her. The maid followed her.</p> + +<p>“A devil, a regular little devil, <i>Maestro</i>,” said Herr Carovius +turning to Daniel. “You must come in some time and hear how +she can draw the bow. She’s a regular little devil, I say.”</p> + +<p>Daniel bade Herr Carovius adieu, and went walking down the +street with bowed head.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span></p><h3>XII</h3> + +<p>In the province, Dorothea Döderlein, fresh from the Bavarian +capital, was a phenomenon that attracted general attention. Her +conduct seemed, to be sure, a bit liberal, but then she was an +artist, and her name appeared in the newspapers every now and +then, so it was only natural to make allowances for her. When +she gave her first concert, Adler Hall was almost completely +sold out.</p> + +<p>The musical critic of the <i>Herold</i> was captivated by her capricious +playing. He called her an extraordinary talent, and predicted a +brilliant future for her. Andreas Döderlein accepted the congratulations +in the spirit of a seasoned patron of the arts; Herr +Carovius was in the seventh heaven of joy. He who had formerly +been so captious never uttered a critical word. He had taken to +worshipping the Dorothea cult, and this had made him quite +indiscriminating.</p> + +<p>At first Dorothea never suffered from want of invitations to all +manner of clubs, dances, and family gatherings. She was much +adored by the young men, so much so that other daughters of the +city of matrimonial age could not sleep from envy. In a short +while, however, the youth of more sterling character, warned +while there was yet time by their mothers, sisters, cousins, and +aunts, withdrew in fear.</p> + +<p>Dorothea reaped the disapproval of her acquaintances by walking +with her admirers in public, unchaperoned. Moreover she +could frequently be seen in the company of officers in the Eisenbeiss +pastry shop, drinking chocolate and having a good time generally. +Once she had been seen in the society of a big blonde Swede from +Schuckert’s factory coming out of the Music Hall. The rumour +was spread that she had lived an irregular life in Munich, had +gadded about the streets at night, contracted a number of bad +debts, and flirted with all kinds of men.</p> + +<p>Yet there were a few serious wooers who, duped by Andreas +Döderlein’s diplomacy, fell into the habit of coming around on +Sunday evenings and taking dinner with father and daughter. +Dorothea, however, always managed to play off one against the +other; and as they were all serious and provincial, they did not +know precisely what to make of it. In order to instil patience +into them, Döderlein took to delivering them lectures on the +intricate complications of the artistic temperament, or he made +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span>mysterious allusions to the handsome legacy to which Dorothea +would one day fall heir.</p> + +<p>It was this very fact, however, that made him exercise caution +with regard to Dorothea. Knowing her spirit of defiance, and +appreciating her youthful lack of judgment, he was afraid she +might make some <i>faux pas</i> that would offend that old fool of a +Carovius. He was already giving her a little spending money, +and the Döderleins found this a highly advantageous arrangement.</p> + +<p>The state of Döderlein’s own finances was hopeless. It was +with the greatest difficulty that he kept up the appearance of a +well-to-do man. The chief cause of his pecuniary embarrassment +was his relation of long standing with a woman by whom he +had had three children. To support this second family, of whose +existence not a soul in his immediate surroundings knew a thing, +burdened him with a care that made it hard for him to preserve +his cheerful, Jove-like disposition.</p> + +<p>He had been leading a double life for fourteen years. His +regular visits to the woman he loved—she lived very quietly out +in the remote suburbs of the city—had to be made without attracting +attention. To conceal his connection with her from the +vigilant eyes of his fellow citizens made constant dissimulation, +discretion, and shrewdness a necessary part of his character. But +to practise these traits year in and year out and suffer at the same +time from economic pressure filled him with suppressed anger +and fear.</p> + +<p>He was afraid of Dorothea. There were moments when he +would have liked to maul her; and yet he saw himself obliged +to hold her in check with kind words. He could not see through +her. But she was always around, always adding to his troubles with +her plans, wishes, engagements and intrigues. He thought he had +her under control, only to discover that she was a tyrant, lording +it over him. Now she would burst out crying because of some +bagatelle, now she was laughing as though nothing had ever happened. +The roses her serious and moneyed admirers brought her +she picked to pieces in their very presence, and threw the pieces +in the waste-paper basket. Döderlein would lecture her in the +kindest and most intelligent way on good morals and gentle manners, +and she would listen as though she were a saint. Five minutes +later she would be hanging out of the window, flirting with the +barber’s boy across the street.</p> + +<p>“I am an unfortunate father,” said Andreas Döderlein to himself, +when, apart from all his other multifarious worries, he began +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span>to be sceptical about Dorothea’s artistic ability. Shortly after her +success in Nuremberg, she gave a concert in Frankfort, but everything +was pretty quiet. Then she toured the small towns of central +Germany, and was received everywhere with the greatest +enthusiasm. But what of it? How much critical acumen is to be +found in such places?</p> + +<p>One evening she was at the home of a certain Frau Feistelmann, +a woman whose past had some connection with nearly every scandal +of the city. While there she met an actor by the name of +Edmund Hahn. Herr Hahn had soft, blonde hair and a pale, +bloated face. He was rather tall and had long legs. Dorothea +raved about long legs. There was a thoroughly sensual atmosphere +about the man; he devoured Dorothea with his impudent eyes. +His build, his bearing, his half blasé, half emphatic way of speaking +made an impression on Dorothea. He sat next to her at the +table, and began to rub his feet against hers. Finally he succeeded +in getting his left foot on her slipper. She tried to pull her foot +back, but the more she tried the harder he bore down on it. She +looked at him in amazement; but he smiled cynically, and in a few +minutes they were desperately intimate. After dinner they withdrew +to a hidden corner, and you could hear Dorothea giggling.</p> + +<p>They arranged to meet each other on a certain street corner +in the dark. He sent her free tickets to “Maria Stuart” and “Die +Räuber.” He played the rôles of Mortimer and Kosinsky; he +roared till you thought the roof would fall in. He introduced +Dorothea to a number of his friends, and these brought their girl +friends along, and they all sat in the Nassau Cellar till break of +day. Among them was a certain Samuelsky, an employé of the +Reutlinger Bank. He had the manners of a man about town, +drank champagne, and went mad over Dorothea. She submitted +to his attention, welcomed it in fact, and accepted presents from +him, though, as it seemed, not until she had received the permission +from Edmund Hahn. Once he tried to kiss her: she gave him a +ringing box on the ears. He wiped his cheek, and called her a +siren.</p> + +<p>She liked the expression. At times she would stand before the +mirror, and whisper: “Siren.”</p> + +<p>When Andreas Döderlein heard of what was going on, he had +an attack of mad rage. “I will put you out of the house,” he +exclaimed, “I will beat you until you are a helpless, despicable +cripple.” But in his eyes there was again the trace of that suppressed +fear that gave the lie to his seeming berserker rage.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span></p><p>“An artist does not need to adapt her morals to the code of the +Philistine,” remarked Dorothea, with complete imperturbability. +“Those are all nice people with whom I am going. Every one +of them is a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>A gentleman: that was an argument against which it was futile +to enter a caveat. In her eyes that man was a gentleman who ran +risks, impressed waiters and coachmen, and wore creased trousers. +“No one dares come too close to me,” she said with much pride. +That was the truth; no one had thus far awakened her deepest +curiosity, and she had determined to put a high price on herself. +Edmund Hahn was the only one who had any influence on her; +and this was true of him because he was absolutely devoid of feeling, +and had a type of shamelessness that completely disarmed and +terrified her.</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein had to let her have her way. If he had +any consolation at all, it lay in the belief on his part that a real +Döderlein would never voluntarily come to grief. If Dorothea +was a genuine Döderlein, she would march straight to her objective, +and take by storm the good and useful things of life. If she +failed, it would be proof that there was a flaw somewhere in her +birth. This was his logic; and having applied it, theoretically, he +enshrouded himself in the clouds of his Olympus.</p> + +<p>Dorothea gave her uncle Carovius, however, detailed accounts +of how she was making her suitors, young and old, walk the war-path. +They all had to do it, the actor and the banker, the candle +manufacturer and the engineer. She said she was leading the +whole pack of them around by the nose. Herr Carovius’s face +beamed with joy when he heard her say this. He called her his +little jackanapes, and said she was the fortune of his old age. To +himself he said that she was a genuine Carovius destined to great +deeds.</p> + +<p>“You don’t have to get married,” he said with the urge of a +zealot of old, and rubbed his hands. “Oh, of course, if a Count +comes along with a few millions and a castle in the background, +why, you might think it over. But just let some greasy comedian +get it into his head that he is going to steal you away from me! +Or let some wabbly-hipped office-boy imagine for a minute that +he is going to drag you into his circle along with his other unwashed +acquaintances! If this ever happens, Dorothea, give it to ’em hot +and heavy! Show the wanton satyrs what kind of blood you have +in you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Uncle,” said Dorothea, “I know you mean well by me. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>You are the only one who does. But if I were only not so poor! +Look at me! Look at this dress I have on! It’s a sight!” And +she put her head in her uplifted arm and sobbed.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius pulled at his moustaches, moved his eyebrows up +and down, went to his writing desk, opened his strong box, took +out a hundred-mark bill, and gave it to her with turned head, as +if he were afraid of the wrath of the protecting spirit of the +money chest.</p> + +<p>This was the state of affairs when Daniel met the youthful +Dorothea in Herr Carovius’s home, and went away with an unforgettable, +unextinguishable picture of her in his soul.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>Daniel’s approaching fortieth birthday seemed like a sombre +portal leading to the realm of spent ambition. “Seize what +remains to be seized,” a voice within him cried. “Grass is growing +on the graves.”</p> + +<p>His senses were at war with his intellect and his heart. He had +never looked on women as he was looking on them now.</p> + +<p>One day he went out to Siegmundshof. Eberhard was not at +home. Sylvia’s face showed traces of subdued sadness. She had +three children, each one more beautiful than the other, but when +her eyes rested on them her heart was filled with grief. Women +whose married life is unhappy have dull, lifeless features; their +hands are transparent and yellow.</p> + +<p>Daniel took leave more quickly than he had wished or intended. +He felt an egoistic aversion to the joyless sons of man.</p> + +<p>He went to see Herr Carovius. The laughing one whom he +sought was not at home.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius looked at him at times distrustfully. The face +of his former foe set him to thinking. It was furrowed like a +field under cultivation and burnt like a hearthstone. It was the +face of a criminal, crabbed, enervated, tense, and breathed upon, +it seemed, by threatening clouds. Herr Carovius was a connoisseur +of faces.</p> + +<p>In order to avoid the discomfort of fatuous conversation, Daniel +played a number of old motetts for Herr Carovius. Herr Carovius +was so pleased that he ran into his pantry, and got a half dozen +Boxdorf apples and put them in Daniel’s pockets. He bought +these apples every autumn by the peck, and cherished them as so +many priceless treasures.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span></p><p>“At the sound of such music it would not be difficult to become +a real Christian,” he said.</p> + +<p>“There is spring in them,” said Daniel, “they are art that is +as innocent as new seed in the soil. But your piano needs +tuning.”</p> + +<p>“Symbolic, symbolic, my dear friend,” cried Herr Carovius, and +puffed out his cheeks. “But you come back another time, and you +will find it in the pink of condition. Come frequently, please. +You will reap the reward of Heaven if you do.”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius begging for company; it was touching. Daniel +promised to bring some of the manuscripts he had been collecting +along with him. When he returned a few days later, Dorothea +was there; and from then on she was always there. His visits +became longer and longer. When Herr Carovius noticed that +Dorothea was coming to see him more frequently now, he moved +heaven and earth to persuade Daniel to come more frequently. +He rained reproach and abuse on him if he failed to come; if he +was late, he greeted him with a sour face and put indiscreet questions +to him. When he was alone of an afternoon, time stood +still. He was like a drinker tantalised by seeing his accustomed +portion of brandy on the table but just beyond his reach. The +company of these two people, Daniel and Dorothea, had become as +indispensable to his happiness as in former years the reading of +the newspapers, the brethren of the Vale of Tears, the troubles +of Eberhard and the funerals were indispensable if he were to feel +at ease. It is the way of the small citizen: each of his customs +becomes a passion.</p> + +<p>When Daniel played the old chorals, Dorothea listened quietly, +though it could not be said that she was perfect at concealing +her tedium.</p> + +<p>One time they began talking about Dorothea’s violin playing. +Herr Carovius asked her to play something. She declined without +the slightest display of affectation. Daniel said nothing to encourage +her; he found that this modesty was becoming to her; he +believed that he detected wisdom and resignation in her behaviour; +he smiled at her graciously.</p> + +<p>“Tell us a story, Daniel,” she said, “that would be better.” +It eventually came out that that was what she had wanted all along.</p> + +<p>“I am a poor raconteur,” said Daniel. “I have a thick tongue.”</p> + +<p>She begged him, however, with stammering words and beseeching +gestures. Herr Carovius tittered. Daniel took off his glasses, +polished them, and looked at the young girl with squinting eyes. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>It seemed as if the glasses had made it difficult for him to see +Dorothea distinctly, or as if he preferred to see her indistinctly. +“I really don’t know what I could tell in the way of a story,” he +replied, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>“Tell us everything, anything,” cried Dorothea, seized with a +veritable fit of eagerness to hear him talk. She stretched out her +hands toward him: that seemed to him to be so like a child. He +had never told stories to a child; he had never in truth told stories +to any one. Gertrude and Eleanore had, to be sure, forced a confession +or a complaint from him at times, but that was all, and all +that was necessary or appropriate.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he was drawn on by the word in which his fate would +be quietly reflected; by the fiery young eye in the brilliancy of +which the complex became simple, the dark bright; by the wicked +old man to whom the whole world, as seen from his mire, had +become a poisonous food.</p> + +<p>And with his brittle, staccato voice he told of the countries +through which he had journeyed; of the sea and the cities by the +sea; of the Alps and the Alpine lakes; of cathedrals, palaces, and +marvellous monasteries; of the queer people he had met, of his +work and his loneliness. It was all incoherent, arid, and loveless. +Though sorely tempted, he desisted from mentioning things that +came close to his soul; things that moved his heart, fired his brain. +When he told of the Jewess, the Swallow, he did not even finish +the sentence. He made a long pause, and then shifted to the +account of his visit to Eschenbach. Here he stopped again before +he was through.</p> + +<p>But Dorothea began to ask questions. It was all too general and +therefore unsatisfactory. “What was there in Eschenbach? Why +did you go there?” she asked boldly.</p> + +<p>He was in error concerning the hot desire that burned in her +eyes to know about Eschenbach. Her question made him feel +good; he believed that he was on the scent of warm-heartedness; +he thought he had found a soul that was eager to help through +knowledge. He was seized with the desire of the mature man to +fashion an untouched soul in harmony with the picture of his +dreams. “My mother used to live there,” he replied hesitatingly, +“she has died.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—and?” breathed Dorothea. She saw that that was not all.</p> + +<p>He felt that this uncompromising reticence was not right; he +felt a sense of guilt. With still greater hesitation—and immediate +repentance—he added: “A child of mine also lived there; she was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span>eleven years old. She has disappeared; no one knows where she is.”</p> + +<p>Dorothea folded her hands, “A child? And disappeared? Simply +vanished?” she whispered excitedly.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius looked like a man sitting on a hot iron. “Eleven +years old?” he asked, hungry for sensation, “why—that was, then—before +the time ...”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was before the time,” said Daniel gloomily and by way +of confirmation. He had betrayed himself, and was angry at himself +for having done so. He became silent; it was impossible to +get him to say another word.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius noticed how Dorothea hung on Daniel’s eyes. +A tormenting suspicion arose in him. “Yesterday out on St. +Joseph’s Place, I was talking with one of your admirers, the fellow +who shatters the wings of the stage with his ranting,” he began +with malice aforethought. “The blade had the nerve to say to me: +‘You’d better hurry up and get Dorothea Döderlein a husband, or +people will talk their tongues loose in their throats.’”</p> + +<p>“That is not true,” cried Dorothea indignantly, blushing to the +roots of her hair. “He didn’t say that.”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius laughed malevolently. “Well, if it is not true, +it is pretty well put together,” he said with his usual bleat.</p> + +<p>When Daniel left, Dorothea accompanied him to the outside +door.</p> + +<p>“It’s a pity,” murmured Daniel, “a pity!”</p> + +<p>“Why a pity? I am free. There isn’t a soul in the world +who has any claim on me.” She looked at him with the courage +of a real woman.</p> + +<p>“There are remarks that are just like grease spots,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“Well, who can keep from the dirt these days?” she asked, almost +wild with excitement.</p> + +<p>Daniel let his eyes rest on her as though she were some material +object. He said slowly and seriously: “Keep your hands and your +eyes off of me, Dorothea. I will bring you no happiness.”</p> + +<p>Her lips opened, thirsty. “I should like to take a walk with you +some time,” she whispered, and her features trembled with an +ecstasy which he was dupe enough to believe was meant for him; +in reality Dorothea was thinking of the adventurer and the disclosure +of the secret.</p> + +<p>“Many years ago,” said Daniel, “you will scarcely recall it, I +protected you here in this very same gateway from a big dog. Do +you remember?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span></p><p>“No! Or do I? Wait a minute! Yes, I remember, that is, +quite indistinctly. You did that?” Dorothea seized his hands +with gratitude.</p> + +<p>“Fine! Then we will go walking to-morrow morning. Where? +Oh, it doesn’t make much difference,” said Daniel.</p> + +<p>“But you must tell me everything, you hear? everything.” +Dorothea was as insistent as she had been in the room a short while +ago; and she was more impetuous and impatient.</p> + +<p>They agreed upon the place where they would meet.</p> + + +<h3>XIV</h3> + +<p>At first they took short walks in remote parts of the city; then +they took longer ones. On Mid-Summer Day they strolled out to +Kraftshof and the grove of the Pegnitz shepherds. Daniel made +unconscious effort to avoid the places where he had once walked +with Eleanore.</p> + +<p>There came moments when Dorothea’s exuberance made him +pensive and sad; he felt the weight of his forty years; they were +inclined to make him hypochondriacal. Was it the vengeance of +fate that made him slow up when they came to a hill, while +Dorothea ran on ahead and waited for him, laughing?</p> + +<p>She did not see the flowers, the trees, the animals, or the clouds. +But when she saw people a change came over her: she would +become more active; or she would mobilise her resources; or she +seemed to strike up a spiritual liaison with them. It might be +only a peasant boy on an errand or a vagabond going nowhere; +she would shake her hips and laugh one note higher.</p> + +<p>“Her youth has gone to her head, like wine,” Daniel thought to +himself.</p> + +<p>Once she took a box of chocolate bon-bons along. Having had +enough of them herself and seeing that Daniel did not care for +them, she threw what was left away. Daniel reproached her for +her wastefulness. “Why drag it along?” she asked with perfect +lack of embarrassment, “when you have enough of a thing you +throw it away.” She showed her white teeth, and took in one +deep breath of fresh air after another.</p> + +<p>Daniel studied her. “She is invulnerable,” he said to himself; +“her power to wish is invincible, her fulness of life complete.” +He felt that she bore a certain resemblance to his Eva; that she +was one of those elves of light in whose cheerfulness there is occasionally +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span>a touch of the terrible. He decided then and there not to +let mischievous chance have its own way: he was going to put out +his hand when he felt it was advisable.</p> + +<p>“When are you going to begin to tell me the stories?” she asked: +“I must, I must know all about you,” she added with much warmth +of expression. “There are days and nights when I cannot rest. +Tell me! Tell me!”</p> + +<p>That was the truth. In order to penetrate his life history, which +she pictured to herself as full of passionate, checkered events, she +had done everything that he had demanded of her.</p> + +<p>Daniel refused; he was silent; he was afraid he would darken +the girl’s pure mind, jeopardise her unsuspecting innocence. He +was afraid to conjure up the shadows.</p> + +<p>One day she was talking along in her easy way, and while so +doing she tripped herself up. She had begun to tell him about +the men she had been going with; and before she knew what she +was doing, she had fallen into the tone she used when she talked +with her Uncle Carovius. Becoming suddenly aware of her indiscretion, +she stopped, embarrassed. Daniel’s serious questions caused +her to make some confessions she would otherwise never have +thought of making. She told a goodly number of rather murky +and ugly stories, and it was very hard for her to act as though she +were innocent or the victim of circumstances. At last, unable +longer to escape from the net she had woven, she made a clean +breast of her whole life, painted it all in the gaudiest colours, and +then waited in breathless—but agreeable—suspense to see what +effect it would have on Daniel.</p> + +<p>Daniel was silent for a while; then he made a motion with his +outstretched hand as if he were cutting something in two: “Away +from them, Dorothea, or away from me!”</p> + +<p>Dorothea bowed her head, and then looked at him timidly from +head to foot. The decisiveness with which he spoke was something +new to her, though it was by no means offensive. A voluptuous +shudder ran through her limbs. “Yes,” she whispered girlishly, +“I am going to put an end to it. I never realised what it all +meant. But don’t be angry, will you? No, you won’t, will you?”</p> + +<p>She came closer to him; her eyes were filled with tears. “Don’t +be angry at me,” she said again, “poor Dorothea can’t help it. She +is not responsible for it.”</p> + +<p>“But how did you come to do it?” asked Daniel. “I can’t see +how it was possible. Weren’t you disgusted to the very bottom +of your soul? How could you go about under God’s free heavens +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span>with such hyenas? Why, girl, the very thought of it fills me with +scepticism about everything.”</p> + +<p>“What should I have done, Daniel?” she said, calling him by his +baptismal name for the first time. She spoke with a felicitous +mixture of submissiveness and boldness that touched and at the +same time enchanted him. “What should I have done? They +come and talk to you, and spin their nets about you; and at home +it is so dreary and lonely, and your heart is so empty and Father +is so mean, you haven’t got anybody else in the world to talk to.” +Such was her defence, effective even if more voluble than coherent.</p> + +<p>They walked on. They were passing through a valley in the +forest. On either side were tall pine trees, the crowns of which +were lighted by the evening sun.</p> + +<p>“You can’t play with Fate, Dorothea,” said Daniel. “It does +not permit smudging or muddling, if we are to stand the test. It +keeps a faultless ledger; the entries it makes on both sides are the +embodiment of accuracy. Debts that we contract must always be +paid, somehow, somewhere.”</p> + +<p>Dorothea felt that he was getting started; that the great, good +story was about to come. She stopped, spread her shawl on the +ground, and took a graceful position on it, all eyes and ears. Daniel +threw himself on the moss beside her.</p> + +<p>And he told his story—into the moss where little insects were +creeping around. He never raised either his eye or his voice. +At times Dorothea had to bend over to hear him.</p> + +<p>He told about Gertrude, her torpor, her awakening, her love, +her resignation. He told about Eleanore; told how he had loved +her without knowing it. He told how Eleanore, out of an excess +of passion and suffering, became his, how Gertrude wandered about +dazed, unhappy, lost, until she finally took her life: “Then we went +up to the attic, and found it on fire and her lifeless body hanging +from the rafter.”</p> + +<p>He told how Gertrude had lived on as a shadow by the side of +Eleanore, and how Eleanore became a flower girl, and how Philippina +the inexplicable, and still inexplicable, had come into his +family, and how Gertrude’s child lived there like an unfed foundling, +and how the other child, the child he had had by the maid, +had found such a warm spot in his heart.</p> + +<p>He told of his meeting the two sisters, their speaking and their +remaining silent, his seeing them in secret trysts, the moving about +from house to house and room to room, the singing of songs, his +experiences with the Dörmaul opera company, the light thrown +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span>on his drab life by a mask, his friend and the help he had received +from him, his separation from him, the brush-maker’s house on +St. James’s Place, the three queer old maids in the Long Row, the +days he spent at Castle Erfft, the old father of the two sisters +and his strange doings—all of this he described in the tone of a +man awakening from a deep sleep. There was a confidence in what +he said and the way he said it that mayhap terrified the hovering +spirits of the evening, though it did not fill Dorothea’s eyes, then +glistening like polished metal, with a more intimate or cordial +light.</p> + +<p>When he looked up he felt he saw two sombre figures standing +on the edge of the forest; he felt he saw the two sisters, and that +they were casting mournful, reproachful glances at him.</p> + +<p>He got up. “And all that,” he concluded, “all that has been +drunk up, like rain by the parched earth, by a work on which I +have been labouring for the past seven years. For seven years. +Two more years, and I will give it to the world, provided this +unsteady globe has not fallen into the sun by that time.”</p> + +<p>Dorothea had a confused, haphazard idea as to the type of +man that was standing before her. She was seized with a prickling +desire for him such as she had thus far never experienced. She +began to love him, in her way. Something impelled her to seek +shelter by him, near him, somewhat as a bird flies under the crown +of a tree at the approach of a storm. Daniel interpreted the +timidity with which she put her arm in his as a sign of gratitude.</p> + +<p>And in this mood he took her back to the city.</p> + + +<h3>XV</h3> + +<p>It was in this pulsing, urging, joyful mood that Daniel worked +at and completed the fifth movement of his symphony, a <i>scherzo</i> +of grand proportions, beginning with a clarinet figure that symbolised +laughing <i>sans-souci</i>. All the possibilities of joy developed +from this simple motif. Nor was retrospection or consolation lacking. +If the main themes, mindful of their former pre-eminence, +seemed inclined to widen the bed of their stream, they were +appeased and forced back into their original channel by artistic +and capriciously alternating means. Once all three themes flowed +along together, gaining strength apparently through their union, +rose to a wonderful fugue, and seemed to be just on the point of +gaining the victory when the whole orchestra, above the chord in +D sevenths, was seized by the waltz melody, those melancholy sister-strains +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span>were taken up by the violins, and fled, dirge-like, to their +unknown abodes. Just before the jubilant crescendo of the finale, +a bassoon solo held one of them fast on its distant, grief-stricken +heights.</p> + +<p>Daniel sketched the sixth movement in the following fourteen +nights.</p> + +<p>He was fully aware of the fact that he had never been able to +work this way before. When a man accomplishes the extraordinary, +he knows it. It seizes him like a disease, and fills him like a profound +dream.</p> + +<p>At times he felt as though he must tell some one about it, even +if it were only Herr Carovius. But once the flame had died +down, he could not help but laugh at the temptation to which he +had felt himself subjected. “Patience,” he thought, feeling more +assured than ever, “patience, patience!”</p> + +<p>Since his work on the manuscripts was completed and his connection +with the firm of Philander and Sons dissolved, he began to +look around for another position. He had saved in the course of +the last few years four thousand marks, but he wished to keep +this sum intact.</p> + +<p>He learned that the position of organist at the Church of St. +Ægydius was vacant; he went to the pastor, who recommended him +to his superiors. It was decided that he should play something +before the church consistory. This he did one morning in October. +The trial proved eminently successful to his exacting auditors.</p> + +<p>He was appointed organist at St. Ægydius’s at a salary of twelve +hundred marks a year. When he played on Sundays and holidays, +the people came into the church just to hear him.</p> + + +<h3>XVI</h3> + +<p>Among the suitors for the hand of Dorothea on whom Andreas +Döderlein looked with special favour was the mill owner, a man +by the name of Weisskopf. Herr Weisskopf was passionately fond +of music. He had greatly admired Dorothea when she gave her +concert, and had sent her a laurel wreath.</p> + +<p>One day Herr Weisskopf came in and took dinner with the +Döderleins. When he left, Döderlein said to his daughter: “My +dear Dorothea, from this day on you may consider yourself betrothed. +This admirable man desires to have you as his lawfully +wedded wife. It is a great good fortune; the man is as rich as +Crœsus.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span></p><p>Instead of making a reply, Dorothea laughed heartily. But she +knew that the time had come when something had to be done. +Her mobile face twitched with scorn, fear, and desire.</p> + +<p>“Think it over; sleep on it. I have promised Herr Weisskopf to +let him know to-morrow,” said Döderlein, black-browed.</p> + +<p>A week before this, Andreas Döderlein, confidently expecting +that Herr Weisskopf would ask for the hand of his daughter, had +borrowed a thousand marks from him. The miller had loaned +him the money believing that he was thereby securing a promissory +note on Dorothea. Döderlein had placed himself under obligations, +and was consequently determined to carry out his plans with +regard to the marriage of his daughter.</p> + +<p>But Dorothea’s behaviour made it safe to predict that objections +would be raised on her part. Döderlein was in trouble; he sought +distraction. Sixteen years ago he had begun an <i>opus</i> entitled “All +Souls: a Symphonic Picture.” Five pages of the score had been +written, and since then he had never undertaken creative work. +He rummaged around in his desk, found the score, went to the +piano, and tried to take up the thread where he had lost it sixteen +years ago. He tried to imagine the intervening time merely as a +pause, an afternoon siesta.</p> + +<p>It would not go. He sighed. He sat before the instrument, +and stared at the paper like a schoolboy who has a problem to solve +but has forgotten the rule. He seemed to lament the loss of his +artistic ability. He felt so hollow. The notes grinned at him; +they mocked him. His thoughts turned involuntarily to the miller. +He improvised for a while. Dorothea stuck her head in the door +and sang: “Rhinegold, Rhinegold, pu-re gold.”</p> + +<p>He was enraged; he got up, slammed the lid of the piano, took +his hat and top coat, left the house, and went out to see his friend +in the suburbs.</p> + +<p>When he returned that night, he saw Dorothea standing in the +door with a man. It was the actor, Edmund Hahn. They were +carrying on a heated conversation in whispers. The man was holding +Dorothea by the arm, but when Döderlein became visible from +the unlighted street, he uttered an ugly oath and quickly disappeared.</p> + +<p>Dorothea looked her father straight, and impudently, in the face, +and followed him into the dark house.</p> + +<p>When they were upstairs and had lighted the lamp, Döderlein +turned to her, and asked her threateningly: “What do you mean +by these immodest associations? Tell me! I want an answer!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span></p><p>“I don’t want to marry your flour sack. That’s my answer,” said +Dorothea, with a defiant toss of her head.</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll see,” said Döderlein, pale with rage and ploughing +through his hair with his fingers, “we’ll see. Get out of here! +I have no desire to lose my well-earned sleep on account of such +an ungrateful hussy. We’ll take up the subject again to-morrow +morning.”</p> + +<p>The next morning Dorothea hastened to Herr Carovius. “Uncle,” +she stammered, “he wants to marry me to that flour sack.”</p> + +<p>“Yes? Well, I suppose I’ll have to visit that second-rate musician +in his studio again and give him a piece of my mind. In the +meantime be calm, my child, be calm,” said he, stroking her brown +hair, “Old Carovius is still alive.”</p> + +<p>Dorothea nestled up to him, and smiled: “What would you say, +Uncle,” she began with a knavish and at the same time unusually +attentive expression in her face, “if I were to marry Daniel +Nothafft? You like him,” she continued in a flattering tone, and +held him fast by the shoulder when he started back, “you like him, +I know you do. I must marry somebody; for I do not wish to be +an old maid, and I can’t stand Father any longer.”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius tore himself loose from her. “To the insane +asylum with you!” he cried. “I would rather see you go to bed +with that meal sack. Is the Devil in you, you prostitute? If your +skin itches, scratch it, so far as I am concerned, but take a stable +boy to do it, as Empress Katherine of blessed memory did. Buy +fine dresses, bedizen yourself with tom-foolery of all shades and +colours, go to dances and lap up champagne, make music or throw +your damn fiddle on the dung heap, do anything you want to do, +I’ll pay for it; but that green-eyed phantast, that lunk-headed rat-catcher, +that woman-eater and music-box bird, no, no! Never! +Send him humping down the stairs and out the front door! For +God’s sake and the sake of all the saints, don’t marry him! Don’t, +I say. If you do, it’s all off between you and me.”</p> + +<p>There was such a look of hate and fear in Herr Carovius’s face +that Dorothea was almost frightened. His hair was as towsled as +the twigs of an abandoned bird’s nest; water was dripping from the +corners of his mouth; his eyes were inflamed; his glasses were on +the tip of his nose.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have made Dorothea more pleased with the story +Daniel had told her than Herr Carovius’s ravings. Her eyes were +opened wide, her mouth was thirsty. If she had hesitated at times +before, she did so no more. She loved money; greed was a part +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span>of her make-up from the hour she was born. But if Herr Carovius +had laid the whole of his treasures at her feet, and said to her, +“You may have them if you will renounce Daniel Nothafft,” she +would have replied, “Your money, my Daniel.”</p> + +<p>Something terribly strange and strong drew her to the man she +had just heard so volubly cursed. That sensual prickling was of +a more dangerous violence and warmth in his presence than in that +of any other man she had ever known; and she had known a +number. To her he was a riddle and a mystery; she wanted to +solve the one and clear up the other. He had possessed so many +women, indubitably more than he had confessed to her; and she +wished now to possess him. He was so quiet, so clever, so resolute: +she wanted his quietness, his cleverness, his resoluteness. She +wanted everything he had, his charm, his magic, his power over +men, all that he displayed and all that he concealed.</p> + +<p>She thought of him constantly; she thought in truth of no one +else, and nothing else. Her thoughts fluttered about his picture, +shyly, greedily, and as playfully as a kitten. He had managed to +bring will power and unity into her senses. She wanted to have +him.</p> + +<p>The rain beat against the window. Terrified at Dorothea’s +thoughtfulness, Herr Carovius pressed his hands to his cheeks. “I +see, I see, you want to leave me all alone,” he said in a tone that +sounded like the howling of a dog in the middle of the night. +“You want to deceive me, to surrender me to the enemy, to leave +me nothing, nothing but the privilege of sitting here and staring +at my four walls. I see, I see.”</p> + +<p>“Be still, Uncle, nothing is going to happen. It is all a huge +joke,” said Dorothea with feigned good humour and kind intentions. +She walked to the door slowly, looking back every now and +then with a smile on her face.</p> + + +<h3>XVII</h3> + +<p>It was early in the morning when Dorothea rang Daniel’s bell. +Philippina opened the door, but she did not wish to let Dorothea +in. She forced an entrance, however, and, standing in the door, +she inspected Philippina with the eye of arrogance, always a clear-sighted +organ.</p> + +<p>“Look out, Philippin’, there’s something rotten here,” murmured +Philippina to herself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span></p><p>Daniel was at work. He got up and looked at Dorothea, who +carefully closed the door.</p> + +<p>“Here I am, Daniel,” she said, and breathed a sigh of relief, +like a swimmer who has just reached the land.</p> + +<p>“What is it all about?” asked Daniel, seemingly ill inclined to +become excited.</p> + +<p>“I have done what you wanted me to do, Daniel: I have broken +away from them. I cannot tolerate Father a minute longer. Where +should I go if not to you?”</p> + +<p>Daniel went up to her, and laid his hands on her shoulders. +“Girl, girl!” he said as if to warn her. He felt uneasy.</p> + +<p>They looked into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an +eternity. Daniel was apparently trying to peer into the innermost +recesses of her soul. Dorothea’s eyes sparkled with daring; +she did not lower her lids. Suddenly, as if moved from within, +Daniel bent over and kissed her on the forehead.</p> + +<p>“You know who I am,” he said, and walked back and forth in +the room. “You know how I have lived and how I am living at +present. I am a guilty man, and a lonely man. My nature +craves tenderness, but is unable to give tenderness in return. My +lot is a hard one, and whoever decides to share it with me must +be able to bear her part of this hardness. I am frequently my own +enemy and the enemy of those who mean well by me. I am not +a humourist, and make a poor impression in society. I can be +gruff, offensive, spiteful, irreconcilable, and revengeful. I am +ugly, poor, and no longer young. Are you not afraid of your +twenty-three years, Dorothea?”</p> + +<p>Dorothea shook her head vigorously.</p> + +<p>“Test yourself, Dorothea, examine yourself,” he continued +urgently, “don’t be too inexact, too careless with me, nor with +yourself. Study the situation from all sides, so that we may make +no false calculations. Fate, you know, is fate. Love can get +control of me more than I can get control of myself, and when +this takes place I will do everything in my power. But I must +have confidence, unlimited confidence. If I were to lose confidence, +I should be like a mortal proscribed to Hell, an outcast, an +evil spirit. Examine yourself, Dorothea. You must know what +you are doing; it is your affair, and it is a sacred one.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot do otherwise, Daniel!” cried Dorothea, and threw +herself on his bosom.</p> + +<p>“Then God be merciful to us,” said Daniel.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span></p><h3>XVIII</h3> + +<p>Daniel took Dorothea over to Sylvia von Erfft’s at Siegmundshof. +He had written to her, given her all the details, explained the +entire situation, and begged her to take Dorothea in and entertain +her until the day of the wedding. Sylvia had shown herself most +obliging in the matter; she met his requests with unaffected cordiality.</p> + +<p>Dorothea had spent two nights at home, during which she had +succeeded in evading all explanations with her father. She did +this by having him agree to give her three days to think it over. +On the morning of the third day, after her father had gone to +the conservatory, she packed up her belongings and left the house.</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein found the following letter from her: “Dear +Father: Abandon all your hopes with regard to my marrying Herr +Weisskopf. I am of age and can marry whomsoever I wish. I +have already made my choice. The man who is going to lead me +to the altar is called Daniel Nothafft. He loves me perhaps even +more than I deserve, and I will make him a good wife. This is +my unalterable decision, and you yourself will certainly come to +see that it is nobler to obey the impulses of one’s own heart than +to allow one’s self to be led on and blinded by material considerations. +Your loving daughter, Dorothea.”</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein had a sinking spell. The letter slipped from +his fingers and fell to the floor. Trembling in his whole body, +he walked up to the covered table, took a glass and hurled it against +the wall. The glass broke into a thousand pieces. “I will choke +you, you impious toad!” he panted, shook his clenched fist, went to +Dorothea’s room, and, seized with boundless wrath, upset the chairs +and the little dressing table.</p> + +<p>The maid, terrified, ran into the living room. She saw Dorothea’s +letter lying on the floor, picked it up, and read it. When +she heard her mad master returning, she ran down stairs to the +ground floor, rang Herr Carovius’s bell, and showed him the letter. +His face turned yellow as he read it. The maid uttered a shrill, +piercing cry, snatched the letter from Herr Carovius’s hands, and +ran out into the court, for she heard Andreas Döderlein stumbling +down the steps. He wanted to call the police and have them +lock up the abductor of his daughter. Catching sight of Herr +Carovius in the hall, he stopped and fixed his eyes on him. In +them there was a sea of anger; and yet it was obvious that Andreas +Döderlein was eager to ask a question or two. It seemed indeed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span>that just one conciliatory statement, even a single gesture on the +part of the man whom he had scrupulously avoided for years, +would make bye-gones be bye-gones and convert two implacable +foes into friends, colleagues indeed in the business of revenge and +punishment.</p> + +<p>But Herr Carovius was done with the world. His face was +distorted; grimaces of unrelieved meanness furrowed his brow; his +contempt knew no bounds. He turned about and slammed the +door leading into his apartment with a bang that showed his intention +of shutting himself up in his own stronghold.</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein got as far as the entrance to the Town Hall. +There he was suddenly seized with grave doubts. He stared at +the pavement for a while, sad and sinister, and then started back +home. His steps were not half so impetuous as they had been +on the way over; they gave evidence of weakened will and fading +energy.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he reached home when Daniel was announced. +“You have the boldness, Sir,” he cried out to Daniel on his entering. +“You have the boldness to appear in my sight? By the +gods above, you are going far!”</p> + +<p>“I will accept any challenge you make,” said Daniel, with the +chilly dignity that was characteristic of him in such circumstances +and that never failed to have a sobering effect on his potential +antagonist. “I have nothing to fear. I should like to live in +peace with the father of my wife, and for this reason I have come +to you.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what you are doing to me? You have stolen my +daughter, man!” cried Döderlein with pathos. “But just wait. +I will checkmate your plans. I will make you feel the full measure +of my power.”</p> + +<p>Daniel smiled contemptuously. “I am certain of that,” he +replied. “I will feel your power as long as I live; I have always +felt it. But I have never submitted to it, and up to the present I +have always been able to break it. Think it over! Recall my past +history! And devote a few of your meditative moments to your +child. Adieu!” With that Daniel left.</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein was ill at ease. The man’s smile followed +him wherever he went. What could the desperado be planning? +A bad conscience paralyses evil determinations. For more than a +week, Döderlein waged perpetual war with his pride. And then? +Daniel did not allow himself to be seen; he received no news +of any kind from Dorothea; and, climax of it all, Herr Weisskopf +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span>notified him that his note for one thousand marks, with interest, +was due. Döderlein saw that there was nothing to be done about +it all except to recognise the dénouement as a fact and not as a +stage scene. And one day he hobbled up the steps of the house +on Ægydius Place.</p> + +<p>“I am glad to see you,” said Daniel as he reached out his hand +to his visitor.</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein spoke of a father’s bleeding heart, of the +crushing of proud hopes, of the impiety of youth, and the lonesomeness +of old age. And then, rather disconnectedly, beating a +tattoo with the fingers of his big hand on the top of the table, he +spoke of the constraint in which he found himself with reference +to the opulent owner of the mill. He told Daniel he had gone +on a man’s note, had been suddenly obliged to redeem the note, and +not having so much ready money at his disposal, had accepted a +loan from the rich aspirant for Dorothea’s hand.</p> + +<p>Daniel was forced to admit that his troubles were humiliating +and that the money would have to be raised. Döderlein said it +amounted to fifteen hundred marks. He was surprised himself +when he mentioned the sum which assured him a clear gain of +fifty per cent. It had been a clever idea, serving as it did to put +the generosity of his future son-in-law to test. At the bottom of +his heart he felt that his action was dishonourable, and was consequently +touched when Daniel, giving this inroad on his savings +but a moment’s thought, promised to send him the money the +following day.</p> + +<p>“You make me feel ashamed of myself, Daniel, really you do. +Let us bury the hatchet! We are after all colleagues in Apollo. +Or aren’t we? Call me Father, and I will call you Son! Address +me with <i>Du</i>, and I will follow your example.”</p> + +<p>Daniel gave him his hand without saying a word.</p> + +<p>Döderlein asked about Dorothea; and when Daniel told him +where she was, he seemed quite contented. “Tell her my house +and my arms are open to her; tell her of the change in the constellation,” +he said softly. “We have both done each other injustice +and have both repented.”</p> + +<p>Daniel replied quite conventionally that he thought it better +to leave Dorothea with Sylvia von Auffenberg.</p> + +<p>“As you wish, my son,” said Andreas Döderlein, “I bow to the +claims of your young happiness. Now we should have a bottle +of Malvoisie or Moselle, so that I can drink to the health of my +dear, unruly daughter. Or don’t you care to?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span></p><p>Daniel went to send Philippina to the Golden Posthorn. But +Philippina had gone out with Agnes. He saw one of the maids +from one of the other apartments standing on the steps, and got +her to run the errand. It was a long while before she returned, +and when the wine was finally poured out, Döderlein had not time +to drink: he was scheduled to give a lecture in the conservatory at +seven. He drank about half of his glass, and then took hasty leave +of Daniel, shaking his hand with unwonted fervour.</p> + +<p>Daniel sat for a while thinking it all over. There was a knock +at the door, and old Jordan came in. “May I?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Daniel nodded. Jordan took a seat on the chair Döderlein had +been sitting on. He looked into Daniel’s face quizzically. “Is it +true, Daniel, that you are going to get married again? That you +are going to marry the Döderlein girl?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Father, it is true,” replied Daniel. He got a fresh glass, +filled it, and pushed it over to the old man. “Drink, Father!” he +said.</p> + +<p>The old man sipped the wine with an air of adoration. “It +must be nine or ten years since I have had any wine,” he said more +or less to himself.</p> + +<p>“You have not had a happy life,” replied Daniel.</p> + +<p>“I will not complain, Daniel. I bear it because I have to. And +who knows? Perhaps there is still a measure of joy in store for +me. Perhaps; who knows?”</p> + +<p>The two men sat in silence and drank. It was so still that you +could hear the fluttering of the light in the lamp.</p> + +<p>“Where can Philippina be?” asked Daniel.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Philippina. I had forgot to tell you,” began old Jordan +sorrowfully. “She came to me this afternoon, and told me she +was going over to Frau Hadebusch’s with Agnes and was going +to stay there until after the wedding. But she spoke in such a +confused way that I couldn’t make out just what she planned to do. +It sounded in fact as though she were thinking of leaving the +house for good and all. I wonder whether the girl isn’t a little +off in her head? Day before yesterday I heard an awful racket +in the kitchen; and when I went down, I saw at least six plates +lying on the floor all smashed to pieces. And as if this was not +enough, she threatened to throw the dishwater on me. She was +swearing like a trooper. Now tell me: how is this? Can she go +over to Frau Hadebusch’s, and take Agnes with her without getting +any one’s consent?”</p> + +<p>Daniel made no reply. The thought of Philippina filled him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span>with anguish; he feared some misfortune. He felt that he would +have to let her have her way.</p> + + +<h3>XIX</h3> + +<p>In the night Daniel became very much excited. He left the +house, and, despite the darkness and the snow storm, wandered +out to the country quite unmindful of the cold and snow and +the wind.</p> + +<p>He listened to the whisperings of his soul; he took council +with himself. He looked up at the great black vaulted arch of +heaven as though he were beseeching the powers above to send +him the light he felt he needed. The morning of the approaching +day seemed bleaker, blacker to him than the night that was +passing. He was lost in anxiety: he went over to his graves.</p> + +<p>He did not stop to think until well on his way that the gate +to the cemetery would be closed; but he kept on going. He +looked around for a place in the wall where he might climb over. +Finally he found one, climbed up, scratched his hands painfully, +leaped down into some snow-covered hedges, and then wandered +around with his burden of grief over the stormy, desolate field of +the dead. As he stood before Gertrude’s grave he was overwhelmed +with the feeling of the hour: there were voices in the storm; he +felt that the horror and the memory of it all would hurl him to +the ground. But when he stood by the grave of Eleanore, he felt +his peace return. The clouds suddenly opened on the distant +horizon, and a moonbeam danced about him.</p> + +<p>It was almost morning when he reached home.</p> + +<p>A week later he went over to Siegmundshof and got Dorothea.</p> + +<p>Sylvia and Dorothea came down through a snow-covered alley +to meet him. They were walking arm in arm, and Sylvia was +laughing at Dorothea’s easy-flowing conversation. They seemed to +be getting along perfectly together: there could be no mistaking +the picture he saw before him. Sylvia told Daniel when she was +alone with him that she had taken a great liking to Dorothea. She +remarked that her cheerfulness was irresistible and contagious, and +that when she was with children she became a child herself.</p> + +<p>Yet, despite all this, Sylvia studied Daniel. And when Dorothea +was present she studied her too: she cast fleeting, searching, unassured +glances at them—at Daniel and at Dorothea.</p> + +<p>Daniel and Dorothea were married on a sunny day in December.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span><a name="DOROTHEA" id="DOROTHEA"></a>DOROTHEA</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">For</span> the past fortnight, Philippina and Agnes had been living +at Frau Hadebusch’s. A message came from Daniel telling Philippina +that she and Agnes should return, or, if she preferred to stay +with Frau Hadebusch, she should send Agnes home at once.</p> + +<p>“There you have it,” said Frau Hadebusch, “the master speaks.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, him—he’s been speakin’ to me for a long while. Much +good it does him,” said Philippina. “The child stays with me, +and I’m not going back. That settles it! What, Agnes? Yes?”</p> + +<p>Agnes was sitting on the bench by the stove with Henry the idiot, +reading the greasy pages of a cheap novel. When Philippina +spoke to her, she looked up in a distracted way and smiled. The +twelve-year-old child had a perfectly expressionless face; and as +she never got out of the house for any length of time, her skin +was almost yellow.</p> + +<p>“It ain’t no use to try to buck him,” continued Frau Hadebusch, +who looked as old as the mountains and resembled generally a +crippled witch, “he c’n demand the kid, and if he does he’ll git +her. If you ain’t careful, I’ll get mixed up in the mess before +long.”</p> + +<p>“Well, how do you feel about it, Agnes? Do you want to go +back to your daddy?” said Philippina, turning to the girl, and +looking at Frau Hadebusch in a knowing way.</p> + +<p>Agnes’s face clouded up. She hated her father. This was +the point to which Philippina had brought matters by her incessant +whisperings and ugly remarks behind Daniel’s back. Agnes +was convinced that she was a burden to her father, and his marriage +had merely confirmed what she already felt she knew. Deep +in her silent soul she carried the picture of her prematurely deceased +mother, as if it were that of a woman who had been murdered, +sacrificed. Philippina had told her how her mother had committed +suicide; it was a fearful tale in her language. It had been the +topic of conversation between her and her charge on many a cold, +dark winter evening. Agnes always said that when she was big +and could talk, she would take vengeance on her father.</p> + +<p>When she could talk! That was her most ardent wish. For +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span>she was silent-born. Her soul pined in a prison that was much +harsher and harder than that in which her mother’s soul had been +housed and harassed. Gertrude had some bright moments; Agnes +never. She was incapable of enthusiasm; she could not look up. +For her heart, her soul was not merely asleep, torpid, lethargic; +it was hopelessly dried up, withered. Life was not in it.</p> + +<p>“I am not going to those Döderleins,” she said, crying.</p> + +<p>But in the evening Daniel came over. He took Philippina to +one side, and had a serious talk with her. He explained the reasons +for his getting married a third time as well as he could +without going too deeply into the subject. “I needed a wife; I +needed a woman to keep house for me; I needed a companion. +Philippina, I am very grateful to you for what you have done, but +there must also be a woman in my home who can cheer me up, +turn my thoughts to higher things. I have a heavy calling; that +you cannot appreciate. So don’t get stubborn, Philippina. Pack +up your things, and come back home. How can we get along +without you?”</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life he spoke to her as though she +were a woman and a human being. Philippina stared at him. +Then she burst out into a loud, boisterous laugh, and began to +show her whole supply of scorn. “Jesus, Daniel, how you c’n flatter +a person! Who’d a thought it! You’ve always been such a sour +dough. Very well. Say: ‘Dear Philippina!’ Say it real slow: +‘D-e-a-r Philippina,’ and then I’ll come.”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked into the face of the girl, who never did seem +young and who had aged fearfully in the last few months. “Nonsense!” +he cried, and turned away.</p> + +<p>Philippina stamped the floor with her foot. Henry, the idiot, +came out into the hall, holding a lamp above his head.</p> + +<p>“Does the sanctimonious clerk still live here?” asked Daniel, +looking up at the crooked old stairway, while a flood of memories +came rushing over him.</p> + +<p>“Thank God, no!” snarled Philippina. “He’d be the last +straw. I feel sick at the stomach when I see a man.”</p> + +<p>Daniel again looked into her detestable, ugly, distorted, and +wicked face. He was accustomed to question everything, eyes and +bodies, about their existence in terms of tones, or their transformation +into tones. Here he suddenly felt the toneless; he had +the feeling one might have on looking at a deep-sea fish: it is lifeless, +toneless. He thought of his Eva; he longed for his Eva. +Just then Agnes came out of the door to look for Philippina.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span></p><p>He laid his hand on Agnes’s hair, and said good-naturedly, +looking at Philippina: “Well, then—d-e-a-r Philippina, come back +home!”</p> + +<p>Agnes jerked herself away from him; he looked at the child +amazed; he was angry, too. Philippina folded her hands, bowed +her head, and murmured with much humility: “Very well, Daniel, +we’ll be back to-morrow.”</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Philippina arrived at the front door at ten o’clock in the morning. +In one hand she carried her bundle; by the other she led +Agnes, then studying her <i>milieu</i> with uneasy eyes.</p> + +<p>Dorothea opened the door. She was neatly and tastefully +dressed: she wore a blue gingham dress and a white apron with a +lace border. Around her neck was a gold chain, and suspended +from the chain a medallion.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the children!” she cried cheerfully, “Philippina and Agnes. +What do you think of that! God bless you, children. You are +home at last.” She wanted to hug Agnes, but the child pulled +away from her as timidly as she had pulled away from her father +yesterday. In either case, she pulled away!</p> + +<p>Philippina screwed her mouth into a knot on hearing a woman +ten years her junior call her a child; she looked at Dorothea from +head to foot.</p> + +<p>Dorothea scarcely noticed her. “Just imagine, Philippin’, the +cook didn’t come to-day, so I thought I would try my own hand,” +said Dorothea with glib gravity, “but I don’t know, the soup meat +is still as hard as a rock. Won’t you come and see what’s the +matter?” She took Philippina into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you’ve got to have a lid on the pot, and what’s more, +that ain’t a regular fire,” remarked Philippina superciliously.</p> + +<p>Dorothea had already turned to something else. She had found +a glass of preserved fruit, had opened it, taken a long-handled +spoon, dived into it, put the spoon to her mouth, and was licking +away for dear life. “Tastes good,” she said, “tastes like lemon. +Try it, Philippin’.” She held the spoon to Philippina’s lips so that +she could try it. Philippina thrust the spoon rudely to one side.</p> + +<p>“No, no, you have got to try it. I insist. Taste it!” continued +Dorothea, and poked the spoon tightly against Philippina’s lips. +“I insist, I insist,” she repeated, half beseechingly, half in the +tone of a command, so that Philippina, who somehow or other +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span>could not find her veteran power of resistance, and in order to +have peace, let the spoon be shoved into her mouth.</p> + +<p>Just then old Jordan came out into the hall, and with him the +chimney-sweeper who wished to clean the chimney.</p> + +<p>“Herr Inspector, Herr Inspector,” cried Dorothea, laughing; +and when the old man followed her call, she gave him a spoonful, +too. The chimney-sweep likewise; he had to have his. And last +but not least came Agnes.</p> + +<p>They all laughed; a faint smile even ventured across Agnes’s +pale face, while Daniel, frightened from his room by the hubbub, +came out and stood in the kitchen door and laughed with the rest.</p> + +<p>“Do you see, Daniel, do you see? They all eat out of my +hand,” said Dorothea contentedly. “They all eat out of my hand. +That’s the way I like to have things. To your health, folks!”</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>One afternoon Dorothea, with an open letter in her hand, came +rushing into Daniel’s room, where he was working.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Daniel, Frau Feistelmann invites me over to a party at +her house to-morrow. May I go?”</p> + +<p>“You are disturbing me, my dear. Can’t you see you are upsetting +me?” asked Daniel reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see,” breathed Dorothea, and looked helplessly at the stack +of scores that lay on the top of the table. “I am to take my +violin along and play a piece or two for the people.”</p> + +<p>Daniel gazed into space without being able to comprehend her +remarks. He was composing.</p> + +<p>Dorothea lost her patience. She stepped up to the place on the +wall where the mask of Zingarella had been hanging since his +return home. “Daniel, I have been wanting for some time to ask +you what that thing is. Why do you keep it there? What’s it +for? It annoys me with its everlasting grin.”</p> + +<p>Daniel woke up. “That is what you call a grin?” he asked, shaking +his head; “Is it possible? That smile from the world beyond +appeals to you as a grin?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Dorothea defiantly, “the thing is grinning. And +I don’t like it; I can’t stand that silly face; I don’t like it simply +because you do like it so much. In fact, you seem to like it better +than you do me.”</p> + +<p>“No childishness, Dorothea!” said Daniel quietly. “You must +get your mind on higher things; and you must respect my spirits.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span></p><p>Dorothea became silent. She did not understand him. She +looked at him with a touch of distrust. She thought the mask +was a picture of one of his old sweethearts. She made a mouth.</p> + +<p>“You said something about playing at the party, Dorothea,” +continued Daniel. “Do you realise that I never heard you play? +I will frankly confess to you that heretofore I have been afraid to +hear you. I could tolerate only the excellent; or the promise of +excellence. You may show both; and yet, what is the cause of +my fear? You have not practised in a long while; not once since +we have been living together. And yet you wish to play in +public? That is strange, Dorothea. Be so good as to get your +violin and play a piece for me, won’t you?”</p> + +<p>Dorothea went into the next room, got her violin case, came +out, took the violin, and began to rub the bow with rosin. As +she was tuning the A string, she lifted her eyebrows and said: “Do +you really want me to play?”</p> + +<p>She bit her lips and played an <i>étude</i> by Fiorillo. Having finished +it but not having drawn a word of comment from Daniel, +she again took up the violin and played a rather lamentable selection +by Wieniawski.</p> + +<p>Daniel maintained his silence for a long while. “Pretty good, +Dorothea,” he said at last. “You have, other things being equal, +a very pleasant pastime there.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” asked Dorothea with noticeable rapidity, +a heavy blush colouring her cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Is it anything more than that, Dorothea?”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” she repeated, embarrassed and indignant. +“I should think that my violin is more than a pastime.”</p> + +<p>Daniel got up, walked over to her, took the bow gently from her +hands, seized it by both ends, and broke it in two.</p> + +<p>Dorothea screamed, and looked at him in hopeless consternation.</p> + +<p>With great earnestness Daniel replied: “If the music I hear is +not of unique superiority, it sounds in my ears like something +that has been hashed over a thousand times. My wife must consider +herself quite above a reasonably melodious dilettantism.”</p> + +<p>Tears rushed to Dorothea’s eyes. Again she was unable to grasp +the meaning of it all. She even imagined that Daniel was making +a conscious effort to be cruel to her.</p> + +<p>For her violin playing had been a means of pleasing—pleasing +herself, the world. It had been a means of rising in the world, +of compelling admiration in others and blinding others. This was +the only consideration that made her submit to the stern discipline +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span>her father imposed upon her. She possessed ambition, but she +sold herself to praise without regard for the praiser. And whatever +an agreement of unknown origin demanded in the way of feeling, +she fancied she could satisfy it by keeping her mind on her own +wishes, pleasures, and delights while playing.</p> + +<p>Daniel put his arms around her and kissed her. She broke away +from him in petulance, and went over to the window. “You +might have told me that I do not play well enough for you,” she +exclaimed angrily and sobbed; “there was no need for you to break +my bow. I never play. It never occurred to me to bother you +by playing.” She wept like a spoiled child.</p> + +<p>It cost Daniel a good deal of persuasion to pacify her. Finally +he saw that there was no use to talk to her; he sighed and said +nothing more. After a while he took her pocket handkerchief, +and dried the tears from her eyes, laughing as he did so. “What +was really in my mind was that party at Frau Feistelmann’s. I did +not want you to go. For I do not put much faith in that kind of +entertainment. They do not enrich you, though they do incite all +kinds of desires. But because I have treated you harshly, you may +go. Possibly it will make you forget your troubles, you little +fool.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I thank you for your offer; but I don’t want to go,” +replied Dorothea snappishly, and left the room.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Yet Dorothea said the next day at the dinner table that she was +going to accept the invitation. It would be much easier just to go +and have it over with, she remarked, than to stay away and explain +her absence. She said this in a way that would lead you to believe +that it had cost her much effort to come to her decision.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, go!” said Daniel. “I have already advised you to do +it myself.”</p> + +<p>She had had a dark blue velvet dress made, and she wanted to +wear it for the first time on this occasion.</p> + +<p>Toward five o’clock Daniel went to his bedroom. He saw +Dorothea standing before the mirror in her new dress. It was a +tall, narrow mirror on a console. Dorothea had received it from +her father as a wedding present.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter with her?” thought Daniel, on noticing +her complete lack of excitement. She was as if lost in the reflection +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span>of herself in the mirror. There was something rigid, drawn, +transported about her eyes. She did not see that Daniel was standing +in the room. When she raised her arm and turned her head, +it was to enjoy these gestures in the mirror.</p> + +<p>“Dorothea!” said Daniel gently.</p> + +<p>She started, looked at him thoughtfully, and smiled a heady +smile.</p> + +<p>Daniel was anxious, apprehensive.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>“I am related to Daniel, and we must address each other by the +familiar <i>Du</i>,” said Philippina to Dorothea. Daniel’s wife agreed.</p> + +<p>Every morning when Dorothea came into the kitchen Philippina +would say: “Well, what did you dream?”</p> + +<p>“I dreamt I was at the station and it was wartime, and some +gipsies came along and carried me off,” said Dorothea on one +occasion.</p> + +<p>“Station means an unexpected visit; war means discord with +various personalities; and gipsies mean that you are going to have +to do with some flippant people.” All this Philippina rattled off in +the High German of her secret code.</p> + +<p>Philippina was also an adept in geomancy. Dorothea would +often sit by her side, and ask her whether this fellow or that fellow +were in love with her, whether this girl loved that fellow and +the other girl another, and so on through the whole table of local +infatuations. Philippina would make a number of dots on a sheet +of paper, fill in the numbers, hold the list up to the light, and +divulge the answer of the oracle.</p> + +<p>In a very short while the two were one heart, one soul. Dorothea +could always count on Philippina’s laughter of approval when +she fell into one of her moods of excessive friskiness. And if +Agnes failed to show the proper amount of interest, Philippina +would poke her in the ribs and exclaim: “You little rascallion, has +the cat got your tongue?”</p> + +<p>Agnes would then sneak off in mournful silence to her school +books, and sit for hours over the simplest kind of a problem in the +whole arithmetic. Dorothea would occasionally bring her a piece +of taffy. She would wrap it up, put it in her pocket, and give it +the next day to a schoolmate from whose note book she had copied +her sums in subtraction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span></p><p>Herr Seelenfromm stopped Philippina on the street, and said to +her: “Well, how are you getting along? How is the young wife +making out?”</p> + +<p>“Oi, oi, we’re living on the fat of the land, I say,” Philippina +replied, stretching her mouth from ear to ear. “Chicken every +day, cake too, wine always on hand, and one guest merely opens +the door on another.”</p> + +<p>“Nothafft must have made a pile of money,” remarked Herr +Seelenfromm in amazement.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he must. Nobody works at our house. The wife’s pocket-book +at least is always crammed.”</p> + +<p>The sky was blue, the sun was bright, spring had come.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein always took Sunday dinner with his children. +He loved a juicy leg of pork, a salad garnished with greens and +eggs, and a tart drowned in sugar. Old Jordan, who was privileged +to sit at the table, let the individual morsels dissolve on his tongue. +He had never had such delicacies placed before him in his life. +At times he would cast a glance of utter astonishment at Daniel.</p> + +<p>He very rarely took part in the conversation. As soon as the +dishes had been removed, he would get up and quietly go to his +room.</p> + +<p>“A very remarkable old man,” said Andreas Döderlein one Sunday, +as he sat tipped back on his chair, picking his teeth.</p> + +<p>“Ah, we have our troubles with him,” said Dorothea abusively, +“he is an incorrigible pot-watcher. He comes to the kitchen ten +times a day, sticks his nose up in the air, asks what we are going +to have for dinner, and then goes out and stands in the hall, with +the result that our guests come and stumble over him.”</p> + +<p>Andreas Döderlein emitted a growl of lament.</p> + +<p>“How are your finances, my son?” he asked, turning to Daniel +with an air of marked affability. “Would you not like to bolster +up your income by taking a position in the conservatory? You +would have time for it; your work as organist at St. Ægydius does +not take up all your time. Herold is going to be retired, you +know. He is seventy-five and no longer able to meet the requirements. +All that we will have to do will be for me to give you +my backing. Three thousand marks a year, allocation to your +widow after ten years of service, extra fees—I should think you +would regard that as a most enticing offer. Or don’t you?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span></p><p>Dorothea ran up to her father in a spirit of unrestrained jubilation, +threw her arms around his bulky body, and kissed him on his +flabby cheek.</p> + +<p>“No thanks to me, my child,” said the Olympian; “to stand +by you two is of course my duty.”</p> + +<p>“What sort of a swollen stranger is that, anyhow?” thought +Daniel to himself. “What does he want of me? Why does he +come into my house and sit down at my table? Why is he so +familiar with me? Why does he blow his breath on me?” Daniel +was silent.</p> + +<p>“I understand, my dear son, that you would abandon your +leisure hours only with the greatest reluctance,” continued Döderlein +with concealed sarcasm, “but after all, who can live precisely +as he would like to live? Who can follow his own inclinations +entirely? The everyday feature of human existence is powerful. +Icarus must fall to the earth. With your wife anticipating a +happy event, you cannot, of course, hesitate in the face of such +an offer.”</p> + +<p>Daniel cast an angry look at Dorothea.</p> + +<p>“I will think it over,” said Daniel, got up, and left the room.</p> + +<p>“It is unpleasant for him,” complained Dorothea; “he values his +leisure above everything else in the world. But I will do all in +my power to bring him around, Father. And you keep at him. +He will resist and object. I know him.”</p> + +<p>Thus it was brought to light that Daniel was no longer a mysterious +and unfathomable individual in her estimation. She had +found him out; she had divined him, in her way to be sure. He +was much simpler than she had imagined, and at times she was +really a bit angry at him for not arousing her curiosity more than +he did. What she had fancied as highly interesting, thrilling, +intoxicating, had proved to be quite simple and ordinary. The +charm was gone, never to return. Her sole diversion lay in her +attempts to get complete control over him through the skilful +manipulation of her senses and her priceless youth.</p> + +<p>Daniel felt that she was disappointed; he had been afraid of this +all along. His anxiety increased with time, for it was evident +that everything he said or did disappointed her. His anxiety +caused him to be indulgent, where he had formerly been unbending. +The difference in their ages made him patient and tractable. +He feared he could not show her the love that she in her freshness +and natural, unconsumed robustness desired. On this account +he denied himself many things which he formerly could not have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span>got along without, and put up with, many things that would have +been intolerable to him as a younger man.</p> + +<p>It needed only a single hour at night to make him promise to +accept the position old Herold was leaving. He, as parsimonious +with words as in the expression of feelings, succumbed to her cat-like +cuddling. He capitulated in the face of her unpitying ridicule, +and surrendered all to the prurient agility of a young body. +Dark powers there are that set up dependencies between man and +woman. When they rule, things do not work out in accordance +with set calculation or inborn character. It takes but a single hour +of the night to bend the most sacred truth of life into a lie.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>In the course of time Daniel had to provide for an increase in +his annual salary. Dorothea had made a great many innovations +that cost money. She had bought a dressing table, a number of +cabinets, and a bath tub. The lamps, dishes, bed covers, and +curtains she found old-fashioned, and simply went out and bought +new ones.</p> + +<p>Nothing gave her greater pleasure than to go shopping. Then +the bills came in, and Daniel shook his head. He begged her to +be more saving, but she would fall on his neck, and beseech and +beseech until he acceded to every single one of her wishes.</p> + +<p>She rarely came home with empty hands. It may have been +only little things that she bought, a manikin of porcelain with a +tile hat and an umbrella, or a pagoda with a wag-head, or even +merely a mouse-trap—but they all cost money.</p> + +<p>Philippina would be called in; Philippina was to admire the +purchases. And she would say with apparent delight: “Now ain’t +that sweet!” Or, “Now that’s fine; we needed a mouse-trap so +bad! There was a mouse on the clothes rack just yesterday, cross +my heart, Daniel.”</p> + +<p>As to hats, dresses, stockings, shoes, laces, and blouses—when it +came to these Dorothea was a stranger to such concepts as measure +or modesty. She wanted to compete with the wives of the rich +people whose parties she attended, and next to whom she sat in +the pastry shop or at the theatre.</p> + +<p>She was given free tickets to the theatre and the concerts. But +once when she had told Daniel that the director had sent her a +ticket, he learned from Philippina that she had bought the ticket +and paid for it with her own money. He did not call her to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span>account, but he could not get the thought out of his mind that she +had believed she had deceived him.</p> + +<p>He did not accompany her on her pleasure jaunts; he wanted to +work and not double even the smallest expenditure by going with +her. Dorothea had become accustomed to this. She looked upon +his apathy toward the theatre and his dislike of social distractions +as a caprice, a crotchet on his part. She never considered what +he had gone through in the way of theatricals and concerts; she +had completely forgotten what he had confessed to her in a decisive +hour.</p> + +<p>When she came home late in the evening with burning cheeks +and glowing eyes, Daniel did not have the courage to give her +the advice he felt she so sorely needed. “Why snatch her from +her heaven?” he thought. “She will become demure and quiet in +time; her wild lust for pleasure will fade and disappear.”</p> + +<p>He was afraid of her pouting mien, her tears, her perplexed +looks, her defiant running about. But he lacked the words to +express himself. He knew how ineffectual warning and reproach +might be and were. Empty talking back and forth he could not +stand, while if he made a really human remark it found no response. +She did not appreciate what he said; she misunderstood, +misinterpreted everything. She laughed, shrugged her shoulders, +pouted, called him an old grouch, or cooed like a dove. She did +not look at him with real eyes; there was no flow of soul in what +she did.</p> + +<p>Gloom filled his heart.</p> + +<p>The waste in the household affairs became worse and worse from +week to week. Daniel would have felt like a corner grocer if he +had never let her know how much he had saved, or had given her +less than she asked for. And so his money was soon all gone. +Dorothea troubled herself very little about the economic side of +their married life. She told Philippina what to do, and fell into +a rage if her orders were not promptly obeyed.</p> + +<p>“It’s too dull for her here. My God, such a young woman!” +said Philippina to Daniel with simulated regret. “She wants to +have a good time; she wants to enjoy her life. And you can’t +blame her.”</p> + +<p>Philippina was the mistress of the house. She went to the +market, paid the bills, superintended the cook and the washwoman, +and rejoiced with exceeding great and fiendish joy when she saw +how rapidly everything was going downhill, downhill irresistibly +and as sure as your life.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span></p><h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>As the time approached for Dorothea’s confinement she very +rarely left the house. She would lie in bed until about eleven +o’clock, when she would get up, dress, comb her hair, go through +her wardrobe, and write letters.</p> + +<p>She carried on a most elaborate correspondence; those who +received her letters praised her amusing style.</p> + +<p>After luncheon she would go back to bed; and late in the afternoon +her visitors came in, not merely women but all sorts of young +men. It often happened that Daniel did not even know the names +of the people. He would withdraw to the room Eleanore had +formerly occupied, and from which he could hear laughter and +loud talk resounding through the hall.</p> + +<p>By evening Dorothea was tired. She would sit in the rocking +chair and read the newspaper, or the <i>Wiener Mode</i>, generally not +in the best of humour.</p> + +<p>Daniel confidently believed that all this would change for the +better as soon as the child had been born; he believed that the +feeling of a mother and the duties of a mother would have a +broadening and subduing effect on her.</p> + +<p>Late in the autumn Dorothea gave birth to a boy, who was +baptised Gottfried. She could not do enough by way of showing +her affection for the child; her transports were expressed in the +most childish terms; her display of tenderness was almost excessive.</p> + +<p>For six days she nursed the child herself. Then the novelty +wore off, friends told her it would ruin her shape to keep it up, +and she quit. “It makes you stout,” she said to Philippina, “and +cow’s milk is just as good, if not better.”</p> + +<p>Philippina opened her mouth and eyes as wide as she could when +she saw Dorothea standing before the mirror, stripped to the hips, +studying the symmetry of her body with a seriousness that no one +had ever noticed in her before.</p> + +<p>Dorothea became coldly indifferent toward her child; it seemed +that she had entirely forgotten that she was a mother. The baby +slept in the room with Philippina and Agnes, both of whom cared +for it. Its mother was otherwise engaged.</p> + +<p>As if to make up for lost time and to indemnify herself for the +suffering and general inconvenience to which she had been put in +the last few months, Dorothea rushed with mad greediness into +new pleasures and strange diversions. Soon however she found +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span>herself embarrassed from a lack of funds. Daniel told her, kindly +but firmly, that the salaries he was drawing as organist and teacher +were just barely enough to keep the house going, and that he was +curtailing his own personal needs as much as possible so that there +would be no cause to discontinue or diminish the home comforts +they had latterly been enjoying. “We are not peasants,” he said, +“and that we are not living from the mercy of chance is a flaw +in me rather than in my favour.”</p> + +<p>“You old pinch-penny!” said Dorothea. Ugly wrinkles appeared +on her brow. “If you had not made me disgusted with my +art, I might have been able to make a little money too,” she added.</p> + +<p>He looked down at the floor in complete silence. She however +began thinking about ways and means of getting her hands on +money. “Uncle Carovius might help me,” she thought. She took +to visiting her father more frequently, and every time she came +she would stand out in the hall for a while hoping to see Herr +Carovius. One day he appeared. She wanted to speak to him, +smile at him, win him over. But one look from that face, filled +with petrified and ineradicable rage, showed her that any attempt +to approach the old man and get him in a friendly frame of mind +would be fruitless.</p> + +<p>On the way home she chanced to meet the actor Edmund Hahn. +She had not seen him since she had been married. The actor +seemed tremendously pleased to see her. They walked along together, +engaged in a zealous conversation, talking at first loudly +and then gently.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>The day Dorothea got married, Herr Carovius had gone to his +lawyer to have the will he had drawn up the night before attested +to. He had bequeathed his entire fortune, including his home +and the furniture, to an institution to be erected after his death for +the benefit of orphans of noble birth. Baron Eberhard von +Auffenberg had been named as first director of the institution and +sole executor of his will.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius refused to have anything more to do with music. +He had a leather cover made for his long, narrow grand piano, +and enshrouded in this, the instrument resembled a stuffed animal. +He looked back on his passion for music as one of the aberrations +of his youth, though he realised that he was chastising his spirit +till it hurt when he took this attitude.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span></p><p>The method he employed to keep from having nothing to do was +characteristic of the man: he went through all the books of his +library looking for typographical errors. He spent hours every +day at this work; he read the scientific treatises and the volumes of +pure literature with his attention fixed on individual letters. When, +after infinite search, he discovered a word that had been misspelled, +or a grammatical slip, he felt like a fisherman who, after +waiting long and patiently, finally sees a fish dangling on the hook.</p> + +<p>Otherwise he was thoroughly unhappy. The beautiful evenness +of his hair on the back of his neck had been transformed into a +shaggy wilderness. He could be seen going along the street in a +suit of clothes that was peppered with spots, while his Calabrian +hat resembled a war tent that has gone through a number of major +offensives.</p> + +<p>He had again taken to frequenting the Paradise Café two or +three times a week, not exactly to surrender himself to mournful +memories, but because the coffee there cost twenty pfennigs, +whereas the more modern cafés were charging twenty-five. His +dinner consisted of a pot of coffee and a few rolls.</p> + +<p>It came about that old Jordan likewise began to frequent the +Paradise. For a long while the two men would go there, sit down +at their chosen tables, and study each other at a distance. Finally +the day came when they sat down together; then it became a +custom for them to take their places at the same table, one back +in the corner by the stove, where a quiet comradeship developed +between them. It was rare that their conversation went beyond +external platitudes.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius acted as though he were merely enduring old +Jordan. But he never really became absorbed in his newspaper +until the old man had come and sat down at the table with him, +greeting him with marked respect as he did so. Jordan, however, +did not conceal his delight when, on entering the café and casting +his eyes around the room, they at last fell on Herr Carovius. +While he sipped his coffee, he never took them off the wicked +face of his <i>vis-à-vis</i>.</p> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>Philippina became Dorothea’s confidential friend.</p> + +<p>At first it was nothing more than Dorothea’s desire to gossip that +drew her to Philippina. Later she fell into the habit of telling +her everything she knew. She felt no need of keeping any secret +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span>from Philippina, the inexplicable. The calm attentiveness with +which Philippina listened to her flattered her, and left her without +a vestige of suspicion. She felt that Philippina was too stupid +and uncultivated to view her activities in perspective or pass judgment +on them.</p> + +<p>She liked to conjure up seductive pictures before the old maid’s +imagination; for she loved to hear Philippina abuse the male of the +species. If some bold plan were maturing in her mind, she would +tell Philippina about it just as if it had already been executed. +In this way she tested the possibility of really carrying out her +designs, and procured for herself a foretaste of what was to follow.</p> + +<p>It was chiefly Philippina’s utter ugliness that made her trust her. +Such a homely creature was in her eyes not a woman, hardly a +human being of either sex; and with her she felt she could talk +just as much as she pleased, and say anything that came into her +head. And since Philippina never spoke of Daniel in any but a +derogatory and spiteful tone, Dorothea felt perfectly safe on that +ground.</p> + +<p>She would come into the kitchen, and sit down on a bench and +talk: about a silk dress she had seen for sale; about the fine compliments +Court Councillor Finkeldey had paid her; about the love +affairs of these and the divorce proceedings of those; about Frau +Feistelmann’s pearls, remarking that she would give ten years of +her life if she also had such pearls. In fact, the word she used +most frequently was “also.” She trembled and shook from head to +foot with desires and wishes, low-minded unrest and lusts that +flourish in the dark.</p> + +<p>Often she would tell stories of her life in Munich. She told +how she once spent a night with an artist in his studio, just for +fun; and how on another occasion she had gone with an officer to +the barracks at night simply on a wager. She told of all the +fine-looking men who ran after her, and how she dropped them +whenever she felt like it. She said she would let them kiss her +sometimes, but that was all; or she would walk arm in arm with +them through the forest, but that was all. She commented on the +fact that in Munich you had to keep an eye out for the police and +observe their hours, otherwise there might be trouble. For example, +a swarthy Italian kept following her once—he was a regular +Conte—and she couldn’t make the man go on about his business, and +you know he rushed into her room and held a revolver before her +face, and she screamed, of course she did, until the whole house +was awake, and there was an awful excitement.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span></p><p>When Daniel endeavoured to put a stop to her wastefulness, she +went to Philippina and complained. Philippina encouraged her. +“Don’t you let him get away with anything,” said she, “let him +feel that a woman with your beauty didn’t have to marry a skinflint.”</p> + +<p>When she began to go with Edmund Hahn, she told Philippina +all about it. “You ought to see him, Philippina,” she whispered in +a mysterious way. “He is a regular Don Juan; he can turn the head +of any woman.” She said he had been madly in love with her for +two years, and now he was going to gamble for her; but in a very +aristocratic and exclusive club, to which none but the nicest people +belonged. “If I win, Philippina, I am going to make you a lovely +present,” she said.</p> + +<p>From then on her conversation became rather tangled and incoherent. +She was out a great deal, and when she returned she was +always in a rather uncertain condition. She had Philippina put +up her hair, and every word she spoke during the operation was +a lie. One time she confessed that she had not been in the theatre, +as Daniel had supposed, but at the house of a certain Frau Bäumler, +a good friend of Edmund Hahn. They had been gambling: she +had won sixty marks. She looked at the door as if in fear, took out +her purse, and showed Philippina three gold pieces.</p> + +<p>Philippina had to swear that she would not give Dorothea away. +A few days later Dorothea got into another party and got out of it +successfully, and Philippina had to renew her oath. The old maid +could take an oath with an ease and glibness such as she might +have displayed in saying good morning. In the bottom of her heart +she never failed to grant herself absolution for the perjury she was +committing. For the time being she wished to collect, take notes, +follow the game wherever it went. Moreover, it tickled and +satisfied her senses to think about relations and situations which she +knew full well she could never herself experience.</p> + +<p>Dorothea became more and more ensnared. Her eyes looked +like will-o’-the-wisps, her laugh was jerky and convulsive. She +never had time, either for her husband or her child. She would +receive letters occasionally that she would read with greedy haste +and then tear into shreds. Philippina came into her room once +quite suddenly; Dorothea, terrified, hid a photograph she had been +holding in her hand. When Philippina became indignant at the +secrecy of her action, she said with an air of inoffensive superiority: +“You would not understand it, Philippina. That is something I +cannot discuss with any one.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span></p><p>But Philippina’s vexation worried her: she showed her the photograph. +It was the picture of a young man with a cold, crusty face. +Dorothea said it was an American whom she had met at Frau +Bäumler’s. He was said to be very rich and alone.</p> + +<p>Every evening Philippina wanted to know something about the +American. “Tell me about the American,” she would say.</p> + +<p>One evening, quite late, Dorothea came into Philippina’s room +with nothing on but her night-gown. Agnes and little Gottfried +were asleep. “The American has a box at the theatre to-morrow +evening. If you call for me you can see him,” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“I am bursting with curiosity,” replied Philippina.</p> + +<p>For a while Dorothea sat in perfect silence, and then exclaimed: +“If I only had money, Philippin’, if I only had money!”</p> + +<p>“I thought the American had piles of it,” replied Philippina.</p> + +<p>“Of course he has money, lots of it,” said Dorothea, and her +eyes flashed, “but—”</p> + +<p>“But? What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Do you think men do things without being compensated?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s it,” said Philippina reflectively, “that’s it.” She +crouched on a hassock at Dorothea’s feet. “How pretty you are, +how sweet,” she said in her bass voice: “God, what pretty little +feet you have! And what smooth white skin! Marble’s got +nothing on you.” And with the carnal concupiscence of a faun in +woman’s form she took Dorothea’s leg in her hand and stroked the +skin as far as the knee.</p> + +<p>Dorothea shuddered. As she looked down at the cowering +Philippina, she noticed that there was a button missing on her +blouse. Through the opening, just between her breasts, she saw +something brown. “What is that on your body there?” asked +Dorothea.</p> + +<p>Philippina blushed. “Nothing for you,” she replied in a rough +tone, and held her hand over the opening in her blouse.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Philippina, tell me,” begged Dorothea, who could not +stand the thought of any one keeping a secret from her: “Possibly +it is your dowry. Possibly you have made a savings bank out of +your bosom?” She laughed lustily.</p> + +<p>Philippina got up: “Yes, it is my money,” she confessed with +reluctance, and looked at Dorothea hostilely.</p> + +<p>“It must be a whole lot. Look out, or some one will steal it +from you. You will have to sleep on your stomach.”</p> + +<p>Daniel came down from his study, and heard Dorothea laughing. +Grief was gnawing at his heart; he passed hastily by the door.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span></p><h3>XI</h3> + +<p>One evening, as Philippina came into the hall from the street, +she saw a man coming up to her in the dark; he called her by +name. She thought she recognised his voice, and on looking at him +more closely saw that it was her father.</p> + +<p>She had not spoken to him for ten years. She had seen him +from time to time at a distance, but she had always made it a point +to be going in another direction as soon as she saw him; she +avoided him, absolutely.</p> + +<p>“What’s the news?” she asked in a friendly tone.</p> + +<p>Jason Philip cleared his throat, and tried to get out of the light +in the hall and back into the shadow: he wished to conceal his +shabby clothes from his daughter.</p> + +<p>“Now, listen,” he began with affected naturalness, “you might +inquire about your parents once in a while. The few steps over to +our house wouldn’t make you break your legs. Honour thy father +and thy mother, you know. Your mother deserves any kindness you +can show her. As for me, well, I have dressed you down at times, +but only when you needed it. You were a mischievous monkey, +and you know it.”</p> + +<p>He laughed; but there was the fire of fear in his eyes. Philippina +was the embodiment of silence.</p> + +<p>“As I was saying,” Jason Philip continued hastily, as if to +prevent any inimical memories of his daughter from coming to his +mind, “you might pay a little attention to your parents once in a +while: Can’t you lend me ten marks? I have got to meet a bill +to-morrow morning, and I haven’t got a pfennig. The boys, you +know, I mean your brothers, are conducting themselves splendidly. +They give me something the first of each month, and they do it +regularly. But I don’t like to go to them about this piddling +business to-morrow. I thought that as you were right here in the +neighbourhood, I could come over and see you about it.”</p> + +<p>Jason Philip was lying. His sons gave him no help whatsoever. +Willibald was living in Breslau, where he had a poorly paid position +as a bookkeeper and was just barely making ends meet. Markus +was good for nothing, and head over heels in debt.</p> + +<p>Philippina thought the matter over for a moment, and then told +her father to wait. She went upstairs. Jason Philip waited at the +door, whistling softly. Many years had passed by since he first +attacked the civil powers, urged on by a rebellion of noble thoughts +in his soul. Many years had passed by since he had made his peace +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span>with these same civil powers. Nevertheless, he continued to whistle +the “Marseillaise.”</p> + +<p>Philippina came waddling down the steps, dragged herself over +to the door, and gave her father a five-mark piece. “There,” she +bellowed, “I haven’t any more myself.”</p> + +<p>But Jason Philip was satisfied with half the amount he had asked +for. He was now equipped for an onslaught on the nearest café +with its corned beef, sausages, and new beer.</p> + +<p>From this time on he came around to the house on Ægydius +Place quite frequently. He would stand in the hall, look around +for Philippina, and if he found her, beg her for money. The +amounts Philippina gave him became smaller and smaller. Finally +she took to giving him ten pfennigs when he came.</p> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<p>It frequently happened that Daniel would not answer when any +one asked him a question. His ear lost the words, his eye the +pictures, signs, faces, gestures. He was in his own way; he was +a torment to himself.</p> + +<p>Something drew him there and then here. He would leave the +house, and then be taken with a longing to return. He noticed +that people were laughing at him; laughing at him behind his +back. He read mockery in the eyes of his pupils; the maids in the +house tittered when he passed by.</p> + +<p>What did they know? What were they concealing? Perhaps +his soul could have told what they knew and what they concealed; +but he was unwilling to drag it all out into the realm of known, +nameable things.</p> + +<p>As if an invisible slanderer were at his side, unwilling to leave +him, leave him in peace, his despair increased. “What have you +done, Daniel!” a voice within him cried, “what have you done!” +The shades of the sisters, arm in arm, arose before him.</p> + +<p>The feeling of having made a mistake, a mistake that could +never be rectified, burned like fire within him. His work, so +nearly completed, had suddenly died away.</p> + +<p>For the sake of his symphony, he forced himself into a quiet +frame of mind at night, made room for faint-hearted hopes, and +lulled his presentient soul into peace.</p> + +<p>The thing that troubled him worst of all was the way Philippina +looked at him.</p> + +<p>Since the birth of the child he had been living in Eleanore’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span>room. Old Jordan was consideration itself: he went around in +his stocking feet so as not to disturb him.</p> + +<p>One night Daniel took the candle, and went downstairs to +Dorothea’s room. She woke up, screamed, looked at him bewildered, +recognised him, became indignant, and then laughed mockingly +and sensually.</p> + +<p>He sat down on the side of her bed, and took her right hand +between his two. But he had a disagreeable sensation on feeling +her hand in his, and looked at her fingers. They were not +finely formed: they were thicker at the ends than in the middle; +they could not remain quiet; they twitched constantly.</p> + +<p>“This can’t keep up, Dorothea,” he said in a kindly tone, “you +are ruining your own life and mine too. Why do you have all +these people around you? Is the pleasure you derive from associating +with them so great that it benumbs your conscience? I +have no idea what you are doing. Tell me about it. The household +affairs are in a wretched condition; everything is in disorder. +And that cigar smoke out in the living room! I opened +a window. And your child! It has no mother. Look at its little +face, and see how pale and sickly it looks!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t help it; Philippina puts poppy in the milk so +that it will sleep longer,” Dorothea answered, after the fashion +of guilty women: of the various reproaches Daniel had cast at her, +she seized upon the one of which she felt the least guilty. But +after this, Daniel had no more to say.</p> + +<p>“I am so tired and sleepy,” said Dorothea, and again blinked at +him out of one corner of her eye with that mocking, sensual look. +As he showed no inclination to leave, she yawned, and continued +in an angry tone: “Why do you wake a person up in the middle of +the night, if all you want is to scold them? Get out of here, you +loathsome thing!”</p> + +<p>She turned her back on him, and rested her head on her hand. +Opposite her bed was a mirror in a gold frame. She saw herself +in it; she was pleased with herself lying there in that offended +mood, and she smiled.</p> + +<p>Daniel, who had been so cruel to noble women now become +shades, saw how she smiled at herself, infatuated with herself: he +took pity on such child-like vanity.</p> + +<p>“There is a Chinese fairy tale about a Princess,” he said, and +bent down over Dorothea, “who received from her mother as a +wedding present a set of jewel boxes. There was a costly present +in each box, but the last, smallest, innermost one was locked, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span>the Princess had to promise that she would never open it. She +kept her promise for a while, but curiosity at last got the better +of her, she forgot her vow, and opened the last little box by force. +There was a mirror in it; and when she looked into it and saw how +beautiful she was, she began to abuse her husband. She tortured +him so that he killed her one day.”</p> + +<p>Dorothea looked at him terrified. Then she laughed and said: +“What a stupid story! Such a tale of horror!” She laid her +cheek on the pillow, and again looked in the mirror.</p> + +<p>The following morning Daniel received an anonymous letter. +It read as follows: “You will be guarding your own honour if you +keep a sharp lookout on your wife. A Well-wisher.”</p> + +<p>A cold fever came over him. For a few days he dragged his +body from room to room as if poisoned. He avoided every one in +the house. One night he again felt a desire to go down to Dorothea. +When he reached the door to her room, he found it bolted. +He knocked, but received no answer. He knocked again, this time +more vigorously. He heard her turn her head on the pillow. “Let +me sleep!” cried Dorothea angrily.</p> + +<p>“Open the door, Dorothea,” he begged.</p> + +<p>“No, I will not; I want to sleep.” These were the words that +reached his ear from behind the bolted door.</p> + +<p>He pressed three or four times on the latch, implored her +three or four times to let him come in, but received no answer. +He did not wish to make any more noise, looked straight ahead +as if into a dark hole, and then turned and went back to his room +in the attic.</p> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<p>Friedrich Benda was again in Europe. All the newspapers contained +accounts of the discoveries made on the expedition. Last +autumn Arab dealers in ivory had found him in the land of Niam-Niam, +taken an interest in him, and finally brought him, then +seemingly in the throes of imminent death, back to the Nile. In +England he was celebrated as a hero and a bold pioneer; the Royal +Geographical Society had made him an honorary member; and the +incidents of his journey were the talk of the day.</p> + +<p>Toward the close of April he came to Nuremberg to visit his +mother. The blind old woman had been carefully and cautiously +prepared for his coming. She nevertheless came very near dying +with joy; her life was in grave danger for a while.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span></p><p>Benda had not wished to stay more than a week: his business +and his work called him back to London; he had lectures to deliver, +and he had to see a book through the press, a book in which he had +given a description of the years spent in Africa.</p> + +<p>At the urgent request of his mother he had decided to stay +longer. Moreover, during the first days of his visit to Nuremberg, +he suffered from a severe attack of a fever he had brought with him +from the tropics, and this forced him to remain in bed. The +news of his presence in the city finally became generally known, +and he was annoyed by the curiosity of many people who had +formerly never concerned themselves about him in the slightest.</p> + +<p>He was eager to see Daniel; every hour of delay in meeting his +old friend was an hour of reproach. But his mother insisted that +he stay with her; he had to sit near her and tell of his experiences +in Africa.</p> + +<p>When he heard of the outer events in Daniel’s life he was filled +with terror. The fact that made the profoundest impression on +him was Daniel’s marriage to Dorothea Döderlein. People told +him a great many things about their life and how they were getting +along, and with each passing day he felt that it would be more +difficult to go to Daniel. One evening he got his courage together +and decided to go. He got as far as Ægydius Place, when he was +seized with such a feeling of sadness and discomfort at the thought +of all the changes that time and fate had made that he turned back. +He felt as if he might be deceived by a picture which would perhaps +still show the features of Daniel as he looked in former years, +but that he would be so changed inwardly that words would be +unable to bring the two together.</p> + +<p>He longed to talk with some one who loved Daniel and who had +followed his career with pure motives. He had to think for a long +while: where was there such a person? He thought of old Herold +and went to him. He directed the conversation without digression +to a point that was of prime importance to him. And in order to +put the old man in as confidential a frame of mind as possible, he +reminded him of a night when the three of them, Daniel, Herold, +and Benda, had sat in the Mohren Cellar drinking wine and discussing +things in general, important and unimportant, that have a +direct bearing on life.</p> + +<p>The old man nodded; he recalled the evening. He spoke of +Daniel’s genius with a modesty and a deference that made Benda’s +heart swell. He raised his finger, and said with a fine fire in his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span>eye: “I’ll stand good for him. I prophesy on the word of the +Bible: A star will rise from Jacob.”</p> + +<p>Then he spoke of Eleanore; he was passionately fond of her. +He told how she had brought him the quartette, and how she had +glowed with inspiration and the desire to help. He also had a good +deal to say about Gertrude, especially with regard to her mental +breakdown and her death.</p> + +<p>Benda left the old man at once quiet and disquieted. He +walked along the street for a long while, rapt in thought. When +he looked up he saw that he was standing before Daniel’s house. +He went in.</p> + + +<h3>XIV</h3> + +<p>Daniel knew that Benda had returned: Philippina had read it +in the newspaper and told him about it. Dorothea, who had +learned of his return from her father, had also spoken to him +about it. He had also heard other people speak of it.</p> + +<p>The first time he heard it he was startled. He felt he would +have to flee to his friend of former days. Then he was seized +with the same fear that had come over Benda: Is our relation to each +other the same? The thought of meeting Benda filled him with a +sense of shame, to which was added a touch of bitterness as day +after day passed by and Benda never called or wrote. “It is all +over,” he thought, “he has forgotten me.” He would have liked to +forget too; and he could have done it, for his mind was wandering, +restless, strayed.</p> + +<p>One evening as he crossed the square he noticed that the windows +of his house were all brilliantly lighted. He went to the +kitchen, where he found Agnes at the table seeding plums.</p> + +<p>“Who is here again?” he asked. One could hear laughter, loud +and boisterous, in the living room.</p> + +<p>Agnes, scarcely looking up, reeled off the names: Councillor +Finkeldey, Herr von Ginsterberg, Herr Samuelsky, Herr Hahn, a +strange man whose name she did not know, Frau Feistelmann and +her sister.</p> + +<p>Daniel remained silent for a while. Then he went up to +Agnes, put his hand under her chin, lifted her head, and murmured: +“And you? And you?”</p> + +<p>Agnes frowned, and was afraid to look into his face. Suddenly +she said: “To-day is the anniversary of mother’s death.” With +that she looked at him fixedly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span></p><p>“So?” said Daniel, sat down on the edge of the table, and +laid his head in his hand. Some one was playing the piano in the +living room. Since Daniel had taken the grand piano up to his +room, Dorothea had rented a small one. The rhythmical movement +of dancing couples could be heard quite distinctly.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to leave this place,” said Agnes, as she threw a worm-eaten +plum in the garbage can. “In Beckschlager Street there is a +seamstress who wants to teach me to sew.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you go?” asked Daniel. “It would be a very sensible +thing to do. But what will Philippina say about it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she doesn’t object, provided I spend my evenings and +Sundays with her.”</p> + +<p>The front door bell rang, and Agnes went out: there was some +one to see Daniel. He hesitated, started toward the door, shook +and stepped back, seized with trembling hand the kitchen lamp in +order to make certain that he was not mistaken, for it was dark, +but there could be no mistake. It was Benda.</p> + +<p>They looked at each other in violent agitation. Benda was the +first to reach out his hand; then Daniel reached out his. Something +seemed to snap within him. He became dizzy, his tall, stiff body +swung back and forth. Then he fell into the arms of his friend, +whom he had lived without for seventeen years.</p> + +<p>Benda was not prepared for such a scene; he was unable to +speak. Then Daniel tore himself loose from the embrace of his +old comrade, pushed the dishevelled hair back from his forehead, +and said hastily: “Come upstairs with me; no one will disturb us +up there.”</p> + +<p>Daniel lighted the lamp in his room, and then looked around to +see whether old Jordan was at home. Jordan’s room was dark. +He closed the door and took a seat opposite Benda. He was breathing +heavily.</p> + +<p>What meaning can be attached to the preliminary questions and +answers that invariably accompany such a meeting after such a long +separation? “How are you? How long are you going to stay in +town? You still have the same old habits of life? Tell me about +yourself.” What do such questions mean? They mean virtually +nothing. The protagonists thereby simply remove the rubbish from +the channels which have been choked up in the course of years, and +try to build new bridges carrying them over abysses that must be +crossed if the conversation is to be connected and coherent.</p> + +<p>Benda had grown somewhat stout. His face was brownish +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span>yellow, about the colour of leather. The deep wrinkles around his +forehead and mouth told of the hardships he had gone through. +His eye was completely changed: it had the strong, vivacious, and +yet quiet appearance of the eye of a hunter or a peasant.</p> + +<p>“You may well imagine that I have already told the story of my +adventures in Africa a hundred times and in the same way,” said +Benda. “It has all been written down, and will shortly appear in +book form, where you can read it. It was an unbroken chain of toil +and trouble. Frequently I was as close to death as I am to this wall. +I devoured enough quinine to fill a freight car, and yet it was +always the same old story, fever to-day, to-morrow, for six months +in the year. I have, I fear, ruined my health; I am afraid my +old heart will not last much longer. The eternal vigilance I was +obliged to exercise, the incessant fight for so simple a thing as a +path, or for more urgent things such as food and drink, has told +on me. I suffered terribly from the sun; also from the rain. I +had very few of the comforts of life; I was often forced to sleep +on the ground. And there was no one to talk to, no sense of +security.”</p> + +<p>“And yet,” he continued, “I had my reward. When I look +back on it all, there is not an hour that I would care to have wiped +from my memory. I accomplished a great deal. I made some important +discoveries, brought back enough work to keep me busy for +years to come, thirty-six boxes of plant preparations, and this despite +the fact that the entire fruit of my first seven years of effort was +burned in a tent near Nembos. But apart from what I have actually +done, there is something so real and solemn about such a life. +You live with the sky above you and savages round about you. +These savages are like children. This state of affairs is, to be sure, +being rapidly changed: Europe is breathing its pest into the paradise. +The wiles and weaknesses of these savages are in a way +touching; you feel sorry for them as you feel sorry for a dumb, +harassed beast. I had taken a boy along with me from the boundless, +primeval forests north of the Congo. He was a little bit of +a fellow, almost a dwarf. I liked him; I even loved him. And +obedient! I merely had to make a sign, and he was ready. Well, +we came back to the Italian lakes, where I wished to remain for +a while for the sake of the climate before returning to England. +What happened? At the sight of the snow-covered mountain peaks +he was seized with deathly fear; he became homesick; and in a few +days he died of pneumonia.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span></p><p>“Why is it that there was such a long period that we never heard +from you?” asked Daniel, with a timidity and shyness that made +Benda’s heart ache.</p> + +<p>“That is a long story,” said Benda. “It took me two years to +get through that fearful forest and out to a lake called Albert-Nyanza. +From there I wanted to get over to Egypt, but the country +was in a state of revolution and was occupied by the soldiers +of the Mahdi. I was forced to take the route to the Northwest, +ran into a pathless wilderness, and for five years was a captive of +a tribe of the Wadai. The Niam-Niam, who were at war with the +Wadai, liberated me. I could move about with relative freedom +among them, but I could not go beyond their boundaries, for they +held me in high esteem as a medicine man and were afraid I would +bewitch them if I ever got out of their personal control. I had +lost my guides, and I had no money to hire new ones. The things +I needed, because of the delicacy of my constitution, as compared +with theirs, I secured through the chieftain from a band of +Arabian merchants. This was all very well so far as it went, but +the chieftain was careful to keep me concealed from the Arabs. +I finally succeeded in coming into personal touch with a Sheik to +whom I could make myself understood. It was high time, for I +could not have stood it another year.”</p> + +<p>Daniel was silent. It was all so strange; he could hardly adapt +himself to Benda’s voice and manner. Memory failed him. The +world of Benda was all too foreign, unknown to him. What he +himself felt had no weight with his friend; it did not even have +meaning. With the old sense of dim defiance, he coaxed +the ghost of disappointment into his soul; and his soul was +weighed down by the nocturnal darkness like the glass of his +window.</p> + +<p>“Now I am enjoying my home,” said Benda thoughtfully, “I +am enjoying a milder light, a more ordered civilisation. I have +come to look upon Germany as a definite figure, to love it as a +composite picture. Nature, really great, grand nature such as +formerly seemed beyond the reach of my longings, such as constituted +my idea, my presentiment of perfection, I have experienced +in person; I have lived it. It enticed me, taught me, and +almost destroyed me. All human organisation, on the contrary, has +developed more and more into an idea. In hours that were as full +of the feeling of things as the heart is full of blood, I have seen +the scales of the balance move up and down with the weight of +two worlds. The loneliness, the night, the heavens at night, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span>forest, the desert have shown me their true faces. The terribleness +that at times proceeds from them has no equal in any other +condition of existence. I understood for the first time the law +that binds families, peoples, states together. I have repudiated all +thought of rebellion, and sworn to co-operate, to do nothing but +co-operate.</p> + +<p>“I want to make a confession to you,” he continued. “I never +had the faintest conception of the rhythm of life until I went to +Africa. I had known how long it takes to grow a tree; I was +familiar with the metamorphoses through which a plant must +pass before it attains to perfection and becomes what it is; but it +had never occurred to me to apply these laws and facts to our own +lives; this had never entered my mind. I had demanded too +much; I had been in too much of a hurry. Egoistic impatience had +placed false weights and measures in my hands. What I have +learned during these seventeen years of trial and hardship is patience. +Everything moves so slowly. Humanity is still a child, +and yet we demand justice of it, expect right and righteous action +from it. Justice? Oh, there is still a long, long road to be travelled +before we reach Justice! The way is as long and arduous as +that from the primeval forest to the cultivated garden. We must +exercise patience—for the benefit of the many generations of men +that are to come after us.”</p> + +<p>Daniel got up and began to walk back and forth. After a +silence that was exceedingly painful to Benda, he said: “Let’s go +out. Let’s go to a café, or take a long walk on the streets, or go +wherever you would like to go. Or if I am a burden to you, I +will accompany you for a short stretch and then remain alone. +The point is, I cannot stay here any longer; I cannot stand it +here.”</p> + +<p>“A burden to me?” replied Benda reproachfully. That was the +tone, the look of years gone by. Daniel felt at once that he was +personally under no obligation to talk. He saw at once that Benda +knew a great deal and suspected the rest. He felt his heart grow +lighter.</p> + +<p>They went downstairs.</p> + + +<h3>XV</h3> + +<p>Daniel asked Benda to wait on the stairs, locked the door, and +took his hat from the hook. In the living room there was a great +deal of noise punctuated with laughter. Philippina came out of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span>her room, and snarled: “The way they’re carrying on in there! +You’d think they wuz all drunk!”</p> + +<p>“What is going on?” asked Daniel timidly, merely to have +something to say.</p> + +<p>“They are playing blindfold,” replied Philippina contemptuously, +“every one of them is an old bird, and they’re playing +blindfold!”</p> + +<p>There was a sound as if a plate had been broken; a piercing +scream followed, and then silence. But the silence was of momentary +duration: that vulgar, slimy laughter soon broke out again.</p> + +<p>Above the din of screaming voices, Daniel heard Dorothea’s. +He hastened to the door and opened it.</p> + +<p>His enraged eye fell on the table covered with pots, empty +cups, and pastry. The chairs had been pushed to one side; the new +gas chandelier with its five frosted globes was functioning at full +force; there were seven or eight persons grouped around Dorothea, +laughing and looking at something that had fallen on the floor.</p> + +<p>Dorothea had pushed the white sash she had been wearing while +playing blindfold back on her forehead. She was the first to see +Daniel; she exclaimed: “There is my husband. Now don’t get +angry, Daniel; it’s nothing but that idiotic plaster mask.”</p> + +<p>Councillor Finkeldey, a white-bearded man, nodded at Daniel, +or at least at the spot where he was standing, with marked enthusiasm. +It was his way of paying homage to Dorothea: everything +she said he accompanied with an inspired nod of approval.</p> + +<p>Daniel saw that the mask of Zingarella had been broken to +pieces.</p> + +<p>Without greeting a single person present, without even looking +at a single one of them, he stepped into the circle, knelt down, +and tried to put the broken pieces of the mask together. But +there were too many small shreds. The nose, the chin, parts of +the glorious forehead, a piece with the mouth arched in sorrow, +another piece of the cheek—there were too many; they could not +be put together.</p> + +<p>He hurled the fragments to one side, and straightened up. +“Philippina! The broom!” His command was given in a loud +tone. And when Philippina came in with the broom, he added: +“Sweep the dirt up on a pile, and then throw it in the garbage +can.”</p> + +<p>Philippina swept up, while Daniel, as silent and unsocial on +going as he had been on coming, left the room.</p> + +<p>Frau Feistelmann made an indignant face, Edward Hahn +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span>breathed through his nose, Herr Samuelsky, a fat man with a red +beard, made a contemptuous remark, Dorothea, vexed and annoyed, +stood and looked on while the tears took their unrestrained +course.</p> + +<p>Benda had been waiting down at the front door. “She has +broken my mask,” said Daniel with a distorted smile, as he came +down to his old friend, “the mask you gave me. You remember! +Strange that it should have been broken to-day of all days, the +very day you come to see me after so long a separation.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly it can be glued together again,” said Benda, trying to +console Daniel.</p> + +<p>“I am not in favour of glueing things together,” replied Daniel. +His eyes flashed green behind his glasses.</p> + + +<h3>XVI</h3> + +<p>When the guests left, Philippina came in and cleaned up the +room. Dorothea sat on the sofa. Her hands were lying in her +lap; she was unusually serious.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t your American ever come to see us?” asked Philippina, +without apparent motive.</p> + +<p>Dorothea was terrified. “Lock the door, Philippina,” she whispered, +“I have something to tell you.”</p> + +<p>Philippina locked the door, and went over to the sofa. “The +American has to see me,” continued Dorothea, as her eyes roamed +about the room in timid waywardness. “He says he wants to talk to +me about something that will be of very great importance to me +the rest of my life. He is living in a hotel, but I can’t go to a +hotel. It will not do to have him come here, nor do I wish to +be seen on the street with him. He has suggested a place where +we might meet, but I am afraid: I do not know the people. Can’t +you help me out, Philippina? Don’t you know some one to whom +we can go and in whose house we can meet?”</p> + +<p>Philippina’s eyes shone with their veteran glitter. She thought +for a second or two, and then replied: “Oh, yes, I’ll tell you what +you can do. Go down to Frau Hadebusch’s! She’s a good +friend of mine, and you c’n depend on her. It don’t make no +difference what takes place in her house; it won’t bother even the +cat. You know Frau Hadebusch! Of course you do. What am +I talking about! She is a widow, and lives all alone in a little +house. She won’t rent; she says she don’t want the trouble. You +know she’s no young woman any more. She is all alone, mind +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span>you. No one there but her son, and he’s cracked. Honest, the +boy ain’t right.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you go and talk it over with Frau Hadebusch, Philippina,” +said Dorothea timidly.</p> + +<p>“Very well, I’ll go see her to-morrow morning,” replied Philippina, +smiled subserviently, and laid her horny hand on Dorothea’s +tender shoulder.</p> + +<p>“But listen, Philippina, be very, very careful. Do you hear?” +Dorothea’s eyes became big and threatening. “Swear that you will +be as silent as the tombs.”</p> + +<p>“As true as I’m standing here!” said Philippina. Just then she +bent over to pick up a hair pin from the floor.</p> + +<p>The next morning Philippina ran over to Frau Hadebusch’s. +The whole way she kept humming to herself; she was happy; she +was contented.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span><a name="THE_DEVIL_LEAVES_THE_HOUSE_IN_FLAMES" id="THE_DEVIL_LEAVES_THE_HOUSE_IN_FLAMES"></a>THE DEVIL LEAVES THE HOUSE IN FLAMES</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="firstword">Despite</span> the rain, Daniel and Benda strolled around the city +moat until midnight.</p> + +<p>The very thing that lay heaviest on Daniel’s heart, as was obvious +from the expression on his face, he never mentioned. He +told of his work, his travels in connection with the old manuscripts, +his position as organist and in the conservatory, but all in +such a general, detached, and distraught way, so tired and bewildered, +that Benda was filled with an embarrassed anguish that made +courteous attention difficult if not impossible.</p> + +<p>In order to get him to talk more freely, Benda remarked that he +had not heard of the death of Gertrude and Eleanore until his +return. He said he was terribly pained to hear of it, and, try as +he might, he could not help but brood over it. But he had no +thought of persuading Daniel to give him the mournful details. +He merely wished to convince himself that Daniel had become +master of the anguish he had gone through,—master of it at least +inwardly.</p> + +<p>Instead of making a direct and logical reply, Daniel said with +a twitching of his lips: “Yes, I know, you have been here for quite +a while already. Inwardly I was surprised at your silence. But it +is not easy to start up a renewed friendship with such a problematic +creature as I am.”</p> + +<p>“You know you are wrong when you say that,” responded Benda +calmly, “and therefore I refuse to explain my long waiting. You +never were problematic to me, nor are you now. I find you at +this moment just as true and whole as you always were, despite the +fact that you avoid me, crouch before me, barricade yourself +against me.”</p> + +<p>Daniel’s breast heaved as if in the throes of a convulsion. He +said falteringly: “First let that old confidence return and grow. I +must first become accustomed to the thought that there is a man +near me who feels with me, sympathises with me, understands me. +To be sure, you want me to talk. But I cannot talk, at least not +of those things about which you would like to hear. I am afraid: +I shudder at the thought; I have forgotten how; words mock me, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span>make me feel ashamed. Even when I have good dreams, I personally +am as happily and blessedly silent in them as the beast of the +field. I shudder at the thought of reaching down into my soul +and pulling out old, rusty things and showing them to you—mouldy +fruit, slag, junk—showing them to you, you who knew +me when all within me was crystal.”</p> + +<p>He fixed his eyes on the clouds and then continued: “But there +is probably another means, Friedrich. Look, friend, look! It was +always your affair to look, to behold. Look, but see to it that you +do not make me writhe before you like a worm in the dust! And +when you have looked—wisdom needs only one spoken word for +ten that are unspoken. This one word you will surely draw from +me.”</p> + +<p>Benda, deeply moved, remained silent: “Is it the fault of a +woman?” he asked gently, as they crossed the drawbridge and +entered the desolate old door leading to the castle.</p> + +<p>“The fault of a woman? No! Not really the fault of a +woman. It is rather the fault of a man—my fault. Many a +fate reaches the decisive point in happiness, many not until coloured +with guilt. And guilt is bitter. The fault of a woman!” +he repeated, in a voice that threw off a gruesome echo in the +vaulted arch of the gateway to the castle. “There is to be sure a +woman there; and when one has anything to do with her, he finds +himself with nothing left but his eyes for weeping.”</p> + +<p>They left the gateway. Benda laid one hand on Daniel’s +shoulder, and pointed in silence at the sky with the other. There +were no stars to be seen; nothing but clouds. Benda however had +the stars in mind. Daniel understood his gesture. His eyelids +closed; around his mouth there was an expression of vehement +grief.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Benda was convinced, not merely that one great misfortune had +already taken place, but that a still greater was in the making.</p> + +<p>Whenever he thought of Dorothea, the picture that came to his +mind was one that filled him with fear. And yet, he thought, +she must have some remarkable traits, otherwise Daniel would +never have chosen her as his life companion. He wanted to meet +her.</p> + +<p>He had Daniel invite him in to tea. He called one evening +early in the afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span></p><p>She received him with expressions of ostentatious joy. She said +she could hardly wait until he came, for there was nothing in the +world that made such an impression on her as a man who had +really run great risks, who had placed his very life at stake. She +could not become tired of asking him questions. At each of his +laconic replies she would shake her head with astonishment. Then +she rested her elbows on her knees, placed her head in her hands, +bent over and stared at him as though he were some kind of prodigy—or +monster.</p> + +<p>She asked him whether he had been among cannibals, whether +he had shot any savages, whether he had hunted lions, and whether +it was really true that every Negro chieftain had hundreds of +wives. When she asked this question she made an insidious face, +and remarked that Europeans would do the same thing if the law +allowed.</p> + +<p>Thereupon she said that she could not recall having seen him, +when still a child, in her father’s house, and she was surprised at +this, for he had such a striking personality. She devoured him +with her eyes; they began to burn as they always did when she +wanted to make some kind of human capture, and blind greed +came over her. She unbent; she spoke in her very sweetest voice; +in her laugh and her smile there was, in fact, something irresistible, +something like that trait we notice in good, confiding, but at +times obstinate children.</p> + +<p>But she noticed that this man studied her, not as if she were +a young married woman who were trying to please him and gain +his sympathy, rather as a curious variety of the human species. +There was something in his face that made her tremble with +irritation, and all of a sudden her eyes were filled with hate and +distrust.</p> + +<p>Benda felt sorry for her. This everlasting attempt to make a +seductive gesture, this fishing for words that would convey a double +meaning, this self-betrayal, this excitement about nothing, made +him feel sad. Dorothea did not seem to him a bad woman. +Whatever else she might be accused of, it did not seem to +him that she was guilty of downright immoral practices. He +felt that she was merely misguided, poisoned, a phantom and a +fool.</p> + +<p>His mind went back to certain Ethiopian women in the very +heart of Africa; he thought of their noble walk, the proud restfulness +of their features, their chaste nudeness, and their inseparability +from the earth and the air.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span></p><p>He nevertheless understood his friend: the musician could not +help but succumb to the charms of the phantom; the lonely man +sought the least lonely of all human beings.</p> + +<p>As he was coming to this conclusion, Daniel entered the room. +He greeted Benda, and said to Dorothea: “There is a girl outside +who says she has some ostrich feathers for you. Did you order any +feathers?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” replied Dorothea hastily, “it is a present from my +friend, Emmy Büttinger.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s she?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know her? Why, she is the sister of Frau Feistelmann. +You must help me,” she said, turning to Benda, “for you +must know all about this kind of things. There where you have +been ostriches must be as thick as chickens here at home.” Laughing, +she went out, and returned in due time with a big box, from +which, cautiously and with evident delight, she took two big +feathers, one white, one black. Holding them by the stem, she +laid them across her hair, stepped up to the mirror, and looked +at herself with an intoxicated mien.</p> + +<p>In this mien there was something so extraordinary, indeed uncanny, +that Benda could not help but cast a horrified glance at +Daniel.</p> + +<p>“This is the first time I ever knew what a mirror was,” he said +to himself.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>That evening Daniel visited Benda in his home. Benda showed +him some armour and implements he had brought back with him +from Africa. In explaining some of the more unusual objects, +he described at length the customs of the African blacks.</p> + +<p>Then he was seized with a headache, sat down in his easy chair, +and was silent for a long while. He suddenly looked like an old +man. The ravages his health had suffered while in the tropics +became visible.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see Dorothea’s mother?” he asked, by way of +breaking the long silence.</p> + +<p>Daniel shook his head: “It is said that she is vegetating, a mere +shadow of her former self, in some kind of an institution in +Erlangen,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“I have been told that neither Andreas Döderlein nor his daughter +has ever, in all these years, taken the slightest interest in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span>unfortunate woman,” continued Benda. “Well, as to Andreas +Döderlein, I have always known what to expect of him.”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked up. “You hinted once that Döderlein was guilty +of reprehensible conduct with regard to his wife. Do you recall? +Is that in any way connected with Dorothea and her life? Do +you care to discuss the matter?”</p> + +<p>“I have no objection whatever to throwing such light on the +incident as I have,” replied Benda. “It does have to do with +Dorothea, and it explains, perhaps, some things about her. That +is, it is possible that her character is in part due to the kind of +father she grew up under and the kind of mother she lost when a +mere child. It is strange the way these things work out: I am +myself, in a way, interwoven with your own fate.”</p> + +<p>He was silent for a while; memories were rushing to his mind. +Then he began: “If you had ever known Marguerite Döderlein, +she would have been just as unforgettable to you as she is to me. +She and Eleanore—those were the two really musical women I +have known in my life. They were both all nature, all soul. +Marguerite’s youth was a prison; her brother Carovius was the +jailer. When she married Döderlein, she somehow fancied she +would escape from that prison, but she merely exchanged one for +the other. And yet she hardly knew how it all came about. She +accepted everything just as it came to her with unwavering fidelity +and gentleness. Her soul remained unlacerated, unembittered.”</p> + +<p>He rested his head on his hand; his voice became gentler. “We +loved one another before we had ever spoken a word to each +other. We met each other a few times on the street, once in a +while in the park; and a number of times she stole up to me in the +theatre. I was not reserved: I offered her my life, but she always +insisted that she could not live without her child and be happy. +I respected her feelings and restrained my own. For a while +things went on in this way. We tortured ourselves, practised resignation, +but were drawn together again, and then Döderlein suddenly +began to be suspicious. Whether his suspicion was due to whisperings +or to what he himself had at some time seen his wife do—it +was impossible for her to play the hypocrite—I really do not know. +At any rate he began to abuse her in the most perfidious manner. +He tried to disturb her conscience. One night he went to her bed +with a crucifix in his hand, and made her swear, swear on the life +of her child, that she would never deceive him. He used all +manner of threats and unctuous fustian. She took the oath.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my friend, she took the oath. And this oath seemed to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span>her much more solemn and serious than the oath she had taken at +the altar the day they were married. I knew nothing about it; +she kept out of my sight. I could not endure it. One day she +came to me again to say good-bye. There followed a moment +when human strength was no longer of avail, and human deliberation +the emptiest of words. The fatal situation developed. The +delicately moulded woman succumbed to a sense of guilt; her +heart grew irresponsive to feelings, her mind dark. She was +stricken with the delusion that her child was slowly dying in her +arms, and one day she collapsed completely. The rest is known.”</p> + +<p>Benda got up, went over to the window, and looked out into +the darkness.</p> + +<p>Daniel felt as if a rope were being tightened about his neck. +He too got up, murmured a farewell, and left.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>He had reached the Behaim monument when he began to walk +more slowly. A short distance before him he saw a man and a +woman. He recognized Dorothea.</p> + +<p>They were speaking very rapidly and in subdued tones. Daniel +followed them; and when they reached the door of his house and +turned to go in, he stopped in the shadow of the church.</p> + +<p>The man seemed to be angry and excited: Dorothea was trying +to quiet him. She was standing close by him; she held his hand +in hers until she unlocked the door. First she whispered, looked +up at the house anxiously, and then said out loud: “Good night, +Edmund. Sweet dreams!”</p> + +<p>The man went on his way without lifting his hat. Dorothea +hastened in.</p> + +<p>Daniel was trembling in his whole body. There was something +in his eyes that seemed to be beseeching; and there was something +mystic about them. He watched until the light had been +lighted upstairs and the window shade drawn. He was tortured +by the stillness of the Square; when the clock in the tower struck +eleven he thought he could hear the blood roaring in his ears.</p> + +<p>It was only with difficulty that he dragged himself into the house. +Dorothea, already in her night-gown, was sitting at the table in the +living room, sewing a ribbon on the dress she had just been wearing: +it had somehow got loose.</p> + +<p>They spoke to each other. Daniel stood behind her, near the +stove, and looked over at the back of her bared neck as if held +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span>by a spell. One cold shiver after another was running through +his body.</p> + +<p>“Who gave you those ostrich feathers?” he asked, suddenly and +rather brusquely. The question slipped from his lips before he +himself was aware of it. He would have liked to say something +else.</p> + +<p>Dorothea raised her head with a jerk. “I thought I told you,” +she replied, and he noticed that she coloured up.</p> + +<p>“I cannot believe that a perfect stranger, and a woman at that, +is making you such costly presents,” said Daniel slowly.</p> + +<p>Dorothea got up, and looked at him rather undecidedly. “Very +well, if you simply must know, I bought them myself,” she said +with unusual defiance. “But you don’t need to try to browbeat +me like that; I’ll get the money that I paid for them. And you +needn’t think for a minute that I am going to let you draw up a +family budget, and expect to make me live by it.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t buy those feathers,” said Daniel, cutting her off in +the middle of her harangue.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t buy them, and they were not given to me! How +did I get them then? Stole them perhaps?” Dorothea was scornful; +but cowardice made it impossible for her to look Daniel in +the face.</p> + +<p>“I have never in my life talked to any one in this way, nor has +any one ever spoken to me like that,” thought Daniel to himself. +He turned deathly pale, went up to her, and placed his hand like +an iron vise about her arm. “I shall permit you to waste my money; +I shall not object if you fritter your time away in the company +of good-for-nothing people; if you regard my health and peace +of mind as of no consequence whatever, I shall say nothing; if you +let your poor little child suffer and pine away, I shall keep quiet. +I shall submit to all of this. And why shouldn’t I? Why should +I want to have my meals served at regular hours? Why should +I insist that my morning coffee be warm and my rolls fresh from +the baker? Why should I be so exacting as to ask that my clothes +be mended, my windows washed, my room swept, and my table in +order? I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth; I have +never known what it was to be comfortable.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, listen, Daniel, it’s too bad about you,” said Dorothea in +an anxious tone, “but let go of my arm.”</p> + +<p>He loosened his grip on her arm, but did not let it go. “You +may associate with whomsoever you please. Let those people +treasure you to whom you are a treasure. So far as money is concerned, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span>you can have all that I have. Here it is, take it.” He +drew from his pocket an embroidered purse filled with coins, and +hurled them on the table. “So that you can wear fine dresses, I +will play the organ on Sundays. So that you can go to masquerade +balls and parties of all kinds, I will try to beat a little music into +some twenty-odd unmusical idiots. I will do more than that: I +will promise never to bother myself about your behaviour: I will +never ask you where you have been or where you are going. But +listen, Dorothea,” he said, as his face flushed with anger and +anxiety, his voice rising as if by unconscious pressure, “don’t you +ever dare dishonour my name! It is the only thing I have. I owe +humanity an irreparable debt for it. It invests me not simply with +what is known as civic honour, it gives me also the honour I feel +and enjoy when I stand in the presence of what I have created. +Lie, and you besmirch my name! Lie, and you sully and debase +it! I am probably not as much afraid as you think I am of being +regarded as a cuckold, though I admit that the thought of it makes +my blood boil. But I want to say to you here and now, that +when I think of you in the arms of another man I feel within me +a deep desire, a real lust for murder. But you would throw me +into the last pit of hell and damnation, if you were to repay the +truths I have told you and given you with lies, lies, lies. You +must not, you dare not, imagine for a minute that I am so selfish +and vulgar as not to be able to understand that a change might +come over your heart. But that is one thing; telling a lie and +living a lie is quite another. It is impossible for me to live side +by side with another human being except in absolute truth. A +lie, the lie, crushes what there is in me of the divine. A lie to +me is carrion and corruption. Tell me, then, whether you have +been and are true to me! Don’t be afraid, Dorothea, and don’t +be ashamed. Everything may be right yet and work out as it +should. But tell me: Have you been deceiving me?”</p> + +<p>“I—deceiving you?” breathed Dorothea, and looked into his face +as if hypnotised, never so much as moving an eyelash. “What +do you mean? Deceiving you? Do you really think that I would +be capable of such baseness?”</p> + +<p>“You have no lover? No other man has touched you since you +have been my wife?”</p> + +<p>“A lover? Some other man has touched me?” she repeated +with that same hypnotic look. In her child-like face there was +the glow of unadulterated honour and undiluted innocence.</p> + +<p>“You have been having no secret <i>rendezvous</i>, you have not been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span>receiving treacherous letters, nor writing them, you have promised +no man anything, not even in jest?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, well now, Daniel, listen! In jest. That’s another matter. +Who knows? You know me, and you know how one talks and +laughs.”</p> + +<p>“And you assure me that all this mysterious abuse that is being +whispered into my ears and to which your conduct has given a +certain amount of plausibility is nothing in the world but wickedness +on the part of people who know us, nothing but calumny?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Daniel: it is merely wickedness, meanness, and calumny.”</p> + +<p>“You are willing that God above should never grant you another +minute of peace, if you have been lying to me? Do you wish +that, Dorothea?”</p> + +<p>Dorothea balked; she blinked a little. Then she said quite +softly: “Those are terrible words, Daniel. But if you insist upon +it, I am willing to abide by the curse you have made a possibility.”</p> + +<p>Daniel breathed a breath of relief. He felt that a mighty +load had been taken from his heart. And in grateful emotion he +went up to his wife, and pressed her to his bosom.</p> + +<p>But at the same time he was repelled by something. He felt +that the creature he was pressing to his heart was without rhythm, +or vibration, or law, or order. He began again to be gnawed at +by torture, this time of a new species and coming from another +direction.</p> + +<p>As he opened the door to the hall, he heard a rustle; and he +saw a dark figure hastening over to the room that opened on the +court.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Left alone, Dorothea stared for a while into space, as motionless +as a statue. Then she took her violin and bow from the case—she +had bought a new bow to take the place of the one that had +been broken—and began to play: a cadence, a trill, a waltz. Her +face took on a hardened, resolute expression.</p> + +<p>She soon let the instrument fall from her hands, and began to +think. She laid the violin to one side, took off her slippers, +sneaked out of the room in her stocking feet and across the hall, +and listened at the door to Philippina’s room. She opened it cautiously +and heard a sound snoring from Philippina’s bed, which +stood next to the door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span></p><p>The lamp had almost burned down; it gave so little light that +the bed clothes could hardly be seen.</p> + +<p>She stole up to Philippina’s couch of repose, step by step, without +making the slightest noise, bent down, stretched out her arm, +groped around over the body of the inexplicable creature who was +sleeping there, and was on the point of raising the covers and +reaching for Philippina’s breast. Philippina ceased snoring, woke +up as if she had been struck in the face by the rays of a magic +lantern, opened her eyes, and looked at Dorothea with a speechless +threat. Not a muscle of her face moved.</p> + +<p>Dorothea collected her thoughts instantly. With the expression +on her face of one who has just succeeded in carrying out some +good joke, she threw her whole body on Philippina and pressed +her face to her cheek, nauseated though she was by the stench of +her breath and the bed clothes.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Philippina, the American wants to give you something,” +she whispered.</p> + +<p>“Jesus, you’re punching my belly in,” replied Philippina, and +gasped for breath. When Dorothea had straightened up, she said: +“Well, has he already given you something? That’s the main +thing.”</p> + +<p>“He gave me the feathers. Isn’t that something?” replied +Dorothea, “and he is going to give me a set of rubies.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you already had ’em. It seems to me that your American +don’t exactly hail from Givetown. I’ve been told that he +ain’t so damn rich after all. When are you goin’ to meet him +again, your lover?”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow evening, between six and seven. Oh, I am so glad, +so glad, Philippina. He is so young.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, young! That’s a lot, ain’t it?” murmured Philippina +contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“He has such a pretty mole on his neck, way down on his neck, +down there,” she said, pointing to the same spot on Philippina’s +neck. “Right there! Does it tickle you? Does it make you +feel good?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t laugh so loud, you’ll waken little Gottfried,” said +Philippina in a testy, morose tone. “And get out of here! I’m +sleepy.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night, then, you pesky old dormouse,” said Dorothea, +in seemingly good-natured banter, and left the room.</p> + +<p>Hardly had she closed the door behind her when Philippina +sprang like an enraged demon from her bed, clenched her fist, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span>and hissed: “Damned thief and whore! She wanted to rob me, +that’s what she did, the dirty wench! You wait! Your days in +this place are numbered. Somebody’s going to squeal, believe me, +and when they do, they’ll get you right.”</p> + +<p>She drew her red petticoat over her legs, tied it tightly, and +went to the door to lock it. The lock had been out of order for +some time; she could not budge it. She carried a chair over to +the door, placed it directly underneath the lock, folded her arms, +sat down on it, and remained sitting there for an hour or so blinking +her evil eyes.</p> + +<p>When no longer able to keep from going to sleep, she got up, +placed the folding table against the door, and got back into bed, +murmuring imprecations such as were second nature to her.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>The following day began with a heavy rain storm. Daniel had +had a restless night; he went to his work quite early. But his +head was so heavy that he had to stop every now and then, and rest +it on his hand. There was no blood, no swing to his ideas.</p> + +<p>Toward eight o’clock the postman came, and asked for Inspector +Jordan. The old man had to sign a receipt in acknowledgment +of a solemnly sealed money order.</p> + +<p>In the letter the postman gave him were two hundred dollars +in bills and a note from Benno. The letter had been mailed in +Galveston. Benno wrote that he had made inquiries and found +that his father was still living. He said he had been quite successful +in the New World, and as a proof of his prosperity he was +sending him the enclosed sum, with the best of greetings, in payment +for the trouble he had cost his father.</p> + +<p>It was a cold epistle. But the old man was beside himself with +joy. He ran to Daniel and then to Philippina, held the crisp +notes in the air, and stammered: “Look, people! He is rich. He +has sent me two hundred dollars! He has become an honest man, +he has. He remembers his old father, he does! Really this is a +great day! A great day, Daniel, because of something else that +has just been finished.” He added with a mysterious smile: “A +blessed day in the history of a great cause!”</p> + +<p>He dressed and went down town; he wanted to tell his friends +the news.</p> + +<p>Daniel called down to know if his breakfast was ready; nobody +answered. Thereupon he went to the kitchen, and got himself +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span>a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread. Philippina came in a little +later. Her hair looked as though a hurricane had struck it; she +was in her worst humour. She snarled at Daniel, asking him why +in the name of God he couldn’t wait till the coffee had been +boiled.</p> + +<p>“Leave me in peace, Philippina,” he said, “I need peace.”</p> + +<p>“Peace!” she roared, “peace, the same old story: you want peace!” +She threw a wild, contemptuous glance at the open chest containing +Daniel’s scores, leaned against the table, put the tips of her dirty +fingers on the score he was then studying, and shrieked: “There is +the cause of the whole <i>malheur</i>! The whole <i>malheur</i>, I say, +comes from this damned note-smearing of yours! The idea of a +man settin’ down and dabbing them pot-hooks on good white paper, +day after day, year in and year out! What does it all mean? Tell +me! While you’re doin’ it, everything else is moving—like a +crab, backwards. Jesus, you’re a man, and yet you spend your time +at that kind of stuff! I’d be ashamed to admit it.”</p> + +<p>Not prepared for this enigmatic outburst of anger and hate, +Daniel looked at Philippina utterly dazed. “Get out of here,” he +cried indignantly. “Get out of here, I say,” and pointed to the +door.</p> + +<p>She got out. “The damned dabbery!” she bellowed with reinforced +maliciousness.</p> + +<p>From ten to twelve, Daniel had to lecture at the conservatory. +His heart beat violently, though he was unable to explain his excitement. +It was more than a foreboding: he felt as if he had heard +a piece of terribly bad news and the real nature of it had slipped +his memory.</p> + +<p>He did not go home for luncheon; he ate in the café at the +Carthusian Gate. Then he took a long walk out over the fields +and meadows. It had stopped raining, and the brisk wind refreshed +him. He stood for a long while on the banks of the canal, and +watched some men piling bricks at a brick-kiln. From time to +time he took a piece of paper from his pocket, and wrote something +on it with his pencil: it was notes.</p> + +<p>Once he wrote alongside of a motif: “Farewell, my music!” +His eyes were filled with dreadful tears.</p> + +<p>He returned to the city just as the sun was setting; it looked +like a huge ball of fire in the west. The sky shone out between +two great black clouds like the forge of a smithy. He could not +help but think of Eleanore.</p> + +<p>He entered his living room, and paced back and forth. Philippina +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span>came in, and asked him whether she should warm up his soup +for him. Her unnatural, singing tone attracted his attention; he +looked at her very closely.</p> + +<p>“Where is my wife?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Philippina’s face betrayed an abysmally mean smile, but she +never said a word.</p> + +<p>“Where is my wife?” he asked a second time, after a pause.</p> + +<p>Philippina’s smile became brighter. “Is it cold out?” she asked, +and in a moment she had left the room. Daniel stared at her as if +he feared she had lost her mind. In a few minutes she came +back. In the meantime she had put on a cloak that was much +too short for her, and beneath which the loud, freakish skirt of +her checkered dress could be seen.</p> + +<p>“Daniel, come along with me,” she said in an anxious voice. +To Daniel her voice sounded mysterious and fearful. “Come along +with me, Daniel! I want to show you something.”</p> + +<p>He turned pale, put on his hat, and followed her. They +crossed the square in silence, went through Binder Street, Town +Hall Street, and across the Market. Daniel stopped. “What are +you up to?” he asked with a hoarse voice.</p> + +<p>“Come along! You’ll see,” whispered Philippina.</p> + +<p>They walked on, crossed the Meat Bridge, went through Kaiser +Street and the White Tower to St. James’s Place. Some people +looked at the odd couple in amazement. When they reached Frau +Hadebusch’s little house, it was dark. “Listen, Philippina, are you +ever going to talk?” said Daniel, gritting his teeth.</p> + +<p>“Psh!” Philippina knew what she was doing. She put her +mouth to Daniel’s ear, and whispered: “Go up two flights, quick, +you know the house, bang on the door, and if it’s locked, bust it in. +In the meantime I’ll go to Frau Hadebusch so that she can’t interfere.”</p> + +<p>Then Daniel understood.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Everything became blood-red before his eyes; he was seized +with a feverish chill.</p> + +<p>He had followed Philippina with a dejected, limp feeling of +disgust, fear and coercion. Now he knew what it was all about. +At the very beginning of the events he saw the middle and the +end. He saw before the bolted door what was going on behind +it. His soul was seized with horror, rage, woe, contempt, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</a></span>terror. He felt dizzy; he feared lie might lose consciousness.</p> + +<p>He sprang up the creaking stairs by leaps and bounds. He stood +before the door behind which he had gone hungry, been cold, and +glowed with enthusiasm as a young man. Silence should have +reigned there now, so that the devotion of retrospective spirits +might not be molested on the grave of so many, many hopes.</p> + +<p>He jerked at the latch; a scream was heard from within. The +door was bolted. He pressed his body against the fragile wood so +violently that both hinges, and the latch, gave way, and the door +fell on to the middle of the floor with a mighty crash.</p> + +<p>The scream was repeated, this time in a more piercing tone. +Dorothea was lying on a big bed with nothing on but a flimsy +chemise. Frau Hadebusch, pimp always, had rented the bed from +a second-hand dealer; it covered a half of the room. Before +Dorothea was a plate of cherries; she had been amusing herself by +shooting the pits at her lover. He likewise was lacking nearly all +the garments ordinarily worn by men when in the presence of +women. He was sitting astride on a chair, smoking a short-stemmed +pipe.</p> + +<p>When Daniel, with bloody hands—he had scratched himself +while breaking in the door—with his hair flying wild about his +face, panting, and pale as death, stepped over the door, Dorothea +again began to scream; she screamed seven or eight times. She +was filled with despair and terrible anxiety.</p> + +<p>Daniel rushed at the young man, and seized him by the throat. +While he held the American in a death-like grip, while he saw +Dorothea, as if in a roseate haze, with uplifted arms, leave the +bed screaming at the top of her voice, while an extraordinary +power of observation, despite his insane rage, came over him, while +he watched the cherries as they rolled across the bed and saw +the green stems, some of which were withered, showing that the +cherries were half rotten, while he felt a taste on his tongue as if +he too had eaten cherries—while he saw all these things and had +this sensation, he thought to himself without either doubt or relief: +“This is the downfall; this is chaos.”</p> + +<p>The American—it later became known that he was a wandering +artist who had, with an equal amount of nerve and adroitness, +worked his way into the private social life of the city—thrust his +antagonist back with all his might, and struck up the position of a +professional boxer. Daniel, however, gave him no time to strike; +he fell on him, wrapped his arms tight about him, threw him to +the floor, and was trying to choke him. He groaned, struggled, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</a></span>got his fist loose, struck Daniel in the face, and cried, “You damned +fool!” But it was the cry of a whipped man.</p> + +<p>Loud noise broke out downstairs. A crowd of people collected +on the sidewalk. “Police, police!” shrieked the shrill voice of a +woman. The people began to make their way up the stairs.</p> + +<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” moaned Dorothea. In half a minute she had +her dress on. “Out of this place and away,” she said, as she +looked for her gloves and umbrella.</p> + +<p>Frau Hadebusch appeared in the hall, wringing her hands. Behind +her stood Philippina. Two men forced their way in, ran +up to Daniel and the American, and tried to separate them. But +they had bitten into each other like two mad dogs; and it was +necessary to call for help. A soldier and the milkman gave a +hand; and finally two policemen appeared on the scene.</p> + +<p>“I must go home,” cried Dorothea, while the other women +shrieked and carried on. “I must go home, and get my things +and leave.”</p> + +<p>With the face of one possessed and at the same time dumb, +Philippina stole out from among the excited crowd and followed +Dorothea. She did not feel that she was walking; she could not +feel the pavement under her feet; she was unconscious of the air. +That wild inspiration returned to her which she had experienced +once before in her life—the time she went up in the attic and +saw Gertrude’s lifeless body hanging from a rafter.</p> + +<p>Her veins pulsed with a hot lust for destruction. “Swing the +torch!” That was the cry she heard running through her brain. +“Swing the torch!” But she wanted to do something much more +pretentious this time than merely start a fire in some rubbish. +The farther she went the more rapidly she walked. Finally she +began to run and sing with a loud, coarse voice. Her cloak was +not buttoned; it flew in the air. The people who saw her stopped +and looked at her, amazed.</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>Herr Carovius and Jordan were sitting in the Paradise Café.</p> + +<p>“How things change, and how everything clears up and +straightens out!” remarked Jordan.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the open graves are gaping again,” said Herr Carovius +cynically.</p> + +<p>“So far as I am concerned,” continued Jordan, without noticing +the aversion his affability had aroused in Herr Carovius, “I can +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</a></span>now face death with perfect peace of mind. My mission is ended; +my work is done.”</p> + +<p>“That sounds as if you had discovered the philosopher’s stone,” +remarked Herr Carovius sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” replied Jordan gently and bent over the table. “You +are after all not entirely wrong, my honoured friend. Do you +wish to be convinced? Will you honour me with a visit?”</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius had become curious. They paid their bills and +left for Ægydius Place.</p> + +<p>Having entered Jordan’s room, the old man lighted a lamp and +bolted the door. He then opened the door of the great cabinet +by the wall, and took out a big doll. It was dressed like a Swiss +maid, had on a flowered skirt, a linen waist, and a little pink apron. +Its yellow hair was done up in braids, and on its head was a little +felt hat.</p> + +<p>“All that is my handiwork,” said Jordan, with much show of +pride. “I myself took all the measurements and made the clothes, +including even the shoes. And now watch, my dear friend.”</p> + +<p>He placed the doll in the middle of the room. “She will +speak,” he continued, his face radiant with joy, “she will sing. +She will sing a song native to her beloved Tyrol. Will you be +so good as to take this chair? I would rather not have you so +close to it, if I may, for there are certain noises which I still have +to correct. The illusion is stronger when you are some distance +away.”</p> + +<p>He crouched down behind the doll, did something at its back, +and the buzzing of wheels became audible. The old man then +stepped out to the front of the doll, and said: “Now, my little girl, +let’s hear what you can do!”</p> + +<p>An uncanny, hoarse, somewhat cooing voice rang out from the +body of the doll. It sounded like the vibrations of metallic strings +accompanied by the low tones of a water whistle. If you closed +your eyes, you could at least imagine you were hearing a song sung +by some one in the distance. But if you looked at the thing closely +with its lifeless, mask-like kindly, waxen face, and heard the shrill, +muffled sounds, without either articulation or rhythm, coming from +within, it took on a ghostly aspect. Herr Carovius in fact felt a +cold chill creep down his back.</p> + +<p>When the machine ran down, the doll’s eyelids and lips closed. +Jordan was looking at Herr Carovius in great suspense. “Well, +what do you think of it?” he asked. “Be quite frank; I can stand +any amount of criticism.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</a></span></p><p>Herr Carovius had great difficulty to keep from bursting out +laughing. His mouth and chin itched. Suddenly, however, scorn +and contempt left him; he fell into a disagreeably serious frame +of mind, and a softness, a mildness such as he had not felt since +time immemorial stole over his heart. He said: “That is a perfectly +splendid invention! Perfectly splendid! Though it does +need some improvement.”</p> + +<p>Jordan nodded zealously and with joyous approval. He was +on the point of going into a detailed description of the mechanism +and its artistic construction, when the two men heard a strange +noise in the adjoining room. They stopped and listened. They +could hear some one moving the furniture; there were steps +back and forth; they heard a hammering and pounding as if +some one were trying to open a box. This was followed by a +sound that resembled the falling of paper on the floor; it lasted for +some time, bunch apparently following bunch. Listen! Some one +is talking in an abusive voice! What’s that? A gruesome, sing-song +voice repeating unintelligible words: “I-oi! huh, huh! I-oi, +huh-huh!” There is a sound as if of crackling fire. The flames +cannot be seen; but they can be heard!</p> + +<p>Old Jordan jerked the door open, and cried like a child.</p> + +<p>Philippina was standing in the midst of a pile of burning papers. +She had forced Daniel’s trunk open, thrown every one of his scores +on the floor, and set them on fire. She was a fearful object to +behold. Her hair hung down loose and straggly over her shoulders, +she was swinging her arms as if she were working a pump-handle, +and from her mouth poured forth a volley of loud, babbling, +gurgling tones that bore not the faintest resemblance to anything +human. Her face, lightened by the flames, was coloured with the +trace of fearful voluptuousness. Herr Carovius and old Jordan +stood in the doorway as if paralysed. Seeing them, she began to +hop about, and stretched out her upraised arms to the flames, which +were leaping higher and higher.</p> + +<p>Herr Carovius, awakening from his torpidity, saw that it was +high time to make some effort to escape. Shielding his face with +his hands, he fled as fast as his feet could carry him to the hall +door and down the steps. Tears were gushing down Jordan’s +cheeks; fear had made it impossible for him to reflect. He ran back +into his room, opened the window, and called out to the people +on the square. Then he chanced to think of his beloved doll. +He rushed up to it and took it under his arm. But when he tried +to leave the room, the smoke blew into his face, benumbing and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</a></span>burning him. He staggered, reached the top of the stairs, made +a misstep, fell headlong down the steps, still holding the doll in +convulsive embrace, twitched a few times, and then lay lifeless +on the hall floor.</p> + +<p>Heart failure had put an end to his life.</p> + +<p>Dorothea, who had been in the house packing her things, +hastened, luggage in hand, past the corpse. Her face was ashen; +she never looked at the dead body of Inspector Jordan. She was +soon lost in the crowd of excited people. She had vanished.</p> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>The police had at last separated Daniel and the American in +Frau Hadebusch’s house. Daniel fell on a chair, and gazed +stupidly into space. Frau Hadebusch brought him some water. +The American put on his clothes, while the spectators looked on +and laughed.</p> + +<p>The two men were then taken to the police station, where the +lieutenant in charge took such depositions as were necessary for +court action. Daniel saw a gas lamp, a quill pen, several grinning +faces, his own bloody hand, and nothing more. The American +was held in order to protect him from further attacks; Daniel +was released. He heard the young man tell his story in a mangled +German and with a voice that was nearly choked with rage, but +did not absorb anything he said.</p> + +<p>He heard a dog bark, a wagon rattle, a bell strike; he heard +people talking, murmuring, crying; he heard the scraping of feet. +But it all sounded to him like noises that were reaching his ears +through the walls of a prison. He went on his way; his gait +was unsteady.</p> + +<p>As he reached the Church of Our Lady, Daniel turned to the +right toward the Market Place, and saw the Goose Man standing +before him.</p> + +<p>“Go home,” the Goose Man seemed to say with a sad voice. +“Go home!”</p> + +<p>“Who are you? what do you wish of me?” A voice within +him asked. But then it seemed that the figure had become invisible, +and that it could not be seen again until it was far off in +the distance, where it was being shone upon by a bright light.</p> + +<p>People were running across Ægydius Place; some of them were +crying “Fire!” Daniel turned the corner; he could see his house. +Flames were leaping up behind his window. He pressed his hands +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</a></span>to his temples, and, with eyes wide open and filled with terror, he +forced his way through the crowd up to his house. “For God’s +sake, for Heaven’s sake!” he cried, “save my trunk!”</p> + +<p>Many looked at him. A figure appeared at the window; many +arms were pointed at it. “The woman! Look, look, the woman!” +came a cry from the crowd. And then again: “She has set the +house on fire! She has swung the torch and started the fire!”</p> + +<p>Daniel rushed into his house. Firemen overtook him. There +he saw in the hall, lighted by the lanterns being carried back and +forth so swiftly, and placed in the corner with no more care or +consideration than was possible under such circumstances, the dead +body of old Jordan. His body, and close beside it, as if in supernatural +mockery of all things human, the doll, the Swiss maid +with the machine in her stomach. Sighing and sobbing, he fell +down; his forehead touched the dead hand of the old man.</p> + +<p>As if in a dream he heard the hissing of the hoses, the commands, +the hurried running back and forth of the firemen. Then +he felt as if a shadow, a figure from the lower world, suddenly +rose before him. A clenched fist, he thought, opened and hurled +shreds of paper into his face. When he looked up he could see +nothing but the firemen rushing around him. The shadow, the +figure, had pushed its way in among them, and in the confusion +no one had paid any attention to it.</p> + +<p>With an absent-minded gesture, Daniel reached out and picked +up the paper that was lying nearest him. It had fallen on the +face of the doll. He unfolded it and saw, written in his own +hand, the music to the “Harzreise im Winter.” Under the notes +were the words:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But aside, who is it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His path in the bushes is lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind him rustle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thickets together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass rises again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The desert conceals him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The melody and rhythm that interpreted the words were of a +grandiose gloominess, like a song of shades pursued in the night, +across the sea. Daniel recalled the hour he had written this music; +he recalled the expression on Gertrude’s face the time he played +it for her. Eleanore was there, too, wearing a white dress, with +a myrtle wreath in her hair. The tones dissolved the web of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</a></span>infinite time. “But aside, who is it?” came forth like a great, +deep dirge. In the question there was something prophetically +great. He covered his face and wept; he felt as if his heart +would break.</p> + +<p>The dead man and the doll were lying there, motionless, lifeless.</p> + +<p>In half an hour the fire was under control. The two attic +rooms had been burned out completely. Further than this no +damage had been done.</p> + +<p>Philippina had vanished without a trace. Since no one had +seen her leave the house, the first theory was that she had been +burned to death. But investigation proved this assumption to be +incorrect. The police looked for her everywhere, but in vain; +she was not to be found. A few people who had known her +rather intimately insisted that she had been burned up so completely +that there was nothing left of her but a little pile of black ashes.</p> + +<p>However this may be, and whatever the truth may be, Philippina +never again entered the house. No one ever again saw or heard a +thing of her.</p> + + + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</a></span><a name="BUT_ASIDE_WHO_IS_IT" id="BUT_ASIDE_WHO_IS_IT"></a>BUT ASIDE, WHO IS IT?</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + + +<p><span class="firstword">Late</span> in the evening Benda came. He had been tolerably well +informed of everything that had taken place. In the hall he met +Agnes. Though generally quite monosyllabic, Agnes was now +inclined to be extremely communicative, but she could merely confirm +what he had already heard.</p> + +<p>She went up to the top floor with him, and he stood there for a +long while looking at the burnt rooms. There were two firemen +on guard duty. “All of his music has been burnt up,” said Agnes. +Benda thought he would hardly be able to talk with his old friend +again after this tragedy. But he at once felt ashamed of his +timidity, and went down to see him.</p> + +<p>It was again quiet throughout the entire house.</p> + +<p>Daniel had lighted a candle in the living room. Finding it too +dark with only one candle, he lighted another.</p> + +<p>He paced back and forth. The room seemed too small for him: +he opened the door leading into Dorothea’s room, and walked +back and forth through it too. On entering the dark room, his +lips would move; he would murmur something. When he returned +to the lighted room, he would stand for a second or two and stare +at the candles.</p> + +<p>His features seemed to show traces of human suffering such as +no man had borne before; it could hardly have been greater. He +did not seem to notice Benda when he came in.</p> + +<p>“Everything gone? Everything destroyed?” asked Benda, after +he had watched Daniel walk back and forth for nearly a quarter +of an hour.</p> + +<p>“One grave after the other,” murmured Daniel, in a voice that +no longer seemed to be his own. He raised his head as if surprised +at the sound of what he himself had said. He felt that +a stranger had come into the room without letting himself be heard.</p> + +<p>“And the last work, the great work of which you told me, +the fruit of so many years, has it also been destroyed?” asked +Benda.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</a></span></p><p>“Everything,” replied Daniel distractedly, “everything I have +created in the way of music from the time I first had reason to +believe in myself. The sonatas, the songs, the quartette, the psalm, +the ‘Harzreise,’ ‘Wanderers Sturmlied,’ and the symphony, everything +down to the last page and the last note.”</p> + +<p>Yes, there was a stranger there; you could hear him laughing +quietly to himself. “Why do you laugh?” asked Daniel sternly, +and adjusted his glasses.</p> + +<p>Benda, terrified, said: “I did not laugh.”</p> + +<p>“The grass rises again, the desert conceals him,” said the stranger. +He wore an old-fashioned suit, a droll sort of cap, and Hessian +boots. “I ought to know him,” thought Daniel to himself, and +began to meditate with cloudy mind.</p> + +<p>“This is like murder, unheard-of murder,” cried Benda’s soul; +“how can he bear it? What will he do?”</p> + +<p>“What is there to do?” asked Daniel, expressing Benda’s silent +thought in audible words, and looking askew, as he walked back +and forth, at the stranger who went slowly through the room over +to the window in the corner. “What can human fancy find reasonable +or possible after all that has happened? Nothing! Merely +pine away; pine away in insanity.”</p> + +<p>“Oho,” said the stranger, “that is a trifle strong.”</p> + +<p>“If he would only keep quiet,” thought Daniel, tortured. “I +presume you know what has happened with the woman whom I +called my wife,” he continued. “That I threw myself away on +this vain, soulless spirit of a mirror is irrelevant. Greater men +than I have walked into such nets and become entangled, ensnared. +I have never cherished the delusion that I was immune to all the +mockery of this earth. I believed, however, that I could scent out +truth and falsehood, and differentiate the one from the other, just +as the hand can tell by the feel the wet from the dry. But the +connection of the one with the other, and the horrible necessity +of this connection, I do not understand.”</p> + +<p>“You have been served just right,” remarked the intruder with +the Hessian boots. He had sat down on a chair in the corner, and +looked quite friendly.</p> + +<p>“Why?” roared Daniel, stopping.</p> + +<p>Benda, astounded, rose to his feet. “Speak out, Daniel,” he said +affectionately, “unburden your soul!”</p> + +<p>“If I only could, Friedrich, if I only could! If my tongue +would only move! Or if there were some one who felt with me +and could speak for me!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</a></span></p><p>“Try it; the first word is often like a spark and starts a flame.”</p> + +<p>Daniel was silent. The intruder said deliberatively: “That goes +deep down to the recesses of the heart and up high to the things +that are immortal.”</p> + +<p>Daniel looked over at him sharply, and saw that it was the +Goose Man.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>All effort to get Daniel to talk was in vain. Along toward +midnight, Benda took leave of him. Agnes unlocked the door for +him; he said to her: “Look after him; he has no one else now.”</p> + +<p>Daniel lay on the sofa with his hands crossed behind his head, +and stared at the ceiling. His eyes were hot; at times he trembled +and shook.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t very sociable here,” said the Goose Man, “the air is +full of tobacco smoke, and there is a draft coming in from that +dark room.”</p> + +<p>Daniel got up, closed the door, and lay down again.</p> + +<p>The metallic exterior of the Goose Man seemed to become +flexible, somewhat as when a frozen body thaws out. “You have +gone through a great deal,” he continued thoughtfully. “That +any one who wishes to create must also experience is clear. Experience +is his mother’s milk, his realm of roots; it is where the saps +flow together, from which his forms and figures are developed. +But there is experience and experience, and between the two there +is a world of difference.”</p> + +<p>“Superfluous profundity,” murmured Daniel, plainly annoyed. +“To live is to have experience.” He took council with himself +in the attempt to devise a means by which he might get rid of the +importunate chatterer.</p> + +<p>The Goose Man again struck up his gentle laugh. He replied: +“Many live, and yet do not live; suffer, and yet do not suffer. +In what does guilt lie? What does it consist of? In not feeling; +in not doing. The first thing for some men to do is to eradicate +completely the false notions they have of what constitutes greatness. +For what is greatness after all? It is nothing in the world but the +fulfilment of an unending circle of petty duties, small obligations.”</p> + +<p>“There is a fundamental difference between the creator and all +other men,” remarked Daniel, at once excited and troubled by the +conversation and the turn it was taking.</p> + +<p>“Do you appeal to, depend on, refer to music in this present +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</a></span>case?” asked the Goose Man, his good-natured look becoming more +or less disdainful.</p> + +<p>“In music every creation is more closely related to an unconditional +exterior than is true of anything else that man gives to +man,” answered Daniel. “The musical genius stands nearer God +than any other genius.”</p> + +<p>The Goose Man nodded. “But his fall begins one step from +God’s throne, and is a high and deep one. Do you know what +you are? And do you really know what you are not?”</p> + +<p>Daniel pressed his hand to his heart: “Have you ever known me +to fight for evanescent laurels? Have I ever tried to feed the +human race, which is a race of minors, on surrogates? Have I +ever imitated the flights of Heaven with St. Vitus dance, confusing +the one with the other? Have I not always acted in accord with +the best, the inmost knowledge I had, and in obedience to my conscience? +Was I ever a liar?”</p> + +<p>“No, no, no!” cried the Goose Man, by way of appeasing +Daniel’s unrest. He took off his cap, and laid it on his knee. +“You were always sincere. There can be no doubt about it, your +heart was always in your profession. All life has streamed into +your soul, and you have lived in the ivory tower. Your soul was +well protected, well protected from the very beginning. It was +in a position similar to that created by a swimmer who rubs his +body with grease before plunging into the water. You have suffered; +the poison of the Nessus shirt you have worn has burned +your skin, and the pain you have thereby suffered has been transformed +into sweet sounds. So they all are, the creators, invulnerable +and inaccessible. That is the way you picture them to +yourself. Is it not true? Monsters who take up the cross of the +world, and yet, grief-laden though they be, grow beyond their own +fate. Such is your lot; and so do you look to-day in your forty-second +year.”</p> + +<p>Daniel was not prepared for this tone of bitterness; he turned +his face to the corner where the Goose Man was sitting. “I do +not understand you,” he said slowly. The pitiable crying of little +Gottfried could be heard from the room opening out on the court, +and then Agnes’s quieting lullaby.</p> + +<p>“If you only had not lived in the ivory tower!” cried the Goose +Man. “If you only had been more sensitive and not so well protected! +If you had only lived, lived, lived, really and truly, and +near to life, like a naked man in a thicket of thorns! Life would +have got the best of you, but your love would have been real, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[459]</a></span>hate you have experienced real, your misfortunes real, the lies, +ridicule, and betrayal all real, and the shadows of those who have +died from you would have taken on reality. And the poison of +the Nessus shirt would not merely have burned your skin; it would +have penetrated to your very blood, it would have found its way +to the deepest, most secret recesses of your heart. Your work +would have been carried on and out, not in a struggle against your +darkness and your limited torments of soul, a slave before men and +unblessed of God. Eliminate from your mind now, forever and +completely, the delusion that you have borne the sufferings of the +world! You have merely borne your own sufferings, loving-loveless, +altruistic-egoist, monster, man without a country that you are!”</p> + +<p>“Who are you? What are you trying to say?” asked Daniel, +automatically, falteringly, with pale lips.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t you see who I am? I am the Goose Man,” came +the reply, spoken with a loyal and devoted bow. “The Goose +Man, lonesome there behind the iron fence, lonesome there on the +water at the fountain, and yet situated in the middle of the +Market. An insignificant being, tangible and intelligible to every +one who passes by, though a certain degree of monumentality has +been ascribed to me in all these years. But I pay no attention to +this ascription of greatness; I laugh at it. I give the Market, where +the people come and haggle over the price of potatoes and apples, +a certain degree of dignity. That is all. They see me as I stand +there, always upright, under the open sky; and despite my distinguished +position, they have all come to look upon me as a cousin. +For a time they gave me a nickname: they called me by your name. +But they had no right to do this; none at all, it seems to me. I +have looked out for my geese; no one can say a thing against me.”</p> + +<p>The Goose Man laughed a quiet, inoffensive laugh; and when +Daniel turned his face to the corner, the chair was empty, the +strange guest had vanished.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>But he came back. And when Daniel’s mind and body were +both completely broken down and he was obliged to remain in +bed, his visits became regular. He sat next to Benda, for Benda +had taken to calling on Daniel now every day and staying with him +until late at night. But Daniel grew quieter and quieter. Sometimes +he would make no reply at all to Benda’s remarks or questions.</p> + +<p>The Goose Man came in behind Dr. Dingolfinger and stood on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</a></span>tiptoes, as curious as curious could be, and looked over his arm +when he wrote out his prescriptions. The Goose Man was a little +fellow: he hardly reached up to the doctor’s hips.</p> + +<p>He hopped around Agnes when she cooked the soup and expressed +his sympathy for her; she looked so pale. Though only thirteen +years old, there was the worried look of a mature woman in her +face; she would cast her eyes around the room as if trying to +catch a glance of human love in the eyes of another person; her +looks were timid and stealthy. “Some one should be caring for her +too,” said the Goose Man, shaking his head, “some one should be +making a good, warm soup for her.”</p> + +<p>Though it would be unfair to say that the Goose Man was +offensively concerned, he seemed to be interested in everything +that was going on in the house. When the officials of the fire +department came to cross-question Daniel about the fire, he became +angry and gruff, and did not wish to let them in. “Give the poor +man some rest, some peace, after all these years of suffering,” he +implored, “give him time to collect himself and to meditate on +what has taken place.” And in fact the members of the fire department +left as soon as possible; they did not stay long.</p> + +<p>The Goose Man was always in a cheerful humour, always ready +for a good joke. At times he would whistle softly, and smooth +out the wrinkles in his doublet. There was a certain amount of +rustic shyness about him, but his affability, his good manners, and +his child-like cheerfulness removed any unpleasant impression this +rusticity might otherwise have made. He generally spoke the dialect +of Nuremberg, though when with Daniel he never spoke anything +but the most correct and chosen High German. His natural, +acquired culture and the wealth of his vocabulary were really +amazing.</p> + +<p>Ten times a day at least he would scamper into the room where +little Gottfried was sleeping and express his admiration for the +pretty child. “How you are to be envied to have such a living +creature crawling and sprawling around in your home!” he said +to Daniel. And in course of time Daniel actually came to have +a new affection for the child.</p> + +<p>As soon as the Goose Man felt perfectly at home in Daniel’s +house, he took to bringing his two geese along with him. He +would place them very circumspectly in a corner of the room. +One evening he was sitting playing with them, when the bell rang. +Andreas Döderlein stormed in, and demanded that some one tell +him where his daughter was.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</a></span></p><p>“Upon my word and honour! An old acquaintance of mine!” +said the Goose Man, laughing and blinking. “I see him nowadays +in the café much more frequently than is good for his health.”</p> + +<p>“I must urgently request you to control yourself,” said Benda, +turning to Andreas Döderlein, and pointed to the bed in which +Daniel was lying.</p> + +<p>“My daughter is not a bad woman. Let people overburdened +with credulity believe that she is bad,” cried Döderlein, with the +expression and in the tone and gesture of the royal Lear, and +shook his Olympian locks. “The fact is that violence has been +practised on her; she has been driven into ruin! Men have stolen +the sweet love of my dearly beloved daughter through the use of +vile tricks and artifices. Where is she, the unfortunate, betrayed +child? With what is she clothing her nakedness, and how is she +finding food and shelter—shelter in a world of wicked men?”</p> + +<p>A strange thing happened: the Goose Man took the gigantic +arm of the Olympian, put his mouth to his beefy ear, and, with +a sad and reproachful look on his face, whispered something to +him. Döderlein turned red and then pale, looked down at the +floor, and went away with heavy, rumbling step but silent lips. +The Goose Man folded his arms across his breast, and looked at +Döderlein thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“He is said to have taken to drinking,” remarked Benda, “is +said to be living a wild, dissipated life. It seems incredible to +me. The Döderleins are generally content to stroll in lust along +the banks of the slimy sea of vice and let other people fall in. +The Döderleins are born in false ermine, and they die in false +ermine.”</p> + +<p>“And yet he is a human being,” said the Goose Man, so that +only Daniel could hear him.</p> + +<p>Daniel sighed.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>It was late at night. Daniel could not sleep. The Goose Man +crouched at his feet on the edge of the bed, and looked at him as +one looks at a dear brother who is suffering intense pain.</p> + +<p>“I cannot deny that it is difficult for you to continue your life,” +said the Goose Man, trying to subdue his bright voice. “When +we sum up your situation, we see day following day, night following +night, and nothing happening that can be a cause for rejoicing. +Everything has been cut off; the threads have all been broken; the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</a></span>foundation on which you built has been completely annihilated. +You are like the mother of many children who loses them all, all +of them, on a single day by one terrible stroke. The labour of +years remains unrewarded; your work has been in vain; in vain the +blood your heart has poured out, the deprivations you have submitted +to; your whole past is like a bad, disordered dream. Oh, I +understand full well; I appreciate your situation. It seems hard, +very hard, to go on and not to despair.”</p> + +<p>Daniel covered his face with his hands and moaned.</p> + +<p>“Have you ever asked yourself how the hand of murder came +to strike you? Ah, this Philippina! This daughter of Jason +Philip! I am almost four hundred years old, but such a person +I have never seen or known. But look back over your past! Do +it just once! Open your eyes; they are pure now and capable of +beholding. Have you not suffered the Devil to live by your side, +to take part in your life? And were you not at the same time +impatient with the angels who spread their wings about you as my +geese spread theirs about me? The Devil has grown fat from +you. The vampire has battened on you, has fed on your blood. +All this comes about when one is unwilling to give, when one +merely takes and takes and takes. That makes the Devil fat; the +vampire becomes greedier with each passing sun. Ah, so many good +genii have fled from you! Many you have frightened away, you, +bewitched, you, enchanted! Well, what now? What next? Hell +has claimed its full booty; Heaven can now open again to your +new-born heart.”</p> + +<p>“There is no Heaven,” groaned Daniel, “there is nothing but +blackness and darkness.”</p> + +<p>“You still breathe, your heart is still beating, you still have +five fingers on each hand,” replied the Goose Man quietly. “He +who has paid his debts is a free man: you have paid yours.”</p> + +<p>“I am my own debt, my own guilt. If I continue to live, I +will sin again. Were I to live over the past, back into the past, +I would contract the same debts.”</p> + +<p>“But there is such a thing as a transformation, and through it +one receives absolution. Turn away from your phantom and become +a human being—and then you can become a creator. If you +once become human, really human, it may be that you will not +need the work, symphony or whatever else you choose to call it. +It may be that power and glory will radiate from you yourself. +For are not all works merely the round-about ways, the detours of +the man himself, merely man’s imperfect attempts to reveal himself? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</a></span>Did you not love a mask of plaster more than the countenances +that shone upon you, the faces that wept about you? Did you +not allow another mask, a thing of the mirror, to get control over +you, and so to besmirch your soul and strike your spirit with +paralysis? How can a man be a creator if he deceives, stunts, and +abbreviates the humanity that is in him? It is not a question of +ability, Daniel Nothafft, it is a question of being, living, being.”</p> + +<p>Daniel tossed his head back and forth on his pillow, writhing +in agony. “Stop!” he gulped, “stop, stop!”</p> + +<p>The Goose Man bent over him, and crouched up nearer to his +body like an animal trying to get warm. “Come out of the convulsion,” +something cried and exhorted within him, “break your +chains! Your music can give men nothing so long as you yourself +are held captive. Feel their distress! Have pity on their unplumbed +loneliness! Behold mankind! Behold it!”</p> + +<p>“There is so much,” replied Daniel in extreme torture, “a +hundred thousand faces bewilder me, a hundred thousand pictures +hem me in. I cannot differentiate; I must flee, flee!”</p> + +<p>There was something inimitably tender, reassuring, and resigned +in what the Goose Man then said: “I speak to you as Christ: +Rise and walk! Rise and go in peace, Daniel! Go with me to +my place. Be <i>me</i> for just one day, from morning to evening, +and <i>I</i> will be <i>you</i>.”</p> + +<p>Daniel got up, and before he was conscious of what he was +doing, he had put on his clothes and was out on the street with +the Goose Man. They crossed the market place, and Daniel, in +a crepuscular state of mind, climbed up, with the help of the +Goose Man, and took his place on the base of the fountain behind +the iron railing. The two geese he took under his arms. He +stood perfectly still, rigid, just like the Goose Man, and waited +in anticipation of the things that were to come.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>But nothing extraordinary happened. Everything that took +place was quite prosaic and obviously a matter of custom.</p> + +<p>The sun rose, and the market women took the cords and covers +from their baskets. Fresh cherries, young pears, and winter apples +shone in all their brilliancy of colour and lent variety to the drab +square. Sparrows picked in the straw that lay on the street. The +sun rose higher; its early red gave way to a midday blue. Clouds +drifted over the roof of the church. The women gossiped. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[464]</a></span>Wagons rattled by, errand boys called to each other, curtains were +drawn from the windows, and men and women looked out to see +what the weather was going to be like. There were sleepy faces +and anxious faces, good faces and bad faces, young and old.</p> + +<p>Maids and humbler housewives came to make their purchases. +They examined the fruit with seasoned care and experienced hand, +and bargained for lower prices. The peasant women praised what +they had, and if their praise was ineffectual, they became abusive. +Once a sale had been made, they would take their balances, put +the weights in one pan and the fruit in another, and never cease +praising what they were selling until they had the money safe in +their pockets. Then they would count over the coins they had +received, and looked at them as if to say: “It is fine to earn money!”</p> + +<p>But those who paid out the money bore the mien of painful +care and solicitude. They seemed to be counting it all up in their +heads; to be taking lessons in mental arithmetic. They would +think over how much it were wise or permissible for them to spend. +The thing that impressed Daniel most of all, and the longer he +stood there the clearer it became to him, was this: Each purchaser +went right up to the very edge of the territory staked out for her, +so to speak, by some mysterious master. This they felt was correct, +certain though they were that to have gone beyond the allotted +limit would have brought swift and irremediable ruin. The money +was paid out with such studied caution, and taken in with such a +sense of victory! There was something touching about it all. This +daily life of these small people seemed so strange, so very strange, +and at the same time so in accord with established order: it seemed +indeed to be a practical visualisation of the sanctity of the law.</p> + +<p>In all the transactions due respect was paid to the formalities of +life, and nothing was veiled. There was fulness, but no confusion; +many words, but no misunderstanding. There were the wares and +there were the coins. The scales showed how much was being +given and how much taken. The fruit wandered from basket to +basket, and human arms carried it home. Each bought as much as +could be paid for; there was no thought of going beyond one’s +means.</p> + +<p>The clock in the tower struck on the hour, and the shadows +moved in a circle about the objects on the square. So it was to-day; +and so it had been four hundred years ago.</p> + +<p>Four hundred years ago the houses stood there just as they stood +to-day, and people, men and women, looked out of the windows, +some with kindly, some with embittered faces.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</a></span></p><p>Is that not Theresa Schimmelweis creeping around the corner? +How old, decrepit, and bent with years! Her hair is stone grey, +her face is like lime. She is poorly dressed; she does not notice +the people she meets. She sees nothing but the full baskets of +fruit; for them she has a greedy eye. And she looks at Daniel +behind the iron fence with an expression of painful astonishment.</p> + +<p>And is that not Frau Hadebusch hobbling along over there! +Though her face is that of a crafty criminal, in her eyes there is +a panicky, terrified look. She has no support other than the +ground beneath her feet; she is a poor, lost soul.</p> + +<p>There comes Alfons Diruf, who retired years ago. He has become +stout and gloomy. He is out for his morning walk along the +city moat. There goes the actor, Edmund Hahn, seeking whom +he may devour. Disease and lust are writ large across his jaded +face. There is the sculptor, Schwalbe. He is secretly buying a +few apples to take home to roast, for otherwise he has nothing +warm to eat. And there is Herr Carovius, ambling along. He +looks like a wandering spirit, dejected and exhausted.</p> + +<p>Beggars pass by, and so do the rich. There are respected people +who are greeted by those who see them; there are outcasts who are +shunned. There are those who are happy and those who are +weighed down with grief. Some hasten and some hesitate. Some +seem to hold fast to their lives as a lover might hold fast to his +fiancée; others will die that same day. One has a child by the +hand, another a woman by the arm. Some drag crimes in their +hearts, others walk upright, free, happy to face the world. One is +being summoned to court as a witness, the other is on his way to +the doctor. One is fleeing from domestic discord, another is +rejoicing over some great good fortune. There is the man who has +lost his purse and the man who is reading a serious letter. One is +on his way to church to pray, another to the café to drown his +sorrows. One is radiant with joy over the business outlook, another +is crushed with poverty. A beautiful girl has on her best dress; a +cripple lies in the gateway. There is a boy who sings a song, and +a matron whose eyes are red with weeping. The baker carries his +bread by, the cobbler his boots. Soldiers are going to the barracks, +workmen are returning from the factory.</p> + +<p>Daniel feels that none of them are strangers to him. He sees +himself in each of them. He is nearer to them while standing on +his elevated position behind the iron railing than he was when he +walked by them on the street. The jet of water that spurts from +him is like fate: it flows and collects in the basin. Eternal wisdom, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</a></span>he feels, is streaming up to him from the fountain below; each hour +becomes a century. However men may be constituted, he is seized +with a supernatural feeling when he looks into their eyes. In all +of their eyes there is the same fire, the same anxiety and the same +prayer; the same loneliness, the same life, the same death. In all +of them he sees the soul of God.</p> + +<p>He himself no longer feels his loneliness; he feels that he has +been distributed among men. His hate has gone, dispelled like so +much smoke. The tones he hears now come rushing up from the +great fountain; and this fountain is fed from the blood of all +those he sees on the market place. Water is something different +now: “It washes clean man’s very soul, and makes it like an angel, +whole.”</p> + +<p>Noon came, and then evening: a day of creation. And when +evening came, a mist settled over the city, and Daniel came down +from his high place at the fountain, set the geese carefully to one +side, and went home. He arrived at the vestibule; he stood in the +door of the room looking out on the court. His eyes beheld a +wonderful sight.</p> + +<p>The Goose Man was sitting playing with Agnes and little Gottfried. +He had cut silhouettes from bright coloured paper and +made them stand up on the table by bending back the edge of the +paper. There he sat, pushing these figures into each other, and +making such droll remarks that Agnes, who had never in her life +really laughed, laughed now with all her heart, and like the child +that she in truth still was.</p> + +<p>Little Gottfried could only prattle and clap his hands. The +Goose Man had placed him on the table. Whenever he made a +false or awkward move, the Goose Man would set him right. He +seemed to be especially skilled at handling and amusing children.</p> + +<p>When Daniel came in, the Goose Man got up and went over +to him, greeted him, and said in a kindly, confidential tone: “Are +you back so soon? We have had such a nice time!”</p> + +<p>In the room, however, there was the same haze that had settled +down over the city when Daniel left the fountain. Agnes and +Gottfried were seized with a terrible fear. The boy began to cry; +Agnes threw her arms around him and cried too.</p> + +<p>Daniel went up to them, and said: “Don’t cry! I’m with you. +You don’t need to cry any more!”</p> + +<p>He sat down on the same seat on which the Goose Man had +been sitting, looked at the tiny paper figures, and, smiling, continued +the game the Goose Man had been playing with them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</a></span></p><p>Gottfried became quiet and Agnes happy.</p> + +<p>“Good-night!” cried the Goose Man, “now I am again myself, +and you are you.”</p> + +<p>He nodded kindly and disappeared.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>That same evening six of Daniel’s pupils came in. They had +heard that he had been removed from his position at the conservatory.</p> + +<p>It was not a mere rumour. Andreas Döderlein had had him +discharged. He was also relieved of his post as organist at St. +Ægydius’s. The scandal with which he had been associated, and +which was by this time known to the entire city, had turned the +church authorities against him.</p> + +<p>The six pupils came into his room where he was playing with his +children. One of them, who had been chosen as their spokesman, +told him that they had made up their minds not to leave him; they +were anxious to have him continue the instruction he had been +giving them.</p> + +<p>They were clever, vivacious young chaps. In their eyes was an +enthusiasm that had not yet been dimmed either by cowardice or +conceit.</p> + +<p>“I am not going to remain in the city,” said Daniel. “I am +planning to return to my native Eschenbach.”</p> + +<p>The pupils looked at each other. Thereupon the speaker remarked: +“We want to go with you.” They all nodded.</p> + +<p>Daniel got up and shook hands with each one of them.</p> + +<p>Two days later, Daniel’s furniture and household belongings +had all been packed. Benda came to say good-bye: his work, his +great duty was calling him.</p> + +<p>At first Benda could hardly realise that Daniel was yet to live +an active life; that there was still a whole life in him; that his +life was not merely the debris of human existence, the ruins of a +heart. But it was true.</p> + +<p>There was about Daniel the expression, the bearing of a man +who had been liberated, unchained. No one could help but notice +it. Though more reticent and laconic than in former days, his +eyes had taken on a new splendour, a renewed brilliancy and +clarity; they were at once serious and cheerful. His mood had +become milder, his face more peaceful.</p> + +<p>The friends shook hands. Benda then left the room slowly, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</a></span>went down the steps slowly, and once out on the street he walked +along slowly: he felt so small, so strangely unimportant.</p> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>Daniel returned to Eschenbach, and moved into the house of +his parents. His pupils took rooms with the residents of the +village.</p> + +<p>He was regarded by the natives as a peculiar individual. They +smiled when they spoke of him, or when they saw him passing +through the streets absorbed in his own thoughts. But it was not a +malicious smile. If there was the faintest tinge of ridicule in it at +first, it soon gave way to a vague feeling of pride.</p> + +<p>He gained a mysterious influence over people with whom he came +in contact; many sought his advice when in trouble. His pupils +especially adored him. He had the gift of holding their attention, +of carrying them along. The means he employed were the very +simplest: his splendid, cheerful personality, the harmony between +what he said and what he did, his earnestness, his humanness, his +resignation to the cause that lay close to his heart, and his own belief +in this cause—those were the means through which and by which +he gained a mysterious influence over those with whom he came in +touch.</p> + +<p>He became a famous teacher; the number of pupils who wished +to study under him increased from year to year. But he admitted +very few of them to his classes. He took only the best; and the +certainty with which he made his selections and differentiated was +wellnigh infallible.</p> + +<p>No inducements of any kind could persuade him to leave the +isolated place where he had elected to live.</p> + +<p>He was almost always in a good humour; he was never distracted; +and the preciseness and sharpness with which he observed +whatever took place was remarkable. The one thing that could +throw him into a rage was to see some one abuse a dumb beast. +Once he got into trouble with a teamster who was beating his skinny +old jade in order to make it pull a load that was far in excess of its +strength. The boys on the street made fun of him; the people +laughed with considerable satisfaction, and said: “Ah, the professor: +he’s a bit off.”</p> + +<p>Agnes kept house for him; she was most faithful in looking out +for his wants. When he would leave the house, she would bring +him his hat and walking stick. Every evening before she went to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</a></span>sleep, he would come in to her and kiss her on the forehead. It +was rare that they spoke with each other, but there was a secret +agreement, a peaceful harmony, between them.</p> + +<p>Gottfried grew up to be a strong, healthy boy. He had Daniel’s +physique and Eleanore’s eyes. Yes, they were the eyes with that +blue fire; and they had Eleanore’s elfin-like chastity and her hatred +of all that is false and simulated. Daniel saw in this a freak of +nature of the profoundest significance. All the laws of blood +seemed unsubstantial and shadowy. His feelings often wandered +between gratitude and astonishment.</p> + +<p>Of Dorothea he heard one day that she was making her living +as a violinist in a woman’s orchestra. He made some inquiries and +traced her as far as Berlin. There he lost her. A few years later +he was told that she had become the mistress of a wealthy country +gentleman in Bohemia, and was driving about in an automobile on +the Riviera.</p> + +<p>He was also informed of the death of Herr Carovius. His last +hours were said to have been very hard: he had kept crying out, +“My flute, give me my flute!”</p> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>In August, 1909, Daniel’s pupils celebrated the fiftieth birthday +of their master. They made him a great number of presents, and +gave him a dinner in the inn at the Sign of the Ox.</p> + +<p>One of his pupils, an extremely handsome young fellow for +whose future Daniel had the highest of hopes, presented him with a +huge bouquet of orange lilies, wild natives of the woods around +Eschenbach. He had gathered them himself, and arranged them in +a costly vase.</p> + +<p>The menu at the dinner was quite frugal; the wine was +Franconian country wine. During the dinner, Daniel rose, took his +glass in his hand, and, with a far-away look in his eyes, said: “I +drink to the health and happiness of a creature who is a stranger +to all of you. She grew up here in Eschenbach. Many years ago +she vanished in a most mysterious way. But I know that she is +alive and happy at this hour.”</p> + +<p>His pupils all raised their glasses. They looked at him, and +were deeply moved by the strength and clarity of his features.</p> + +<p>After the dinner he and his pupils went to the old church. He +had both of the large doors opened so that the bright light of day +might pour in unimpeded. Up in the lofty vaults of the nave,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[470]</a></span> +where all had been dark but a moment ago, there was now a milky +clearness and cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>He went to the organ and began to play. Some men and women +who chanced to be passing by came in and sat down on the benches +with the boys. Then a group of children entered. They tripped +timidly through the open doors, stopped, looked around, and +opened their eyes as wide as children can. Other people came in; +for the tones of the organ had penetrated the humble homes. +They looked up at the organ silently and seriously; for its exalted +melodies had, without their being prepared for it, carried them +away from their everyday existence, and lifted them up above its +abject lowliness.</p> + +<p>The tones grew louder and louder, until they sounded like the +prayer of a heart overflowing with feeling. As the close of the +great hymn drew on, a little girl was heard weeping from among +the uninvited auditors.</p> + +<p>It was Agnes who wept. Had life been fully awakened in her? +Was love calling her out into the unknown? Was the life of her +mother being repeated in her?</p> + +<p>Children grow up and are seized by their fate.</p> + +<p>Toward evening, Daniel took a walk with his nine pupils out +over the meadow. They went quite far. The last song of the +birds had died out, the glow of the sun had turned pale.</p> + +<p>The beautiful youth, then walking by Daniel’s side, said: “And +the work, Master?”</p> + +<p>Daniel merely smiled; his eye roamed over the landscape.</p> + +<p>The landscape shows many shades of green. Around the weirs +the grass is higher, so high at times that one can see nothing of the +geese but their beaks. Were it not for their cackling, one might +take these beaks for strangely mobile flowers.</p> + + +<p class="end">THE END</p> + + + +<div class="note"> +<p><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong> The table below lists all corrections applied to +the original text.</p> + +<ul> +<li><a href="#Page_7">p. 007</a>: [normalized] set up as a book-seller → bookseller</li> +<li><a href="#Page_8">p. 008</a>: the lovely curves of the birdges → bridges</li> +<li><a href="#Page_11">p. 011</a>: [normalized] he slipt into the Festival Playhouse → slipped</li> +<li><a href="#Page_11">p. 011</a>: [normalized] acquaintance of Andreas Döberlein → Döderlein</li> +<li><a href="#Page_11">p. 011</a>: [normalized] Döberlein seemed not disinclined → Döderlein</li> +<li><a href="#Page_14">p. 014</a>: [normalized] little, eight-year old daughter → eight-year-old</li> +<li><a href="#Page_17">p. 017</a>: [normalized] Theresa said to the working-man → workingman</li> +<li><a href="#Page_18">p. 018</a>: fiercely red pamphets spread out → pamphlets</li> +<li><a href="#Page_23">p. 023</a>: [normalized] a room of the brushmaker Hadebusch → brush-maker</li> +<li><a href="#Page_24">p. 024</a>: Frau Hadesbusch wailed → Hadebusch</li> +<li><a href="#Page_24">p. 024</a>: [normalized] The old brushmaker poked his head → brush-maker</li> +<li><a href="#Page_46">p. 046</a>: status of the artistocracy → aristocracy</li> +<li><a href="#Page_47">p. 047</a>: [normalized] he indulged in eaves-dropping → eavesdropping</li> +<li><a href="#Page_48">p. 048</a>: [normalized] as a fourteen-year old girl → fourteen-year-old</li> +<li><a href="#Page_54">p. 054</a>: no sooner had be seen her → he</li> +<li><a href="#Page_57">p. 057</a>: seemed to be similiarly situated → similarly</li> +<li><a href="#Page_65">p. 065</a>: [normalized] the seventeen-year old boy → seventeen-year-old</li> +<li><a href="#Page_67">p. 067</a>: flatter the leader and politican → politician</li> +<li><a href="#Page_67">p. 067</a>: [normalized] socialist book-keeper → bookkeeper</li> +<li><a href="#Page_67">p. 067</a>: Her shrieks called Herr Franke → Francke</li> +<li><a href="#Page_84">p. 084</a>: [missing period] took the artist’s part.</li> +<li><a href="#Page_94">p. 094</a>: [normalized] she was in her nightgown → night-gown</li> +<li><a href="#Page_95">p. 095</a>: clasped Eleanor about the hips → Eleanore</li> +<li><a href="#Page_95">p. 095</a>: stepped back from her, terror stricken → terror-stricken</li> +<li><a href="#Page_101">p. 101</a>: The venemous and eloquent hatred → venomous</li> +<li><a href="#Page_105">p. 105</a>: [normalized] fell head-long to the floor → headlong</li> +<li><a href="#Page_107">p. 107</a>: [added comma] and if you want to, why you can come → why, you</li> +<li><a href="#Page_121">p. 121</a>: meant at the time by “having a child,” → ‘having a child,’</li> +<li><a href="#Page_122">p. 122</a>: [added comma] Why the arithmetic of it → Why, the</li> +<li><a href="#Page_123">p. 123</a>: [normalized] fixed on a ten-year old girl → ten-year-old</li> +<li><a href="#Page_124">p. 124</a>: [normalized] right under my bed-room → bedroom</li> +<li><a href="#Page_125">p. 125</a>: crystallised by artifical means → artificial</li> +<li><a href="#Page_127">p. 127</a>: [normalized] voice that the passers-by simpered → passersby</li> +<li><a href="#Page_130">p. 130</a>: rather die, they said, then meet → than meet</li> +<li><a href="#Page_131">p. 131</a>: she could play the role of an emissary → rôle</li> +<li><a href="#Page_132">p. 132</a>: [normalized] Eschenbach at mid-day → midday</li> +<li><a href="#Page_133">p. 133</a>: [normalized] unusually large eye-brows → eyebrows</li> +<li><a href="#Page_136">p. 136</a>: their retinue was seedy looking indeed → seedy-looking</li> +<li><a href="#Page_136">p. 136</a>: dozen or so super-numaries → super-numeraries</li> +<li><a href="#Page_145">p. 145</a>: [normalized] pleasing, faraway look in her eyes → far-away</li> +<li><a href="#Page_153">p. 153</a>: [normalized] character of the book-seller → bookseller</li> +<li><a href="#Page_154">p. 154</a>: [normalized] with heartrending dignity → heart-rending</li> +<li><a href="#Page_162">p. 162</a>: [comma missing ink] “Where are you going, my dear friend?”</li> +<li><a href="#Page_163">p. 163</a>: he liked to breathe the air that Eberhard dreamed → breathed</li> +<li><a href="#Page_169">p. 169</a>: [normalized] weatherbeaten by the storms → weather-beaten</li> +<li><a href="#Page_169">p. 169</a>: something childlike in his restlessness → child-like</li> +<li><a href="#Page_176">p. 176</a>: from the land of no-where → nowhere</li> +<li><a href="#Page_180">p. 180</a>: [normalized] this over-crowded room → overcrowded</li> +<li><a href="#Page_183">p. 183</a>: the words of the “Herzreise” → “Harzreise”</li> +<li><a href="#Page_183">p. 183</a>: voice of the painter Krapotkin → Kropotkin</li> +<li><a href="#Page_186">p. 186</a>: Gertrude was pealing potatoes → peeling</li> +<li><a href="#Page_191">p. 191</a>: but twenty pfennigs’ worth of sweets → buy</li> +<li><a href="#Page_197">p. 197</a>: [added closing quotes] “I think he is. If not, I will get him.”</li> +<li><a href="#Page_202">p. 202</a>: light hearted and light footed → light-hearted and light-footed</li> +<li><a href="#Page_212">p. 212</a>: [normalized] appeared in the _Phoenix_ → _Phœnix_</li> +<li><a href="#Page_215">p. 215</a>: [normalized] her well-nigh supernatural ability → wellnigh</li> +<li><a href="#Page_215">p. 215</a>: [normalized] a serious, far-a-way warning → far-away</li> +<li><a href="#Page_227">p. 227</a>: threw it at Fraülein Varini → Fräulein</li> +<li><a href="#Page_253">p. 253</a>: [normalized] passersby and onlookers → on-lookers</li> +<li><a href="#Page_257">p. 257</a>: Eleanor’s example was equally great → Eleanore’s</li> +<li><a href="#Page_275">p. 275</a>: the greatest atraction for her → attraction</li> +<li><a href="#Page_297">p. 297</a>: potato pealings → peelings</li> +<li><a href="#Page_300">p. 300</a>: [normalized] just stepped out of a band-box → bandbox</li> +<li><a href="#Page_300">p. 300</a>: That old white bearded man → white-bearded</li> +<li><a href="#Page_301">p. 301</a>: [punctuation] interrupted Philippina with a giggle, → giggle.</li> +<li><a href="#Page_304">p. 304</a>: his nose was as flat as a pan-cake → pancake</li> +<li><a href="#Page_313">p. 313</a>: You probaby think I am an idiotic simpleton → probably</li> +<li><a href="#Page_317">p. 317</a>: [normalized] hiring out as a mid-wife → midwife</li> +<li><a href="#Page_320">p. 320</a>: [normalized] the sound of foot-steps → footsteps</li> +<li><a href="#Page_326">p. 326</a>: at most an inadquate light → inadequate</li> +<li><a href="#Page_327">p. 327</a>: rid himself completely of all entangements → entanglements</li> +<li><a href="#Page_331">p. 331</a>: That is the way our childer are → children</li> +<li><a href="#Page_333">p. 333</a>: Count Ulrich had asked for her hand → Urlich</li> +<li><a href="#Page_338">p. 338</a>: more and more strange and izarre → bizarre</li> +<li><a href="#Page_340">p. 340</a>: his shabby old yellow rain-coat → raincoat</li> +<li><a href="#Page_346">p. 346</a>: a vague, faraway idea of music → far-away</li> +<li><a href="#Page_358">p. 358</a>: passsionately absorbed in himself → passionately</li> +<li><a href="#Page_360">p. 360</a>: [normalized] and a long law-suit → lawsuit</li> +<li><a href="#Page_360">p. 360</a>: establishment in the Plobenhaf Street → Plobenhof</li> +<li><a href="#Page_364">p. 364</a>: with some hesistation → hesitation</li> +<li><a href="#Page_378">p. 378</a>: [normalized] A neighbour, the green grocer → green-grocer</li> +<li><a href="#Page_397">p. 397</a>: unsually attentive expression → unusually</li> +<li><a href="#Page_411">p. 411</a>: [normalized] the next day to a school-mate → schoolmate</li> +<li><a href="#Page_424">p. 424</a>: [punctuation] sleep longer.” Dorothea answered → longer,”</li> +<li><a href="#Page_426">p. 426</a>: [added period] concerned themselves about him in the slightest.</li> +<li><a href="#Page_441">p. 441</a>: [normalized] try to brow-beat me → browbeat</li> +<li><a href="#Page_444">p. 444</a>: bent dawn, stretched out her arm → down</li> +<li><a href="#Page_461">p. 461</a>: The Döderlins are born in false ermine → Döderleins</li> +<li><a href="#Page_464">p. 464</a>: [added period] going beyond one’s means.</li> +<li><a href="#Page_466">p. 466</a>: Little Gootfried could only prattle → Gottfried</li> +</ul> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Goose Man, by Jacob Wassermann + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOOSE MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 25345-h.htm or 25345-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/3/4/25345/ + +Produced by Markus Brenner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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