The Sleepwalkers (79 page)

TRANSFORMATION
Before
ESCH’S
house. The
MAJOR
and
HUGUENAU

Huguenau, jerking his thumb towards the window of the Eschs’ bedroom:

“Now they’re getting into bed. Esch could very well have stayed with us a little longer … but she knows what she’s after.… Hm, will the Herr Major permit me to accompany him for a few steps? A little exercise does one good.”

They go through the silent medieval streets. The house entries are like black holes. In one of them, pressed against the door, stand a pair of lovers, from another a dog detaches itself and runs on three legs up the street; at the corner it vanishes. Behind some of the windows a faint light is still burning—but what is happening behind the unlighted ones? perhaps a dead man is lying there, stretched out on his bed, his peaked nose in the air, and the coverlet makes a little tent over his upward-pointing toes. Both the Major and Huguenau gaze up at the windows, and Huguenau would like to ask the Major if he too cannot help thinking of dead men,—but the Major walks on in silence, almost as though he were troubled; probably his thoughts are with Esch, Huguenau tells himself, and he is indignant that Esch should go to bed with his wife and so trouble the good old chap’s mind. But devil take it, why should the Major be troubled at all? he makes friends with Esch on the spot instead of keeping that officious hypocrite at arm’s-length! A nice friendship, that, between the two of them, between these
two fine gentlemen who evidently have forgotten that without him they would never have met each other; who was it, then, that had a prior right to the Major? and if the Major was troubled now, it served him right. More than that, according to his deserts he should be a good deal more troubled, and along with his beloved Herr Esch the Herr Major ought to suffer richly for his treachery.… Huguenau stopped short—a daring and seductive idea had arisen before him with clairvoyant lucidity: the idea of entering into a new and venturous relation with the Major that would enable him in a manner of speaking to betray Esch, at present lying with his wife, with the Major, and to land the Major himself in a humiliating situation! yes, a brilliant, a promising idea, and Huguenau said:

“The Herr Major will remember my first report in which I described my visit to the ki …” Huguenau clapped his hand over his mouth, “pardon, the public brothel. Herr Esch is sleeping respectably in his matrimonial bed now, but he made one of the party that night, all the same. Since then I’ve been investigating the matter further, and I think I’ve found a clue. I would like to have another glance into the place … if the Herr Major is interested in the matter and in, how shall I put it, the most interesting milieu, I would most respectfully suggest that he should make a visit of inspection.”

The Major let his gaze run once more over the window fronts, over the house doors, which looked like entries to black cellar-caves, and then, to Huguenau’s surprise, he said without further ado: “Let us go.”

They turned back, for the house lay in the opposite direction and outside the town. The Major again strode on in silence beside Huguenau, he looked perhaps even more troubled than before, and Huguenau, greatly as he longed for a light and confidential tone, dared not even risk starting a conversation. But a still worse disappointment awaited him: when they reached the house, over whose portal a great red lantern shone, the Major abruptly said “No” and held out his hand. And when Huguenau stared at him dumbfounded, he gave a forced smile: “I think you’d better make your researches by yourself to-night.” The old man turned back once more towards the town. Huguenau gazed after him in rage and bitterness; but then he remembered Esch, shrugged his shoulders, and opened the door.

He left the house in less than an hour. His spirits had improved; the fear that had weighed upon him was gone, he had put something right,
and although he could not have given it a name, yet he felt definitely that he had retrieved his personality and his clear common sense. The others could do what they liked, they could give him the cold shoulder, he snapped his fingers at them. He stepped out vigorously, a Salvation Army song that he must have heard somewhere came into his mind, and with every step he beat time with his walking-stick on the ground to the words: “Lord God of Sabaoth.”

Victory Celebration of “The Moselle Memorial Association” in the beer-hall “Stadthalle” in commemoration of the Battle of Tannenberg

Jaretzki was prowling about in the garden of the “Stadthalle.” In the big hall they were dancing. Of course one could dance even lacking an arm, but Jaretzki felt shy. He was glad to find Sister Mathilde standing at one of the doors of the dancing-hall:

“So you’re not dancing either, Sister?”

“Of course I’m dancing; shall we have a try, Lieutenant Jaretzki?”

“Until I get that thingummy-jig, that artificial arm, there’s nothing much I can do … except drinking and smoking … will you have a cigarette, Sister Mathilde?”

“Why, what are you thinking of? I’m here on duty.”

“I see, it’s duty that makes you offer to dance. Then duty bids you take pity on a poor one-armed cripple … do sit down and bear me company for a little.”

Jaretzki sat down somewhat heavily at the nearest table.

“Do you enjoy all this, Sister?”

“Yes, it’s very nice.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“But the crowd are enjoying themselves, one mustn’t grudge them their pleasure.”

“Look here, Sister, perhaps I’m a little muzzy as it is … but that doesn’t matter.… I tell you that this war can never stop … or what do you think?”

“Why, it must stop some time or other.…”

“What shall we do with ourselves then, when there’s no more war … when no more cripples are turned out for you to nurse?”

Sister Mathilde considered:

“After the war … well, you know yourself what you’re thinking of doing then. You told me of some job you’ve been offered.…”

“With me it’s different … I’ve been at the Front … I’ve killed people … forgive me, it sounds a bit confused perhaps, but it’s quite clear to me all the same … for me it’s all over … but there are all those others …” he waved his hand towards the garden, “they must all face the music yet … the Russians are supposed to be forming women’s battalions already.…”

“The things you say are quite terrifying, Lieutenant Jaretzki.”

“Me? not at all … I’m finished with the whole business.… I’ll go back home … find myself a wife … night after night the same one … no more philandering … I’m afraid I must be a little drunk, Sister, … but you see it isn’t good for a man to be alone, it isn’t good for a man to be alone … it says so in the Bible. And you think a great deal of the Bible, Sister, what?”

“What do you say, Lieutenant Jaretzki, wouldn’t you like to go back to the hospital now? Some of our people are wanting to leave … you could go with them.…”

She felt his alcoholic breath on her face:

“I tell you this, Sister, that the war can’t stop because every man out there has found himself alone … because one after another, they all find themselves alone … and every man who is all alone must kill some other man … you think I’ve drunk too much, Sister, but you know I can carry a lot … no reason at all for sending me to bed … but it’s true, what I’ve been telling you.”

He got up:

“Funny music, what? … God knows what kind of dancing this is, but shall we watch it for a little?”

Dr Ernst Pelzer, the volunteer from the trench mortar division, ran slap into Huguenau in one of the hall doorways:

“Hey, look out, Herr Grand Master of Ceremonies … you’re a regular whirlwind … chasing the ladies, as usual?”

Huguenau did not listen at all; with beaming importance he indicated two gentlemen in dress-suits who had just come into the garden:

“The Burgomaster has arrived!”

“Aha—flying after higher game … well, good hunting to you, tally-ho! and yoicks! and all the rest of it, my noble sportsman.…”

“Thanks, thanks, Herr Doctor”; Huguenau, who had not heard a word, cried his thanks over his shoulder and was already getting into position for the official speech of welcome.

Surgeon-Major Kühlenbeck should really have been sitting at the table of honour. But he did not remain there long.

“Let joy be unconfined,” he said, “we are mercenaries in a conquered town.”

He steered for a group of young girls. He carried his head high, his beard stuck almost horizontally into the air. As he passed Fusilier Kneese, who was leaning, sad and bored, against a tree, he clapped him on the shoulder: “Well, mourning still for your appendix? You’re fine soldiers, I must say, you’re here to get the women with child.… I’m ashamed of such milksops … forward, my lad!”

“Very well, sir,” said Kneese, standing to attention.

Kühlenbeck hooked himself on to Berta Kringel, squeezing her arm to his ribs:

“I’ll dance a round with you all … the one that dances best will get a kiss.”

The girls shrieked. Berta Kringel tried to free herself. But when he enclosed her stub-fingered hand in his soft masculine fist, he felt her fingers growing weak and nestling into his.

“So you won’t dance … you’re all afraid of me, that’s what it is … all right, I’ll take you over to the tombola … children like to play at such games.”

Lisbeth Wöger cried:

“You’re only poking fun at us again, Herr Kühlenbeck … a Surgeon-Major doesn’t dance.”

“Well, Lisbeth, you’ll come to know me better yet.”

And Surgeon-Major Kühlenbeck captured Lisbeth too by the arm.

While they were standing at the tombola-table, Frau Paulsen the wife of the apothecary Paulsen approached, took her stand beside Dr Kühlenbeck, and whispered with pale lips:

“Aren’t you ashamed … with these callow creatures.…”

The huge man gazed at her a little apprehensively from behind his glasses; then he laughed;