The Sleepwalkers (93 page)

It is almost a matter of no account how far Marguerite will penetrate, whether she will ever be brought back or whether she will fall a prey to some wandering tramp—the sleepwalking of the infinite has seized upon her and never more will let her go.

The Bible readings were now badly attended. The urgency of external events drew men’s attention away from what was happening in their own souls, and that applied especially to strangers, who lent a ready ear to every rumour that conveyed the possibility of their imminent return home. The townsmen were more constant; the Bible class had already become for them a part of the established order which they wished to preserve independently of war or peace, and in some corner of himself each of them was secretly disturbed rather than pleased by the rumours of peace.

Fendrich and Samwald were natives of the town and were amongst the most faithful. Huguenau, indeed, asserted that Fendrich only came because Frau Esch had always milk in the house; he even went so far as to complain that he was skimped of his breakfast coffee because Frau Esch wanted to save the milk for the pious Fendrich. And he said this not only behind her back; but Frau Esch laughed at him: “Fancy being so jealous as that, Herr Huguenau,” and Huguenau retorted: “You just look out, Mother Esch, or your husband’s canting crew will eat you out of house and home.” Huguenau’s reproaches, however, were unjust; Fendrich would have come even without the milk-coffee.

In any case there they were again in the kitchen, both Samwald and Fendrich. Huguenau, who had just made ready to go out, stuck his nose in at the door: “Having a good guzzle?” Frau Esch answered for them: “Oh, I haven’t a thing in the house.” Huguenau eyed them both to see if they were chewing, and glanced at the table, but on assuring himself that there was no food set out he was quite satisfied. “Then I can leave you with a good conscience,” he said, “you’re in the best of company, Mother Esch.” Yet he did not go; he was anxious to find out what she was saying to them. But they were all silent, so he began to talk himself: “Where’s your friend to-day, Herr Samwald? the one with the sticks?” Samwald indicated the window which was rattling in the wind: “When the weather’s bad he has aches and pains … he feels it beforehand.” “Oh, la la,” said Huguenau, “rheumatism; yes, that’s a trial.” Samwald shook his head: “No, he feels changes beforehand … he knows lots of things beforehand.” Huguenau was only half listening: “Of course, it might be gout.” Fendrich shivered a little: “I can feel it too
in all my bones … in our factory there are more than twenty down with ’flu … old Petri’s daughter died yesterday … there have been some deaths in the hospital, too. Esch say it’s the plague … the lung plague.” Huguenau was disgusted: “He should be more careful with his defeatist arguments.… Plague! That would be a fine thing, indeed.” Samwald said: “As for Gödicke, even the plague couldn’t touch him … he has been raised from the dead.” Fendrich had still more to add on the subject: “According to the Bible all the plagues of the Apocalypse are bound to come now … the Major prophesied that too … so did Esch.” “Merde, I’ve had enough of this,” said Huguenau, “I wish you a very merry meeting. Salut.”

On the stairway he met Esch: “Two of your jolly companions are sitting waiting for you up there … if the whole town starts babbling of the plague it’ll be your fault … you and your canting crew will send the whole world crazy, you’re just making people besotted.” Esch showed his strong teeth and waved his hand airily, which provoked Huguenau: “There’s nothing to grin at, Sir Reverend.” To his surprise Esch became serious at once: “You’re right, this is no time for laughing … the two up there are quite right.” Huguenau felt uncomfortable: “How are they right? … about the plague, for instance?” Esch said quietly: “Yes, and it would be better for you, yes, for you, my dear sir, if you were to realize at last that we’re in the midst of fear and tribulation.…” “I’d like to know what good that could do me,” said Huguenau, and began to continue his way downstairs. Esch had his schoolmastering voice: “I could soon enlighten you on that, but you don’t want to find out … you’re afraid to find out.…” Huguenau turned round. Esch was standing two steps above him and looked hugely powerful; it was annoying to have to look up at him like that, and Huguenau hopped up a step again. Suspicion was awakening in him again. What was it that Esch was keeping to himself? What could he know? But when Esch went on: “Only he who is in tribulation will partake of grace …” Huguenau stopped him: “Here, I want to listen to no more of that.…” Again Esch displayed his abominable sarcastic grin: “Didn’t I tell you? it doesn’t suit your new change of front … in fact, it has never suited you.”

And he turned to continue his ascent.

There was a lightning flash behind Huguenau’s eyeglasses:

“One moment, Herr Esch.…”

Esch paused.

“Yes, Herr Esch, I’ve something to say to you … of course that drivel doesn’t suit me … grin if you like, it never has suited me.…I’ve always been a Freethinker and never made any secret of it.… I’ve never interfered with your canting piety, so you’ll kindly leave me to find happiness in my own fashion … you can call it a new change of front for all I care, and you can come nosing behind me too if you like, as you’ve evidently been doing, and I’m no demagogue either like you, and I don’t make people into besotted fools as you do, I’m not ambitious, but when I hear what’s being said, not by your hypocrites upstairs, of course not, but by other people, then I think it’s likely that things will take a very different turn from what you expect, Herr Reverend.… I mean, you’re going to see strange things, and you’ll see some people strung up on lamp-posts too … if the Major hadn’t taken it into his head to be angry with me I would give him a friendly warning, I’m a decent chap, I am … he’s got his back up against you, too, the doddering old fool, but all the same I’m giving you the chance of passing on the warning. You see, I play with all my cards on the table: I don’t stab people in the back like some others I know.”

And with that he turned at last to go and tramped whistling down the stairs. Afterwards he was annoyed with himself for having been so good-natured—there was no reason why he should feel that he owed anything to the Herren Pasenow and Esch—why on earth had he warned them, and of what?

Esch stood still for a moment. He felt for some reason struck to the heart. Then he said to himself: “A man who sacrifices himself must be a decent chap.” And although one couldn’t put it past Huguenau to commit any abomination, yet so long as he blustered so much it was all right: dogs that bark don’t bite. Let him jaw in the public-houses as much as he liked, it wouldn’t hurt anybody, least of all the Major. Esch smiled, he stood firm and strong on his feet, and then he stretched his arms like one who awakes from sleep or is nailed on a cross. He felt strong, firm and robust, and as if it were an entry settling the world’s account he repeated: “A man who sacrifices himself must be a decent chap,” then he pushed open the door of the kitchen.

What Huguenau had prophesied actually came to pass: one did see strange things, and these strange things took place on the 3rd and 4th of November.

On the morning of the 2nd of November a small demonstration was made by the workers from the paper factory. It proceeded, as such processions always do, towards the Town Hall, but this time, really for no particular reason, the windows were smashed in. The Major called out the half-company which still remained at his disposal, and the demonstrators dispersed. Nevertheless the ensuing calm was only on the surface. The town was filled with rumours; the collapse of the German front was known, but nobody could ascertain if there were any negotiations for an armistice, and terrible things hung in the air.

So the day passed. In the evening a red glare could be seen in the west and it was said that all Trier was in flames. Huguenau, who regretted now that he had not long since sold the paper to the communists, resolved to run off a special edition, but his two workers were nowhere to be found. During the night there was firing in the neighbourhood of the prison. The rumour went that it had been a signal inciting the prisoners to a revolt. Later the information was divulged that a prison warder had let off several alarm shots on account of a misunderstanding; but nobody believed it.

Meantime morning had come, cold, foggy and winter-like. Already by seven the town council had assembled in the unheated, faintly lit, panelled council-chamber; the arming of respectable citizens was universally demanded—but on the objection, which became stronger and stronger, that this might be interpreted as a provocative step against the workers, the formation of a Civil Guard which should include workers and middle class alike was decided upon. There arose certain difficulties with the Town Commandant regarding the giving out of rifles from the stock in the munition stores, but finally—almost over the Major’s head—the arms were requisitioned. Naturally there was no time left for a systematic levy, and so a committee under the chairmanship of the Burgomaster was chosen, which was to be responsible for the distribution
of arms. That morning rifles were already being given out to all those who could prove that they were citizens of the town and could use a gun, and as things had reached that stage the Town Commandant could no longer refuse the collaboration of the military with the Civil Guard; the allocation of posts was already being made from the Commandant’s office.

Esch and Huguenau had reported as a matter of course. Esch, resolved above all to remain near the Major, asked urgently to be employed within the town. He was put on night service, while Huguenau had to stand guard on the bridge during the afternoon.

Huguenau sat on the stone parapet of the bridge and shivered in the November fog. His rifle with its bayonet fixed leant beside him. Grass grew between the stone blocks of the parapet, and Huguenau occupied himself in plucking it out. One could also unloosen ancient pieces of mortar from between the stones and then let them drop into the water. He was intensely bored and found the whole affair stupid. The upturned collar of his recently purchased overcoat chafed roughly against his neck and chin and gave no warmth. Out of pure boredom he satisfied the calls of nature, but that also was presently over, and he merely sat there again. It was stupid to sit there with the silly green band on one’s sleeve, and cold besides. And he considered whether he should not step over to the brothel—for the Major’s order closing it had not had the slightest effect; it now ran a secret trade.

He was just picturing to himself that the old dame in the brothel must have put on the fires by this time and that it would be beautifully warm in there, when Marguerite appeared before him. Huguenau was glad to see her:

“Tiens,” he said, “what are you doing here.… I thought you had run away … what have you done with the mark I gave you?”

Marguerite did not reply.

Huguenau felt he would be happier in the brothel:

“You’re no use to me … you’re not fourteen yet … see that you get safely home.”

Nevertheless he took her on his knee; it was warmer. After a while he asked: “Have you got on your warm knickers?” When she said yes he felt reassured. They snuggled closely to each other. The Town Hall clock rang through the fog; five o’clock, and how dark it was already.

“Short days,” said Huguenau, “another year going past already.”

A second clock followed with four and then five strokes. Huguenau grew more and more melancholy. What was the use of all this? what was he doing here? over there across the fields lay Esch’s place, and Huguenau spat in a wide arc in its direction. But then a sudden fear clutched him; he had left the door of the printing-shed wide open, and if there should be any looting that day they would smash his machine to pieces.

“Get down,” he said roughly to Marguerite, and when she hesitated he boxed her ears. Hastily he searched his pockets for the printing-shed key. Should he himself return or should he send Marguerite with the key to Frau Esch?

He was almost on the point of deserting his post and betaking himself home when he shrank back, for now there came a real terror that pierced him to the marrow; on the edge of the forest there was a dazzling flash, followed the next moment by a frightful detonation. He was just able to realize that it came from the barracks of the trench mortar company where some fool must have exploded what remained of the ammunition, but he at once instinctively flung himself down and was wise enough to remain lying on the ground to await further explosions. Right enough, two more violent detonations followed at short intervals and then the din subsided into a sporadic crackle.