XXIX.
Again I went to the street of the Tigers.
A defence-corps man in front of me, a defence-corps man behind me. But they did not know their way about the streets of the Josefstadt, and so I took over the command. To the right,—straight along,—to the left. They felt the comic aspect of their mission, and explained that they were from the opposite part of the city, from Simmering. Here they had never been in their lives before.
It was a fine day, it was warm,—but I should rather have remained in my gloomy cell. Everything here was so strange to me, everything was so objectionable,—only there was I at home. Why were they dragging me out, what was this excursion for? Some visitor under Frank's supervision, a visitor who would again unwittingly show me how I was sinking,—what for? I knew that myself, I felt it, why then display me to the people? and give him, Frank, an opportunity of gloating over my sick appearance?
We had arrived. On the third storey they handed me over to Frank.
Frank, correct, spruce, clean-shaven, informed me dryly that there was a visitor for me: he took out his watch,—in ten minutes they would be there.
And he immersed himself in some document or other.
His secretary clattered with a typewriter. In the room there was a buzzing of flies: through the open window the noisy breath of the city entered.
A knock,—Madam M. L. entered. In her hand she again carried roses.Frank stood up. He looked at me, smiled with that smile of his, at which the golden strips in his white teeth glistened, and announced in a coldly dry voice as if he were reading a verdict: "Would you please see that today's visit is as short as possible. Perhaps you would be so good as to arrange only the next meeting, for Mr. M. will be set at liberty tomorrow, at the latest the day after tomorrow,—today is Friday, so that will be on Sunday. I have already had the order submitted to the military commander for signature."
He continued to look at me,—and in this look was contained everything: Mild reproaches that I had been unfair to him, quiet satisfaction at the joyful news, the triumph of an unknown person who can at last reveal himself in his true form,—a human being, really a human being. So my inner voice had not deceived me,—from our first meeting I had felt drawn towards him, but I had let my reason stifle this feeling, and endeavoured even insulting to him; and I was so,—yet all the while this letter of the law contained a soul, this personification of a sub-section contained a heart. A human being, a human being.
But Madam M. L. sat down without a word, as if she did not know whether to believe it, and when she began to believe it, as if she did not know whether it was all a dream or not. And in her face she had, strangely enough, an expression of painful surprise. (Later on she admitted to me that she had heard only the tone of Frank's voice but not his words, and from the tone of it she had felt that my situation had become more acute).
But I preserved my composure; not even with the flicker of an eyelash did I show that I was astonished, stirred with emotion; I felt that this role with Frank must be played to the end in the style in which it had been begun.And in order that Madam M. L. might regain her composure, I related to her the anecdote with which Mr. Goldenstein had entertained me the day before. How a Polish Jew wanted to get married, how the "Schadchen"[1] found him a bride,—beautiful, rich, in touch with the best circles, her mother well educated, but her father no longer alive. The bridegroom, however, soon found out that her father was in jail. But the worthy Schadchen" was not to be disconcerted: In jail? And do you call that being alive? You see, this Jew was right; being in jail,—that is no life. It will be better when I am outside. So please remain in Vienna for another day or two, until I am set at liberty; the official thinks that it will be tomorrow or the day after tomorrow,—then I will gratefully accept today's roses.
Frank saw that I was helping Madam M. L. from some astonishment which he had caused her, and he excused himself for not having prepared her for it; she should pardon him for not having done so, for—Madam M. L. burst out laughing.
"Could you tell me, sir, whether Dr. Sieghart intervened on my behalf?" I asked Frank.
"Nobody, nobody whatever. Just as nobody can take the credit for having brought you here," (he uttered this sentence with emphasis, and I thought to myself: Aha, a supplement to the conversation with Dr. Šámal), "so nobody was the cause of your leaving here. Everything came about by a natural process in accordance with the law. I ascertained that your statements were correct, and I took steps for you to be set at liberty."
"So it was you alone?"
"Oh no" he said deprecatingly, "the law just took its course."I went away with my corporal, and the only thought which passed through my soul was: Thank God that is was not Sieghart. It might have been. Easily. For throughout the period of persecution he was in touch with the Minister of War and National Defence,—they often used to be his evening guests in the Teinfaltstrasse,—he might have spoken a word and I should have been at liberty; thank God that he did not speak. After the arrest of Kramář I went to him to intervene (it was then that his secretary received me), and at that time I did not yet know that he was one of the main instigators of our Czech persecution,—I would have been willing to be under an obligation to anybody else but him. And so l was not,—oh, excellent Frank!
I conducted my defence-corps men back to arrest. The sun, the good sun warmed me, the mild air fondled me,—good heavens, are the hours really numbered to the time I shall be able to pass through this street, a free man, unrestricted by time and space? The street was filled with bustle, its signs of life flitted before my eyes, and I should be able to plunge into these waves and swim where and how I pleased.
We arrived home, they wanted to hand me over to the superintendent, but nobody could be seen anywhere. The door to number 59 was open, there were throngs of uniforms inside. Shouting, talking,—and outside Mr. Kranz was hopping from one foot to the other with a devilish smile; he waved his hands and beckoned me to come and listen.
What was happening? A cross-examination. There was a Lieutenant-Colonel, three Governors, a superintendent, warders. The Lieutenant-Colonel was making ready for an utterance of thunder,—the Governors were cross-examining, somebody was replying, and Mr. Kranz expounded to me the main features of this drama: The examining superintendent had come upon the tracks of one of his censorists who was corresponding with his wife trough the advertisement section of the "Neues Wiener Tagblatt". He complained of the "conditions in the sanatorium", of the "insufficient food", hoped that "the physician in charge" would soon release him, assured "his dear wife and children of his undiminished love", asked her to send him money because "it is expensive here", and it was necessary to give "tips to the servants" on every occasion,—and a whole lot of similar effusions which could have been written on any postcard. As, however, the Governor had made correspondence difficult for the censorists, the incarcerated Hebrew had hit upon this method, not unfamiliar in ordinary life, but here extremely unusual, and the gentlemen would have liked to know how he had managed it.
"Is there anybody here who has the "Neues Wiener Tagblatt"? asked the Governor.
Silence.
"Has anybody here the "Neues Wiener Tagblatt"? repeated Lieutenant-Colonel Werner sharply.
Again silence.
"Search the room" ordered the Governor.
The search did not take long. The superintendent thrust his hand beneath the nearest straw mattress and drew out,—the "Neues Wiener Tagblatt".
"Who has read this paper?" the Governor could be heard asking.
"Yes, who has read it?" thundered the Lieutenant-Colonel. Somebody came forward: "I did".
"Who gave it to you?"
"Mauthner.""Mauthner, who did you get the paper from?"
"From Goldenstein."
"Goldenstein, whose paper is it?"
"I got it from Kohn."
"Good heavens, what tools these Jews are. They answer like idiots" remarked Mr. Kranz to me in a contemptuous whisper.
"Kohn, who gave you the paper?" continued the cross-examination.
"I,—I got it from an orderly: From the young one with the blue cap."
"Bring the orderly with the blue cap." thundered the Lieutenant-Colonel.
Schmied, our warder, flew out, dashed into number 58, and dragged the orderly with the blue cap to the cross-examination. A lad of eighteen or nineteen years, with the expression of a thorough-paced rogue.
"Who did you get the Neues Wiener Tagblatt from?" The question was bellowed from the lips of the Lieutenant-Colonel.
And the orderly promptly confessed: "I put three cigarettes on the window-ledge of the closet, go back half an hour later, and the Neues Wiener Tagblatt is lying there in their place. That's all I know." The room was silent. As if everybody's supply of wisdom and superiority had given out. At my side Mr. Kranz was hopping about with joy from one foot to the other, and was rubbing his hands.
There was a rattle of swords. "Let's clear off, they've finished. They're coming out" and Mr. Kranz was already at the other end of the passage with his broom in his hands.
| — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — |
Number 60 received the news of my departure with undisguised lack of approval. In particular, the censorists were of the opinion that "it would have been time enough when we all went"; Papa Declich shook hands with me and did not say a word. He stood upon his straw mattress and gave a sly peep into the yard. But even these glances were in spite of himself,—something was astir in his soul, and he was sad.
| — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — |
It was in the afternoon during exercise. The engineer had already heard of my forthcoming departure,—for him it would mean a severe blow, he said,—now he would have nobody to talk to. I promised him that I would leave him my blanket, pillow, and some linen as a souvenir,–he thanked me with emotion in advance.
| — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — |
The censorists were sitting with me. It was getting dark. Mr. Fels was of the opinion that I ought to let the Ministry of War know what sort of a fellow Papritz was, and what kind of conditions prevailed there; Mr. Goldenstein would have liked to let his family have news about him privately, and asked whether I would undertake it; Mr. Fröhlich thought that if I were to write about the jail, I should certainly not mention their real names.
Mr. Wilder came up and described what restaurant he would go to and the food he would order, if there were any prospect of his departing within so short a time.
| — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — | — |
It was night. I woke up from my sleep. People were breathing, some snored. The light was shining on the ceiling.
Was everything that had happened in Frank's presence, my liberation, Madam M. L., this tomorrow or the day after,—was all this only a dream of mine.I raised my head. From a corner a pair of dark eyes gazed at me from a large head,—Dr. Povich-Rosetti. "You happy man,—you can't sleep for joy, eh?" he said.
So it was not a dream. I will go on sleeping.
- ↑ marriage-broker.