Part 7
I have received permission to ask whether you could be prepared to board the ship with the rest at Genoa on the twenty-sixth of November.
REUMANN
Do you mean to leave Vienna as soon as that?
SALA (_sarcastically_)
Yes. Why did you look at me like that, Doctor? That glance of yours was a little indiscreet.
REUMANN
In what respect?
SALA
It seemed to say: Yes, you can start, of course, but if you ever come back, that's more than doubtful.
REUMANN
Let me tell you, Mr. von Sala, that in the face of a venture like yours one might well express such doubts quite openly. But are you at all interested in whether you get back or not, Mr. von Sala? I don't suppose you belong to the kind of people who care to put their affairs in order.
SALA
No, indeed. Especially not as, in cases of that kind, it is generally the affairs of others which give you needless trouble. If I were to be interested at all in my own chances, it would be for much more selfish reasons.
JOHANNA
What reasons?
SALA
I don't want to be cheated out of the consciousness that certain moments are my final ones.
REUMANN
There are not many people who share your attitude in that respect.
SALA
At any rate, Doctor, you would have to tell me the absolute truth if I ever asked you for it. I hold that one has the right to drain one's own life to the last drop, with all the horrors and delights that may lie hidden at the bottom of it. Just as it is our evident duty every day to commit every good deed and every rascality lying within our capacity.... No, I won't let you rob me of my death moments by any kind of hocus-pocus. It would imply a small-minded attitude, worthy neither of yourself nor of me.--Well, Felix, the twenty-sixth of November then! That's still seven weeks off. In regard to any formalities that may be required, you need have no worry at all.
FELIX
How long a time have I got to make up my mind?
SALA
There's no reason to be precipitate. When does your furlough end?
FELIX
To-morrow night.
SALA
Of course, you are going to talk it over with your father?
FELIX
With my father.... Yes, of course.--At any rate I'll bring you the answer early to-morrow morning, Mr. von Sala.
SALA
Fine. It would please me very much. But you must bear in mind: it will be no picnic. I expect to see you soon, then. Good-by, Miss Johanna. Farewell, Doctor.
[_He goes out. A brief pause. Those left behind show signs of emotion._
JOHANNA (_rising_)
I'm going to my room. Good-by, Doctor. (_She goes out_)
REUMANN
Have you made up your mind, Felix?
FELIX
Almost.
REUMANN
You'll come across much that is new to you.
FELIX
And my own self among it, I hope--which would be about time.... (_Quoting_) "The mysteries of far-away ..." And will it really come true? Oh, the thrill of it!
REUMANN
And yet you ask time to consider?
FELIX
I hardly know why. And yet ... The thought of leaving people behind and perhaps never seeing them again--and certainly not as they were when you left them; the thought, too, that perhaps your going will hurt them ...
REUMANN
If nothing else makes you hesitate, then every moment of uncertainty is wasted. Nothing is more sure to estrange you from those dear to you than the knowledge that duty condemns you to stay near them. You must seize this unique opportunity. You must go to see Genoa, Asia Minor, Thibet, Bactria.... Oh, it must be splendid! And my best wishes will go with you. (_He gives his hand to Felix_)
FELIX
Thank you. But there will be plenty of time for wishes of that kind. Whatever may be decided, we shall meet more than once before I leave.
REUMANN
I hope so. Oh, of course!
FELIX (_looking hard at him_)
Doctor ... it seems to me there was a final farewell in that pressure of your hand.
REUMANN (_with a smile_)
Is it ever possible to tell whether you will meet again?
FELIX
Tell me, Doctor--did Mr. von Sala interpret your glance correctly?
REUMANN
That has nothing to do with your case anyhow.
FELIX
Will he not be able to go with us?
REUMANN (_with hesitation_)
That's very hard to predict.
FELIX
You have never learned to lie, Doctor.
REUMANN
As the matter stands now, I think you can bring it to a successful conclusion without further assistance.
FELIX
Mr. von Sala called on you a few days ago?
REUMANN
Yes, it was only a while ago. (_Pause_) Well, you can see for yourself that he is not well, can't you?--So God be with you, Felix.
FELIX
Will you continue to befriend this house when I am gone?
REUMANN
Why do you ask questions like that, Felix?
FELIX
You don't mean to come here again?--But why?
REUMANN
I assure you ...
FELIX
I understand ...
REUMANN (_embarrassed_)
What can there be to understand...?
FELIX
My dear Doctor ... I know now ... why you don't want to come to this house any more.... It's another case of somebody else breaking his neck.... Dear friend ...
REUMANN
Good luck to you ... Felix ...
FELIX
And if anybody should call you back ...
REUMANN
Nobody will.... But if I should be _needed_, I can always be found ...
JOHANNA (_comes into the room again_)
REUMANN
Good-by ... Good-by, Miss Johanna ...
JOHANNA
Are you going already, Doctor?
REUMANN
Yes.... Give my regards to your father. Good-by.... (_He shakes her hand_)
JOHANNA (_calmly_)
Did he tell you that Sala is doomed?
FELIX (_hesitates about what to say_)
JOHANNA
I knew it. (_With an odd gesture of deprecation as Felix wants to say something_) And you are going--with or without him?
FELIX
Yes. (_Pause_) There won't be much doing in this place after this.
JOHANNA (_remains unmoved_)
FELIX
And how are you going to live, Johanna?... I mean, how are the two of you going to live--you and father?
JOHANNA (_gives him a look as if his question surprised her_)
FELIX
He is going to be lonely. I think he would feel very grateful if you took a little more interest in him--if you went for a walk for him when there is time for it. And you, too ...
JOHANNA (_brusquely_)
How could that help me or him? What can he be to me or I to him? I was not made to assist people in days of trial. I can't help it, but that's the way I am. I seem to be stirred by a sort of hostility against people who appeal to my pity. I felt it like that all the time mother was sick.
FELIX
No, you were not made for that.... But what were you made for then?
JOHANNA (_shrugs her shoulders and sits down as before, with hands folded in her lap and her eyes staring straight ahead_)
FELIX
Johanna, why do you never talk to me any more as you used to? Have you, then, nothing to tell me? Don't you remember how we used to tell each other everything?
JOHANNA
That was long ago. We were children then.
FELIX
Why can't you talk to me any longer as you did then? Have you forgotten how well we two used to understand each other? How we used to confide all our secrets to each other? What good chums we used to be?... How we wanted to go out into the wide world together?
JOHANNA
Into the wide world.... Oh, yes, I remember. But there is nothing left now of all those words of wonder and romance.
FELIX
Perhaps it depends on ourselves only.
JOHANNA
No, those words have no longer the same meaning as before.
FELIX
What do you mean?
JOHANNA
Into the wide world ...
FELIX
What is the matter, Johanna?
JOHANNA
Once, when we were in the museum together, I saw a picture of which I often think. It has a meadow with knights and ladies in it--and a forest, a vineyard, an inn, and young men and women dancing, and a big city with churches and towers and bridges. And soldiers are marching across the bridges, and a ship is gliding down the river. And farther back there is a hill, and on that hill a castle, and lofty mountains in the extreme distance. And clouds are floating above the mountains, and there is mist on the meadow, and a flood of sunlight is pouring down on the city, and a storm is raging over the castle, and there is ice and snow on the mountains.--And when anybody spoke of "the wide world," or I read that term anywhere, I used always to think of that picture. And it used to be the same with so many other big-sounding words. Fear was a tiger with cavernous mouth--love was a page with long light curls kneeling at the feet of a lady--death was a beautiful young man with black wings and a sword in his hand--and fame was blaring bugles, men with bent backs, and a road strewn with flowers. In those days it was possible to talk of all sorts of things, Felix. But to-day everything has a different look--fame, and death, and love, and the wide world.
FELIX (_hesitatingly_)
I feel a little scared on your behalf, Johanna.
JOHANNA
Why, Felix?
FELIX
Johanna!--I wish you wouldn't do anything to worry father.
JOHANNA
Does that depend on me alone?
FELIX
I know in what direction your dreams are going, Johanna.--What is to come out of that?
JOHANNA
Is it necessary that something comes out of everything?--I think, Felix, that many people are destined to mean nothing to each other but a common memory.
FELIX
You have said it yourself, Johanna--that you are not made to see other people suffer.
JOHANNA (_shrinks slightly at those words_)
FELIX
Suffer ... and ...
JULIAN (_enters_)
How are you? (_He shakes hands with Felix_)
JOHANNA (_who has risen_)
Mr. Fichtner. (_She holds out her hand to him_)
JULIAN
I could hardly recognize you, Johanna. You have grown into a young lady now.--Has your father not come home yet?
JOHANNA
He hasn't gone out yet. He has nothing to do at the Academy until twelve.
JULIAN
I suppose he's in his studio?
JOHANNA
I'll call him.
[_Julian looks around. As Johanna is about to leave the room, Wegrat enters, carrying his hat and stick._
WEGRAT (_giving his hand to Julian_)
I'm delighted, my dear fellow.
JULIAN
I heard of it only after my arrival here yesterday--through Sala. I don't need to tell you ...
WEGRAT
Thank you very much for your sympathy. I thank you with all my heart.--But sit down, please.
JULIAN
You were going out?
WEGRAT
Oh, it's no hurry. I have nothing to do in the Academy until twelve. Johanna, will you please get a carriage for me, just to be on the safe side?
[_Johanna goes out. Wegrat seats himself, as does Julian. Felix stands leaning against the glazed oven._
WEGRAT
Well, you stayed away quite a while this time.
JULIAN
More than two years.
WEGRAT
If you had only got here ten days earlier, you could have had a last look at her. It came so very suddenly--although it wasn't unexpected.
JULIAN
So I have heard.
WEGRAT
And now you are going to stay right here, I suppose?
JULIAN
A little while. How long I am not yet able to tell.
WEGRAT
Of course not. The making of schedules has never been your line.
JULIAN
No, I have a certain disinclination for that kind of thing. (_Pause_)
WEGRAT
Oh, mercy, my dear fellow ... how often have I not been thinking of you recently!
JULIAN
And I....
WEGRAT
No, you haven't had much chance for it.... But I.... As I enter the building where I now hold office and authority, I remember often how we two young chaps used to sit side by side in the model class, full of a thousand plans and hopes.
JULIAN
Why do you say that in such a melancholy tone? A lot of those things have come true, haven't they?
WEGRAT
Some--yes.... And yet one can't help wanting to be young again, even at the risk of similar sorrows and struggles....
JULIAN
And even at the risk of also having to live through a lot of nice things over again.
WEGRAT
Indeed, those are the hardest things to bear, once they have turned into memories.--You have been in Italy again?
JULIAN
Yes, in Italy too.
WEGRAT
It's a long time now since I was there. Since we made that walk together through the Ampezzo Valley,[5] with the pack on our backs--to Pieve, and then right on to Venice. Can you remember? The sun has never again shone as brightly as it did then.
[5] One of the main routes through the Dolomites, leading from Southern Tirol into Italy. It is in part identical with the route outlined by Albert in "Intermezzo," but parts from it at Cortina to run straight south.
JULIAN
That must have been almost thirty years ago.
WEGRAT
No, not quite. You were already pretty well known at the time. You had just finished your splendid picture of Irene Herms. It was the year before I married.
JULIAN
Yes, yes. (_Pause_)
WEGRAT
Do you still recall the summer morning when you went with me to Kirchau for the first time?
JULIAN
Of course.
WEGRAT
How the light buggy carried us through the wide, sun-steeped valley? And do you remember the little garden at Hügelhang, where you became acquainted with Gabrielle and her parents?
FELIX (_with suppressed emotion_)
Father, is the house in which mother used to live still standing?
WEGRAT
No, it's gone long ago. They have built a villa on the spot. Five or six years ago, you know, we went there for the last time to visit the graves of your grandparents. Everything has been changed, except the cemetery.... (_To Julian_) Can you still remember that cool, cloudy afternoon, Julian, when we sat on the lower wall of the cemetery and had such a remarkable talk about the future?
JULIAN
I remember the day very clearly. But I have entirely forgotten what we were talking about.
WEGRAT
Just what we said has passed out of my mind, too, but I can still remember what an extraordinary talk it was.... In some way the world seemed to open up more widely. And I felt something like envy toward you, as I often did in those days. There rose within me a feeling that I, too, could do anything--if I only wanted. There was so much to be seen and experienced--and the flow of life was irresistible. Nothing would be needed but a little more nerve, a little more self-assurance, and then to plunge in. ... Yes, that was what I felt while you were talking. ... And then Gabrielle came toward us along the narrow road from the village, between the acacias. She carried her straw hat in her hand, and she nodded to me. And all my dreams of the future centered in her after that, and once more the whole world seemed fitted into a frame, and yet it was big and beautiful enough. ... Why does the color all of a sudden come back into those things? It was practically forgotten, all of it, and now, when she is dead, it comes to life again with a glow that almost scares me. ... Oh, it were better not to think of it at all. What's the use? What's the use? (_Pause; he goes to one of the windows_)
JULIAN (_struggling to overcome his embarrassment_) It is both wise and brave of you to resume your regular activities so promptly.
WEGRAT
Oh, once you have made up your mind to go on living. ... There is nothing but work that can help you through this sense of being alone--of being _left_ alone.
JULIAN
It seems to me that your grief makes you a little unjust toward--much that is still yours.
WEGRAT
Unjust...? Oh, I didn't mean to. I hope you don't feel hurt, children ...! Felix, you understand me fully, don't you? There is so much, from the very beginning, that draws--that lures--that tears the young ones away from us. We have to struggle to keep our children almost from the very moment they arrive--and the struggle is a pretty hopeless one at that. But that's the way of life: they cannot possibly belong to us. And as far as other people are concerned.... Even our friends come into our lives only as guests who rise from the table when they have eaten, and walk out. Like us, they have their own streets, their own affairs. And it's quite natural it should be so.... Which doesn't prevent us from feeling pleased, Julian--sincerely pleased, when one of them finds his way back to us. Especially if it be one on whom we have put great store throughout life. You may be sure of that, Julian. (_They shake hands_) And as long as you remain in Vienna, I shall see you here quite often, I trust. It will give me genuine pleasure.
JULIAN
I'll be sure to come.
MAID (_enters_)
The carriage is here, Professor. (_She goes out_)
WEGRAT
I'm coming. (_To Julian_) You must have a lot to tell me. You were as good as lost. You understand it will interest me to hear all you have done--and still more what you intend to do. Felix told us the other day about some very interesting sketches you had showed him.
JULIAN
I'll go with you, if you care to have me.
WEGRAT
Thanks. But it would be still nicer of you to stay right here and take dinner with us.
JULIAN
Well ...
WEGRAT
I'll be through very quickly. To-day I have nothing but a few business matters to dispose of--nothing but signing a few documents. I'll be back in three-quarters of an hour. In the meantime the children will keep you company as they used to in the old days. ... Won't you, children?--So you're staying, are you not? Good-by for a little while then. (_He goes out_)
[_Long pause._
FELIX
Why didn't you go with him?
JULIAN
Your mother was without blame. If any there be, it falls on me alone. I'll tell you all about it.
FELIX (_nods_)
JULIAN
It had been arranged that we were to go away together. Everything was ready. We meant to leave the place secretly because, quite naturally, your mother shrank from any kind of statement or explanation. Our intention was to write and explain after we had been gone a few days. The hour of our start had already been settled. He ... who later became her husband, had just gone to Vienna for a couple of days in order to get certain documents. The wedding was to take place in a week. (_Pause_) Our plans were all made. We had agreed on everything. The carriage that was to pick us up a little ways off had already been hired. In the evening we bade each other good-night, fully convinced that we should meet next morning, never to part again.--It turned out differently.--You mustn't keep in mind that it was your mother. You must listen to me as if my story dealt with perfect strangers. ... Then you can understand everything.
FELIX
I am listening.
JULIAN
I had come to Kirchau in June, one beautiful Summer morning--with him.... You know about that, don't you? I meant to stay only a few days. But I stayed on and on. More than once I tried to get away while it was still time. But I stayed. (_Smiling_) And with fated inevitability we slipped into sin, happiness, doom, betrayal--and dreams. Yes, indeed, there was more of those than of anything else. And after that last farewell, meant to be for a night only--as I got back to the little inn and started to make things ready for our journey--only then did I for the first time become really conscious of what had happened and was about to happen. Actually, it was almost as if I had just waked up. Only then, in the stillness of that night, as I was standing at the open window, did it grow clear to me that next morning an hour would come by which my whole future must be determined. And then I began to feel ... as if faint shiverings had been streaming down my body. Below me I could see the stretch of road along which I had just come. It ran on and on through the country, climbing the hills that cut off the view, and losing itself in the open, the limitless.... It led to thousands of unknown and invisible roads, all of which at that moment remained at my disposal. It seemed to me as if my future, radiant with glory and adventure, lay waiting for me behind those hills--but for me alone. Life was mine--but only this one life. And in order to seize it and enjoy it fully--in order to live it as it had been shaped for me by fate--I needed the carelessness and freedom I had enjoyed until then. And I marveled almost at my own readiness to give away the recklessness of my youth and the fullness of my existence.... And to what purpose?--For the sake of a passion which, after all, despite its ardor and its transports, had begun like many others, and would be destined to end like all of them.
FELIX
Destined to end...? _Must_ come to an end?
JULIAN
Yes. Must. The moment I foresaw the end, I had in a measure reached it. To wait for something that must come, means to go through it a thousand times--to go through it helplessly and needlessly and resentfully. This I felt acutely at that moment. And it frightened me. At the same time I felt clearly that I was about to act like a brute and a traitor toward a human being who had given herself to me in full confidence.--But everything seemed more desirable--not only for me, but for her also--than a slow, miserable, unworthy decline. And all my scruples were submerged in a monstrous longing to go on with my life as before, without duties or ties. There wasn't much time left for consideration. And I was glad of it. I had made up my mind. I didn't wait for the morning. Before the stars had set, I was off.
FELIX
You ran away....
JULIAN
Call it anything you please.--Yes, it was a flight, just as good and just as bad, just as precipitate and just as cowardly as any other--with all the horrors of being pursued and all the joys of escaping. I am hiding nothing from you, Felix. You are still young, and it is even possible that you may understand it better than I can understand it myself to-day. Nothing pulled me back. No remorse stirred within me. The sense of being free filled me with intoxication.... At the end of the first day I was already far away--much farther than any number of milestones could indicate. On that first day her image began to fade away already--the image of her who had waked up to meet painful disillusionment, or worse maybe. The ring of her voice was passing out of my memory.... She was becoming a shadow like others that had been left floating much farther behind me in the past.
FELIX