Part 14

September 25th. Yesterday and the day before Mother was so ill that the doctor had to be sent for at half past 10 at night. Thank goodness she is better now. But on such days I simply can’t write a word in my diary; I feel as if I oughtn’t to. And the days seem everlasting, for nobody talks much, and it’s awful at mealtimes. Mother was up again to-day, lying on the sofa.

September 29th. I’ve had such an awful toothache since the day before yesterday. Dora says it’s only an ache for a gold filling like Frau Doktor M.’s. Of course that’s absurd; for first of all, surely I ought to know whether my own tooth hurts or not, and secondly the dentist says that the tooth really is decayed. I have to go every other day and I can’t say I enjoy it. At the same time, this year we have such a frightful lot to learn at school. The Nutling is really very nice, if one could only understand better what she says, but she talks at such a rate that in the Fifth, where she teaches too, they call her Waterfall. Nobody has ever given Frau Doktor M. a nickname, not even an endearing one. The only one that could possibly be given to her is Angel, and that could not be a real name, it’s quite unmeaning. In the drawing class we are going to draw from still life, and, best of all, animal studies too, I am so delighted.

October 4th. Goodness, to-day when we were coming home from the Imperial Festival, we met Viktor in M. Street, but unfortunately he did not see us. He was in full-dress uniform and was walking with 3 other officers whom neither I nor Hella know. We were frightfully angry because he did not recognise us; Hella thinks it can only be because we were both wearing our big new autumn hats, which shade our faces very much.

October 11th. There was a frightful row in the drawing lesson to-day. Borovsky had written a note to one of her friends: “The little Jewess, F. (that means the Nutling) is newly imported from Scandalavia with her horsehair pate with or without inhabitants.” Something of that sort was what she had written and as she was throwing it across to Fellner, Fraulein Scholl turned round at that very moment and seized the note. “Who is F.?”, she asked, but no one answered. That made her furious and she put the note in her pocket. At 1 o’clock, when the lesson was over, Borovsky went up to her and asked her for the note. Then she asked once more: “Who is F.?” And Fellner, thinking I suppose that she would help Borovsky out, said: “She forgot to write Frau Doktor Fuchs.” Then the row began. I can’t write it all down, it would take too long; of course Borovsky will be expelled. She cried like anything and begged and prayed, and said she did not mean it, but Fraulein Scholl says she is going to give the letter to the head.

October 12th. Continuation; the head is laid up with a chill, so Frl. Scholl gave the note to Frau Doktor M.; that was both good and bad. Good because Borovsky will perhaps be able to stay after all, and bad because Frau Doktor M. was frightfully angry. She gave us a fine lecture about True Good Manners, simply splendid. I was so glad that I was not mixed up in the business, for she did give Borovsky and Fellner a rating. It’s probably true, then, that her own fiance is a Jew. Its horrible that _she_ above all should be going to have a cruel husband; at least if all that Resi told us is true; and I expect there is some truth in it. We are frightfully curious to know whether the Nutling has heard anything about it and if so what she will do.

October 13th. I don’t think the Nutling can have heard anything for she seemed just as usual; but Hella thinks and so do I that she would not show anything even if Frl. Scholl had told her; anyhow it was horridly vulgar; one is not likely to pass it on to the person concerned. Why we think she does not know anything is that neither Borovsky nor Fellner were called up.

October 14th. To-day the needlewoman brought Dora’s handkerchiefs with her monogram and the coronet, lovely; I want some like them for Christmas. And for Mother she has embroidered six pillow-cases, these have a coronet too; by degrees we shall have the coronet upon everything. By the way, here is something I’d forgotten to write: In one of the first days of term Father gave each of us one of his new visiting cards with the new title, I was to give mine to Frau Doktor M. and Dora hers to Frau Prof. Kreidl, to have the names properly entered in the class lists. Frau Prof. Kreidl did not say anything, but Frau Doktor M. was awfully sweet. She said: “Well, Lainer, I suppose you are greatly pleased at this rise in rank?” And I said: “Oh yes, I’m awfully delighted, but only inside,” then she said: That’s right; “Religion, name, and money do not make the man.” Was not that charming! I write the v before my name awfully small; but anyone who knows can see it. What a shame that she is not noble! _She_ would be worthy of it!!

October 15th. Oswald has gone to Leoben to-day, he is to study mining, but _against_ Father’s will. But Father says that no one must be forced into a profession, for if he is he will always say throughout life that he only became this or that on compulsion. The other evening Dora said that Oswald had only chosen mining in order to get away from home; if he were to study law or agricultural chemistry he could not get away from Vienna, and that is the chief thing to him. Besides, he is a bit of a humbug; for when he came home from Graz after matriculation he said in so many words: “How delightful to have one’s legs under one’s own table again and to breathe the _family atmosphere_.” Dora promptly said to him: “Hm, you don’t seem to care so very much about home, for always when you come home for the holidays the first thing you do is to make plans for getting away.” For she is annoyed too that Oswald can travel about wherever he likes. And yet he goes on talking about being “_subjected to intolerable supervision”!!_ What about us? He can stay out until 10 at night and _never_ comes to afternoon tea, and in fact does just what he likes. If I go to supper with Hella and am just ever so little late, there’s a fine row. As for the lectures poor Dora had to endure when Viktor was waiting for her, I shall never forget them. Of course she denies it all now, but I was present at some of them so I know; otherwise he would not have called me “the Guardian Angel.” She behaves now as if she had forgotten all about that, so I often remind her of it on purpose when we are alone together. The other day she said: “I do beg you, Grete (not Rita), don’t speak any more of that matter; I have buried the affair for ever.” And when I said: “Buried, what do you mean? A true love can’t simply be _buried_ like that,” she said: “It was not a true love, and that’s all there is to say about it.”

October 16th. I had a frantically anxious time in the arithmetic lesson to-day. All of a sudden Hella flushed dark red and I thought to myself: Aha, that’s it! And I wrote to her on my black-line paper: Has it begun??? for we had agreed that she would tell me directly, she will be 14 in February and _it_ will certainly begin soon. Frau Doktor F. said: Lainer, what was that you pushed over to Br.? and she came up to the desk and took the black-line paper. “What does that mean: Has it begun???” Perhaps she really did not know what I meant, but several of the girls who knew about it too laughed, and I was in a terrible fright. But Hella was simply splendid. “Excuse me, Frau Doktor, Rita asked whether the frost had begun yet.” “And that’s the way you spend your time in the mathematics lesson?” But thank goodness that made things all right. Only in the interval Hella said that really I am inconceivably stupid sometimes. What on earth did I want to write a thing like that for? _When_ it begins, _of course_ she will let me know directly. As a matter of fact it has _not_ begun yet. We have agreed now that it will be better to say “Endt,” a sort of portmanteau word of _developed_ [entwickelt] and _at last_ [endlich] . That will really be splendid and Hella says that I happened upon it in a lucid interval. It’s really rather cheeky of her, but after all one can forgive anything to one’s friend. She absolutely insists that I must never again put her in such a fix in class. Of course it happened because I am always thinking: Now then, this is the day.

November 8th. On Father’s and Dora’s birthday Mother was so ill that we did not keep it at all. I was in a terrible fright that Mother was seriously ill, or even that -- -- -- -- -- No, I won’t even think it; one simply must not write it down even if one is not superstitious. Aunt Dora came last week to keep house for Mother. We are not going skating, for we are always afraid that Mother might get worse just when we are away. As soon as she is able to get up for long enough Father is going to take her to see a specialist in the _diseases of women_; so it must be true that Mother’s illness comes from _that_.

November 16th. Oh it’s horrible, Mother has to have an operation; I’m so miserable that I can’t write.

November 19th. Mother is so good and dear; she wants us to go skating to take our thoughts off the operation. But Dora says too that it would be brutal to go skating when Mother is going to have an operation in a few days. Father said to us yesterday evening: “Pull yourselves together children, set your teeth and don’t make things harder for your poor Mother.” But I can’t help it, I cry whenever I look at Mother.

November 23rd. It is so dismal at home since Mother went away; we had to go to school and we believed she would not leave until the afternoon, but the carriage came in the morning. Dora says that Father had arranged all that because I could not control myself. Well, who could? Dora cries all day; and at school I cried a lot and so did Hella.

November 28th. Thank goodness, it’s all safely over, Mother will be home again in a fortnight. I’m so happy and only now can I realise how _horribly_ anxious I have been. We go every day to see Mother at the hospital; I wish I could go alone, but we always go all together, that is either with Father or with Aunt Dora. But I suspect that Dora does go to see Mother quite alone, she gave herself away to-day about the flowers, she behaves as if Mother were only _her_ mother. On Thursday, the first time we saw Mother, we all whispered, and Mother cried, although the operation had made her quite well again. Unfortunately yesterday, Aunt Alma was there when we were, and Father said that seeing so many people at once was too exciting for Mother, and we must go away. Of course he really meant that Aunt Alma and Marina had better go away, but Aunt did not understand or would not. Why on earth did Aunt come? We hardly ever meet since the trouble about Marina and that jackanapes Erwin; only when there is a family party; Oswald says it’s not a family gathering but a family dispersal because nearly always some one takes offence.

November 30th. To-day I managed to be _alone_ with Mother. At school I said I had an awfully bad headache and asked if I might go home before the French lesson; I really had. What I told Mother was that Frau Doktor Dunker was ill, so we had no lesson. Really one ought not to tell lies to an invalid, but this was a _pious fraud_ as Hella’s mother always calls anything of the sort, and no one will find out, because Frau Doktor Dunker has nothing to do with the Fourth, so Dora won’t hear anything about it. Mother said she was _awfully pleased_ to be able to see _me_ alone for once. That absolutely proves that Dora does go alone. Mother was so sweet, and Sister Klara said she was a perfect angel in goodness and patience. Then I burst out crying and Mother had to soothe me. At first, after I got home, I did not want to say anything about it, but when we were putting on our things after dinner to go and see Mother I said en passant as it were: “This is the second time I shall be seeing Mother to-day.” And when Dora said: What do you mean? I said quite curtly: “One of our lessons did not come off, and so I took the chance _too_ of being able to see Mother _alone_.” Then she said: Did the porter let you in without any trouble? It surprises me very much that such _very_ young girls, who are almost children still, are allowed to go in alone. Luckily Aunt came in at that moment and said: “Oh well, nobody thinks Gretl quite a child now, and _both of you_ can go alone to the hospital all right.” On the way we did not speak to one another.

December 5th. For St. Nicholas day we took Mother a big flower pot, and tied to the stick was a label on which Father had written; “Being ill is punishable as an unpermissible offence in the sense of Section 7 the Mothers’ and Housewives’ Act.” Mother was frightfully amused. The doctor says she is going on nicely, and that she will be able to come home in a few days.

December 6th. It was awful to-day. In the evening when we were leaving the dining-room Father said: “Gretl you have forgotten something.” And when I came back he took me by the hand and said: “Why didn’t you tell me that you want so much to see Mother _alone_? You need not make such a secret of it.” And then I burst out crying and said: “Yes, I need not keep it secret from you, but I don’t like Dora to know all about it. Did she tell you what happened the other day?” But Father does not know anything about my pretended headache, but only that I wanted so much to see Mother alone. He was awfully kind and kissed and petted me, saying: “You are a dear little thing, little witch, I hope you always will be.” But I got away as quick as I could, for I felt so ashamed because of my fibbing. If it were not for Dora I’m sure I should never tell any lies.

December 6th. Father is an angel. He and I went to see Mother in the morning, and Aunt and Dora went in the afternoon. And since Father had to go into the Cafe where he had an appointment with a friend, I went on alone to see Mother and he came in afterwards. Mother asked me about my Christmas wishes; but I told her I had only one wish, that she should get well and live for ever. I was awfully glad that Dora was not there, for I could never have got that out before her. Still, she made me tell her my wishes after all, so I said I wanted handerkerchiefs with “monogram and coronet,” visiting cards with _von_, a satchel like that which most of the girls in the _higher_ classes have, and the novel Elizabeth Kott. But I am not to have the novel, for Mother was horrified and said: My darling child, that’s not the sort of book for you; who on earth put that into your head; Ada, I suppose? From what I know of your tastes, it really would not suit you at all. So I had to give that up, but I’m certain I should not find the book stupid.

December 11th. Mother came home again to-day; we did not know what time she was coming, but only that it was to be to-day. And because I was so glad that Mother is quite well again, I sang two or three songs, and Mother said: That is a good omen when one is greeted with a song. Then Dora was annoyed because _she_ had not thought of singing. We had decorated the whole house with flowers.

December 15th. I am embroidering a cushion for Mother and Dora is making her a footstool so that she can sit quite comfortably when she is reading. For Father we have bought a new brief bag because his own is so shabby that it makes us quite ashamed; but he always says: “It will do for a good while yet.” For a long time I did not know what to get for Aunt Dora, and at length we have decided upon a lace fichu; for she is awfully fond of lace. I am giving Hella a sketch book and a pencil case; she draws beautifully and will perhaps become an artist, for Dora I am getting a vanity bag and for Oswald a cigarette case with a horse’s head on it, for he is frightfully taken up with racing and the turf.

December 16th. Owing to Mother’s illness I’ve had simply no time to write anything about the school, although there has been a _great deal_ to write about, for example that Prof. W. is very friendly again, although he no longer gives us lessons, and that most of the girls can’t bear the Nutling because she makes such favourites of the Jewish girls. It’s quite true that she does, for example Franke, who is never any good, will probably get a Praiseworthy in Maths and Physics; and she lets Weinberger do anything she likes. I always get Excellent both for school work and prep.; so it really does not matter to me, but Berbenowitsch is frightfully put out because she is no longer the favourite as she was with Frau Doktor St. The other day it was quite unpleasant in the Maths lesson. In the answer to a sum there happened to be 1-3, and then the Nutling asked what 1-3 would be as a decimal fraction; so we went on talking about recurring [periodic] decimals and every time she used the word _period_, some of the girls giggled, but luckily some of them were Jews, and she got perfectly savage and simply screamed at us. In Frau Doktor St’s lesson in the First, some of the girls giggled at the same thing and she went on just as if she had not noticed it, but afterwards she always spoke of _periodic places_, and then one does not think of the real meaning so much. Frau Doktor F. said she should complain to Frau Doktor M. about our unseemly behaviour. But really all the girls had not giggled, for ex. Hella and I simply exchanged glances and understood one another at once. I can’t endure that idiotic giggling.

December 20th. Oswald came home to-day; he’s fine. It’s quite true that he has really had a moustache for a long time, but was not allowed to grow it at the Gymnasium; in boarding schools the barber comes every Saturday, and they _have_ to be shaved. He always says that at the Gymnasium everything manly is simply suppressed. I am so glad I am not a man and need not go to Gymnasium. Anyhow he has a splendid moustache now. Hella did not recognise him at first and drew back in alarm, she only knew him after a moment by his voice. We have reckoned it up, and find that she has not seen him since the Easter before last. At first he called her Fraulein, but her mother said: Don’t be silly. It did not seem silly to me, but most polite!!!

December 23rd. Mother is so delighted that Oswald is home again and he really is awfully nice; he is giving her a wonderful flowers-of-iron group representing a mountain scene with a forest, and in the foreground some roe deer as if in a pasture.

December 25th. Only time for a few words. Mother was very well yesterday, and it has not done her any harm to stay up so long. I am so happy. We both got a tie pin with a sapphire and 3 little diamonds, they have been made out of some earrings which Mother never wears now. But the nice thing about it is that they are made from her earrings. The satchel and Stifter’s Tales are awfully nice and so are the handkerchiefs with the coronet and everything else. Hella gave me a reticule with my monogram and the coronet as well. Oswald has given Dora and me small paperweights and Father a big one, bronze groups. We really need two writing tables, but there is no room for two. So I am going to arrange the little corner table as my writing table and have all my things there.