There they stood, in every corner, at all hours, insolent or cowed, talkative or silent, begging: “Only a cup of coffee and a roll.”
Georgenkirchstrasse was in a poor district. Gas company collector, middleman tailor, postman—they hurried all the quicker when they saw the girl. They didn’t pull a face or make an insolent remark or joke: they had no thought of scoffing. But they hurried past lest a word of supplication should reach their hearts and move them to make a gift which should not be given. For the same trouble awaited all of them at home: black care rode on everybody’s shoulder. Who knows when my wife, my daughter, my girl will be standing there, at first in the shadow of the door and next time in broad daylight? If you hurry by and see nothing, no whisper reaches your ears. You are alone, I am alone, we die alone—so each for himself.
But now somebody had stopped before Petra, an elderly man in a bowler hat, a yellow owl’s face and yellow owl’s eyes.
“What?” she asked, this time quite distinctly.
“Well, Fräulein!” He shook his head somewhat disapprovingly. “Do the Pagels live here?”
“Pagels?” So he didn’t want anything of that sort, he was inquiring after the Pagels. The Pagels, several Pagels, at least two of them. She would have liked to know who he was, what he wanted; perhaps something important for Wolfgang.… And she tried to pull herself together. This gentleman wanted something. He mustn’t discover that she belonged to Pagel, she who stood in the doorway thus. “The Pagels?” She sought to gain time.
“Yes, the Pagels. Well, you don’t seem to know. Been having a drop or two, what?” He winked. He seemed to be a good-hearted man. “You oughtn’t, Fräulein, not during the daytime. It’s all right in the evening. But it’s bad for you during the day.”
“Yes, the Pagels live here,” she said. “But they’re not at home. They’re both out.” (For he mustn’t go up to the Thumann woman; what he would hear there might be detrimental to Wolfgang.)
“So? Both out? Probably to the wedding, eh? But then they must have arrived late. The registry office is closed now.”
So he knew that, too. Who could he be? Wolfgang had always said he had no acquaintances.
“When did they go?” the gentleman continued.
“About half an hour ago, no, an hour ago,” she said hastily. “And they told me they weren’t coming back today.” (He mustn’t go up to the Thumann woman. No!)
“So they told you that, Fräulein?” the gentleman asked, suddenly suspicious. “You’re probably on friendly terms with the Pagels?”
“No, no,” she protested hastily. “They only know me by sight. They only told me because I’m always standing here.”
“So …” said the gentleman thoughtfully. “Well, thank you very much.” And he went slowly through the doorway toward the first courtyard.
“Oh, please,” she called in a weak voice and even took a few steps after him.
“Anything else?” he asked, turning round; but he didn’t come back. (He intended to go up in any case.)
“Please,” she implored. “The people up there are bad. Don’t believe what they tell you of Herr Pagel. Herr Pagel is an excellent and very respectable man I’ve never had anything to do with him, I only know him by sight.”
The visitor stood in the sunlit courtyard. He looked at Petra keenly, but he did not recognize her in the shadowy doorway; a slight, weak figure, the head bent forward, the lips half open, hands laid imploringly on her breast, anxiously awaiting the effect of her words.
He fingered his yellow-gray beard thoughtfully. After a long silence’ he said: “Don’t worry, Fräulein. I don’t believe everything I’m told.”
It did not sound ironical, perhaps it was not intended for her at all. It sounded almost friendly.
“I know the young gentleman quite well. I knew him when he was so high.” And he indicated an impossibly short distance from the ground. Then, without another word, he nodded at her and vanished in the passage to the second courtyard.
Petra, however, slipped back to her sheltered corner behind the open door. She knew now that she had made a mistake; she should not have given any information at all to this old gentleman who had known Wolfgang as a child. No, she ought to have said: “I don’t know whether the Pagels live here.”
But she was too tired, too shattered, too ill to think about it any more. She only wanted to stand there and wait till he came back; then she would read in his face the information he had gleaned. She would tell him what a wonderful man Wolfgang was, that he had never done anything wicked, never done anybody any harm.… She rested her head on the cool wall, shutting her eyes, and this time almost unwillingly felt descend upon her the darkness which meant relief from her ego, her troubles, while in her mind she endeavored to accompany the old gentleman across the courtyard. And then upstairs to Frau Thumann’s door. She thought she could hear him ring, and now she wanted to concentrate on his conversation with the landlady.… She would talk, that woman! Oh, she would talk, reveal everything, fling mud at them both, lament over the lost money.…
And suddenly she could see their room, the ugly den gilded by the rays of love.… There they had laughed, slept, talked, read.… Wolf stood brushing his teeth at the wash stand. She said something.…
“I can’t hear,” he shouted. “Talk louder.”
She did.
“Louder.” He went on brushing his teeth. “I can’t hear a word. Louder still.”
She obeyed, he brushed, the soap foamed.
“I said much louder.”
She obeyed and they laughed.
Here they had been together; she had waited for him, never in vain.…
And she saw the street in one quick stab and knew that she was walking along … fairy fountain … Hermannspark … on, still farther on … And now she was in the country, with fields and forests, bridges and bushes … And again towns full of houses with doorways, and again land and water, vast oceans … and distant lands and country and town; unimaginable.… The myriad potentialities of life at every corner in every village … “To thee will I give all the glory of them.” Her brain grew confused. “And I will worship before you if you will give me back our room and the vigil for him within it.”
Slowly the world went dark. Everything was extinguished. The world was obscured. Dark shreds floated away, hiding her.… At one moment she thought she could still see the curtains in the room, yellow-gray, and hanging limp and motionless in the immense sultry heat. Then they too were swallowed up in the night.
The servant Ernst laid his hand on her shoulder and said admonishingly: “Fräulein, please, Fräulein.”
Petra saw him from a long way off and, as if she had been urgently waiting to put the question ever since he had gone, asked at once: “What did they say?”
The man shrugged his shoulders. “Where has the young master, gone to?” She hesitated and he said soothingly: “You needn’t feel embarrassed with me. I’m only his aunt’s servant. I needn’t tell her everything.”
“He has gone to get some money.” He couldn’t learn anything worse from her than he had heard upstairs.
“And hasn’t come back?”