Night Games: And Other Stories and Novellas (22 page)

The hours went by and he wondered why he just couldn't believe
that his beloved was seriously ill. At the same time it seemed to him to be
a sin that he was so calm.... And in the afternoon-how long since this
had happened!-he read a book for hours as though there were nothing
to fear or to wish for...

The messenger was already waiting for him at the corner when Albert arrived in the evening. Today he gave the man an additional assignment: besides asking the same question as yesterday, he should try to
begin a conversation with the chambermaid and find out exactly what
was wrong with her mistress. This time it took longer for the man to
reappear, and Albert began to feel anxious. Almost a quarter of an hour
passed before he finally saw the man come out of the house. Albert ran
toward him-

"They say the lady of the house is doing very badly...."

"What?" shrieked Albert.

"They say the lady of the house is doing very badly," the man repeated.

"To whom did you speak? What did they tell you?"

"The chambermaid told me that it was very dangerous.... There
were already three doctors there today, and they say the gentleman is
desperate."

"Go on ... go on ... what's wrong with her? Didn't you ask? I told
you-

"Of course! ... It's said to be typhoid fever, and the lady has been
unconscious for two days."

Albert stood still and stared at the man as though he weren't there.
Then he asked: "That's all you know?"

The man repeated his story from the beginning, and Albert listened
as though each word brought him something new. Then he paid the man
and went straight back to the street in front of his beloved's house. Well,
of course he could now stand there without being noticed-who would
bother about him? And he stared up at her bedroom and wanted to penetrate both the windows and the curtains with his eyes. The sickroomyes-it was obvious that a very sick person must be lying behind all
these still windows!-how could he not have known it the very first
night? Today he realized that it couldn't have been anything else. A carriage drove up. Albert rushed over, saw a man who could only be a doctor get out and disappear behind the gate. Albert remained standing very
close in order to wait for the doctor to come out, in the undefined hope
that he could read something in his expression.... For a few minutes he
stood stock still, and then the ground in front of him seemed slowly to go
up and down. Then he noticed that his eyes had closed, and when he
opened them again it seemed to him as if he had been dreaming for hours
and was now waking up refreshed. He could believe that she was very ill,
yes, but dangerously ill, no ... she was so young, so beautiful, and so
beloved.... And suddenly the words "typhoid fever" flew through his
mind again.... He didn't know exactly what that was. He did remember
having read it in obituaries as a cause of death. Then he pictured her
name and her age in print, along with "died on the zoth of August of typhoid fever."... But that was impossible, totally impossible ... now that
he had imagined it, it had to be totally impossible ... it would be too odd
if he should actually see it in print in a few days! ... He believed he had
conquered fate. The doctor came out of the house door. Albert had almost
forgotten him-but now he caught his breath. The doctor's expression
was emotionless and serious. He gave the driver an address, climbed in
the carriage, and drove off. Why didn't I ask him, thought Albert ... but
then was glad that he hadn't. In the end he might have heard very bad
news. This way he could go on hoping.... He slowly walked away from
the door and firmly made up his mind not to return for at least an
hour.... And suddenly he fantasized how she would come to him the
first time after her recovery.... The picture was so vivid that he was astonished. He even knew there would be a fine grey mist that day. She would wear a coat that would slip from her shoulders in the reception
room, would rush into his arms and would only be able to cry and cry.
Now you have me again ... she would whisper ... here I am! Suddenly
Albert started.... He knew that it would never, never happen! ... Fate
had conquered him! ... Never again would she come to him-she had
been with him five days ago for the last time, and he had let her go for
good, and he had not known it....

And once more he rushed through the streets, his thoughts whirling
through his mind. He longed to lose consciousness. Now he was in front
of her house again ... the gate was still open, and lights were on in the
dining room and the bedroom.... Albert ran away. He knew: if he had
stayed another minute he would have had to rush upstairs, to her-to her
bed-to his beloved. And, as was his manner, he was forced to think that
through to the end as well. He saw how her husband, suddenly understanding everything, would run to the patient who was lying there motionless, would shake her and scream in her ear, "Your lover is here, your
lover is here!" But she would already be dead....

Bad dreams spoiled his night, a dull fatigue the next day. Already at
eleven o'clock in the morning he sent a messenger to find out what was
happening. At this point it obviously didn't matter who inquired. Who
would worry about who came to ask about her condition? The report he
received was: unchanged.... He lay on his sofa the whole afternoon and
didn't understand why he was doing it. Everything was already a matter
of indifference to him, and he thought: it's wonderful to be so tired....
He slept a lot. But as it grew dark he suddenly jumped up in a kind of astonishment, as if only now, for the first time in all this, everything was
clear to him. And an intense desire for certainty overcame him-he had
to speak to the doctor himself today. He hurried over to her house. The
housekeeper was standing in front. He walked up to her and, wondering
at his remarkable calmness, he asked innocently, "How is Frau ..." The
housekeeper answered, "Oh, she's very sick; she'll never recover...."

"Ah," Albert answered very politely, and added, "that's really sad."

"Of course," said the other, "it's very sad-such a beautiful young
woman!" And with that she disappeared into the doorway.

Albert watched her go.... She didn't notice anything, he thought, and at the same moment the question of whether he couldn't risk going
right into the house, since he was such a good actor, occurred to him. At
that moment the doctor's carriage drove up. Albert greeted him as he
climbed down, and received a cordial answer in return. That pleased
him-for now he had made his acquaintance, in a manner of speaking,
and so could all the more easily question him when he came out
again....

He stood stock still, and it made him feel good to think that the doctor was with her. He was gone a long time.... That must mean there was
a possibility of saving her, else he wouldn't stay up there so long. Or
maybe she was already in her death agony ... or ... Ah, no, no, no! He
wanted to banish all thought-it was useless anyway-anything was
possible-suddenly it seemed to him that he heard the doctor speak-he
even understood the words: this is the crisis. And instinctively he looked
up at the closed window. He wondered whether under certain circumstances, when one's senses were at an edge and therefore keener, it was
possible to hear someone's words even through closed windows. Yes, of
course he had heard the words, heard them not in his imagination but really heard- but at this same moment the doctor came out of the gate. Albert took a step toward him. The doctor probably took him to be a
relative, and, reading the unspoken question in his eyes, shook his head.
But Albert didn't want to understand him. He began to talk, "May I ask,
professor, how ..." The doctor, who already had one foot in the carriage,
shook his head again...... Very bad," he said, and looked at the young
man...... You're her brother, aren't you?" ..... Yes," said Albert....
The doctor looked at him compassionately. Then he stepped into his carriage, nodded to the young man, and drove off.

Albert watched the carriage drive off as though his last hope were
disappearing with it. Then he left. He talked softly to himself, said things
that made no sense, and his teeth chattered all the while. Well, what am I
going to do today? ... It's too late to go out to the country, too late to go
out to the country. It's too late, too late.... Yes, I'm sad. Am I sad? Am I
terribly sad? No, I'm walking around, I'm not feeling anything. I feel
nothing. I could go to the theatre now, or drive out to the country.... Oh
no, I just think that! ... It's all nonsense, because I'm so deeply shaken.... Yes ... I'm deeply shaken, I'm shattered! This is a profound
moment. I must hold on to it. To understand something clearly and not to
feel anything ... nothing ... nothing.... He shivered.... Home, home.
I've got to have experienced something like this before ... but when,
when? ... Maybe in a dream? ... Or is this a dream? ... Yes, I'm going
home now as on every other evening, as though nothing's happened, as if
nothing at all's happened. But what kind of nonsense am I talking! I'll
not be able to stay home. I'll go to her house again in the middle of the
night, to the house of my dying beloved.... And his teeth chattered.

Suddenly he found himself in his room and couldn't for the life of
him remember how he had gotten there. He lit a lamp and sat down on
his sofa. I know how it is, he said to himself: pain is knocking at the door
and I won't let it in. But I know that it's out there-I can see it through
the little window in my door. How stupid, how stupid! ... So my
beloved is going to die ... yes she is, she is! Or am I still hoping she'll
recover, and is that why I'm so calm? No, I'm sure of it. Hah, and the
doctor took me for her brother! What if I'd answered him: no, I'm her
lover, or I'm her Celadon, her brokenhearted Celadon....

My God! he suddenly shrieked, sprang up, and ran up and down in
his room.... I've opened the door! Pain is here! ... Anna, Anna, my
sweet, my only, my beloved Anna! ... And I can't be with you! I, the
only one who really belongs to you! ... Perhaps she isn't unconscious at
all! What do we know about it, after all? And maybe she's yearning for
me-and I can't go to her-can't go to her. Or maybe, in her last moment, when she is beyond all earthly constraints, she will say, will whisper: Tell him to come-I want to see him once more ... and what would
he do then?

After a while the whole scene unfolded in front of his eyes. He saw
himself hurry up the stairs. Her husband received him, led him to the bed
of the dying woman. She smiled at him with broken eyes-he leaned
over her, she embraced him, and as he raised himself up again, she
breathed her last breath-and then the husband joined them and said to
him, "And now please leave, sir, we'll have more to say to one another
later.... But life wasn't like that, no ... that would be the most wonderful thing, the most wonderful thing of all, to see her once more, to feel that she loved him! He had to see her again somehow, some way ... how
in God's name could he let her die without having seen her once more?
That would be too terrible. He hadn't thought the whole thing out properly. Yes, but what to do? It was almost midnight! What excuse could I
use to see her this time? he asked himself. Do I even need an excuse ...
now that death ... but even if she-dies-do I have the right to betray
her secret, to stain her memory for her husband and her family-?
But ... I could pretend to be mad. Ah-I can act very well.... Oh
God!-what an idea! ... what if one plays the role too well and is put
into an insane asylum for the rest of one's life? ... Or what if she should
get well again and then declare me a madman whom she had never
known, had never seen-! Oh, my head, my head! He threw himself onto
his bed. Now he was conscious of the night and of the stillness around
him. Well, he said to himself, I'll think things through quietly. I want to
see her once more-yes, of course ... that's certain.

And his thoughts ran on: he saw himself running up the stairs to her
flat in a hundred disguises: as the doctor's assistant, as a drugstore clerk,
as a servant, as an employee of a funeral home, even as a beggar; and finally he saw himself sitting next to her-whom he dared not recognizeas undertaker, wrapping her in a white shroud and laying her in her
coffin....

He awoke at dawn. His window had been open, and even though he
had gone to bed fully clothed, he shivered, as a light rain had begun to
fall and the wind had blown a few drops into his room.

So autumn is here, thought Albert.... Then he got up and looked at
the clock. So I slept five hours after all! In that time ... much could have
happened. He trembled. Odd, now I suddenly know exactly what I have
to do. I'll go there to her door, with my collar turned up and ... will
ask ... myself....

He poured himself a glass of cognac and downed it quickly. Then
he went to the window. God, how awful the streets look. It's still very
early.... These are all people who have to be at work at seven
o'clock.... Yes, today I'm also someone who has work to do at seven
o'clock. "Very badly," the doctor had said yesterday. But no one has died
from that.... And yesterday I had the feeling all day that she ... let's go, let's go.... He pulled on his overcoat, took an umbrella, and went
into the reception room. His valet looked at him in astonishment. "I'll be
back soon," he said, and left.

He took small, slow steps. It was really quite embarrassing for him
to go in person. What on earth would he say? He was getting nearer and
nearer her house. Already he was on her street and saw her house from
afar. It seemed strange to him. Of course he had never seen it at such an
hour. How strange the wan light that the rainy morning was spreading
over the street seemed! Yes, on days like this people died. If Anna had
broken off with him when she was with him the last time, he might perhaps already have forgotten her. Yes, for sure-for it was very strange
how long it seemed since he had last seen her. What kind of strange
thoughts a rainy morning such as this could induce! ... Oh God ... Albert was very tired, very distracted.... He almost passed her house without noticing it.