Night Games: And Other Stories and Novellas (4 page)

Bogner said nothing.

"Well-what do you think of my idea?" demanded Willi.

Bogner shrugged his shoulders. "Naturally, I thank you-obviously
I'm not going to say no-even though ..."

"Of course, I can't make any guarantees," Wilhelm interrupted with
an exaggerated vivacity, "but in the end it's not risking very much. And if
I win-whatever I win-a thousand of it is yours-at least a thousand.
And if I should happen to make an extraordinary killing ..."

"Don't promise too much," said Otto with a melancholy smile. "But
I don't want to keep you any longer, for my own sake as well as yours.
Tomorrow morning I will permit myself-rather ... I'll wait for you tomorrow at half past seven, over there, near the Alser Church." With a bitter laugh, he continued, "We could have met there by chance." Silencing
an attempt at a reply from Willi with a gesture, he added quickly, "Besides, I'm not going to stay idle in the meantime. I still have seventy
gulden left. I'll bet those this afternoon at the races-at the ten-kreuzer
window, of course."

He crossed over to the window with quick steps and looked into the
courtyard of the barracks. "The coast is clear," he said, his mouth twisted
into a bitter and sardonic smile. Pulling up his collar, he shook hands
with Willi and left.

Willi sighed softly, pondered for a moment, and then hurried to get
ready to leave. He wasn't very happy with the condition of his uniform.
If he should win today, he would buy himself a new cape at the very
least. He abandoned the idea of a Turkish bath because of the lateness of
the hour and decided to take a carriage to the train. Two gulden more or
less didn't really matter today, considering.

II

Getting off the train in Baden around noon, Willi found himself in excellent spirits. At the train station in Vienna he had had a very cordial con versation with Lieutenant Colonel Wositzky-an extremely disagreeable
person when on duty-and two girls in his compartment had flirted with
him so vivaciously that he was almost relieved when they didn't get out
with him at his station, because he knew he would have had difficulty in
carrying out his plan for the day if they had. Despite his good mood,
however, he still felt inclined to reproach his former comrade Bogner,
not so much because he had taken money from the cash drawer-since
that, given his unlucky circumstances, was to a certain degree excusable-but more because of the stupid gambling scandal by which he had
so abruptly cut off his promising career in the service three years ago. An
officer, after all, ought to know just how far he could go in that sort of
thing. For example, three weeks ago, when he had been dogged by bad
luck, he had simply gotten up from the card table, even though Consul
Schnabel had offered him access to his wallet in the most charming way.
In fact, he had always known how to resist temptation, and he had always
succeeded in making ends meet on his small salary and the meager allowances he had received, first from his father, and then, after his father's death as a lieutenant colonel at Emesvar, from his Uncle Robert.
And when these small additions to his salary had stopped, he had known
how to make do with less: he had stopped going to the cafes as frequently, cut down on new purchases, saved on cigarettes, and determined
that women should no longer cost him anything at all. Indeed, just three
months ago a little adventure that had begun most auspiciously had failed
because Willi had literally not been able to pay for a dinner for two on a
certain evening.

It was truly sad, he decided as he thought about it. Never before had
he been so aware of the narrowness of his circumstances as he was
today-on this beautiful spring day-as he wandered through the fragrant gardens of the country estate in which the Kessner family lived and
which they probably owned, wearing a cape that was showing signs of
wear, shabby trousers that had begun to shine at the knees, and a cap that
sat much lower than the latest officer style demanded. Today he also realized for the first time that his hope for an invitation to dinner-or rather,
the fact that such an invitation was something he needed to hope forwas shameful.

Nevertheless he was by no means displeased when his hope was
fulfilled, not only because the meal was tasty and the wine excellent, but
also because Fraulein Emily, who sat at his right, proved to be an exceedingly agreeable table companion with her friendly glances and her familiar touches-which, to be sure, could have been merely accidental. He
was not the only guest. There was also a young lawyer whom the head of
the household had brought from Vienna and who knew how to lead the
conversation into light, gay, and at times ironic channels. The host was
polite but somewhat cool toward Willi: in general he didn't seem altogether pleased by the Sunday visits of the lieutenant, who had taken entirely too literally the invitation to stop in sometime for tea which the
ladies of the house, to whom he had been presented at a ball during last
year's Carnival, had extended to him. And the still attractive lady of the
house apparently didn't remember that only two weeks ago, while seated
on a secluded bench in the garden, she had withdrawn herself from the
lieutenant's unexpectedly bold embrace only when sounds of approaching footsteps on the adjoining gravel path became audible. The first subject of conversation at table, a suit that the lawyer was pursuing for the
head of the household in a matter related to the latter's factory, was conducted in terms sometimes barely comprehensible to the lieutenant. But
fortunately the conversation then turned to the subject of country life and
summer travel, giving Willi the opportunity to jump in. Two years ago he
had participated in the imperial maneuvers in the Dolomites, and now he
was able to tell of camping under the open sky, of the two dark-haired
daughters of a Kastelruth innkeeper who had been called the Two
Medusas because of their unapproachability, and of a certain field marshal who, almost before Willi's very eyes, had fallen into disgrace as a
result of a bungled cavalry attack. And, as always after his third or fourth
glass of wine, he became less and less awkward, more gay. almost witty.
He could feel that he was gradually winning the host's favor, that the
lawyer's tone was gradually becoming less and less ironic, and that a certain memory was beginning to surface in the lady of the house. The energetic push from Emily's knee no longer took the trouble to appear
accidental.

For coffee, a somewhat corpulent, elderly lady appeared with her two daughters. Willi was introduced to them as "our dancer from the Industry Ball." It soon developed that the three ladies had also been in
South Tirol two years ago; and wasn't it the lieutenant whom they had
seen galloping past their hotel in Seis on a stallion one beautiful summer
day? Willi was reluctant to deny this, though he knew very well that he,
an obscure lieutenant of the 98th Infantry, could never have been seen
charging through any village, in Tirol or anywhere else, on a proud stallion.

The two young ladies were attractively clad in white. Fraulein
Kessner, in light pink, was in the middle as all three ran mischievously
over the lawn.

"Just like the three Graces, aren't they?" observed the lawyer.
Again it sounded like irony, and the lieutenant was tempted to challenge
him: just how do you mean that, Herr Doctor? Yet it was all the easier to
suppress this remark as Miss Emily, out on the lawn, had just turned
around and was beckoning him to join her. She was blonde, slightly taller
than he was, and it could be presumed that she had expectations of a
rather considerable dowry. But to get to that stage-if one might even
dare to dream of such a possibility-would take a long time, a very long
time, and meanwhile the thousand gulden that his unlucky comrade
needed had to be acquired by tomorrow morning at the latest.

So there was nothing left for him to do, in the interests of former
First Lieutenant Bogner, but to make his excuses just as the party was at
its best. They acted as though they wanted to keep him, and he voiced his
regrets: unfortunately he had made an appointment; and, most especially,
he had to visit a comrade who was taking a cure in the nearby military
hospital for an old case of rheumatism. The lawyer responded to all this
with his usual ironic smile. Would this visit occupy the whole afternoon'?
Frau Kessner, with a smile full of promise, wanted to know. Willi
shrugged his shoulders uncertainly. Well, at any rate, they would all be
happy to see him again in the course of the evening if he should manage
to get free.

Just as he was leaving the house, two elegant young men rode up in
a carriage. This did not please Willi at all. What kind of wonderful things
might happen in this house while he had to earn a thousand gulden in a cafe for the sake of a compromised comrade? Wouldn't it be far wiser
just to abandon the whole affair and to return in half an hour or so to the
beautiful garden and the Three Graces, pretending to have visited his sick
friend? All the wiser, he thought with self-satisfaction, as-if the old saying was to be believed-his chances for winning at cards must just have
sunk precipitously with this unexpected good luck with the ladies.

III

A large yellow poster advertising the races stared at him from a kiosk,
and it occurred to him that at this hour Bogner must be at the Freudenau
races, perhaps at this very minute winning the sum that would save him.
Might Bogner not conceal such a lucky win in order to get the thousand
gulden that Willi meanwhile would have won at cards from Consul
Schnabel or the regiment doctor Tugut? Why certainly-since he had already sunk so low as to take money from a cash drawer that didn't belong to him ... and in a couple of months or even a few weeks, mightn't
Bogner be in exactly the same fix he was in today? And then what?

Willi heard music. It was some Italian overture, in that halfforgotten style in which only resort orchestras played nowadays. But
Willi knew it well. Many years ago he had heard his mother in Temesvar
play it four handed, with some distant relative. He himself had never gotten so far as to be able to serve his mother as partner in four-handed playing, and since she died eight years ago, there had been no more of the
piano lessons that had been a standard feature of his visits home from the
military academy on holidays. Softly and somewhat poignantly the
music reverberated in the tremulous spring air. He crossed the little
bridge over the muddy Schwechat, and after a few more steps he was
standing in front of the spacious terrace of Cafe Schopf, crowded as
usual on Sundays. Lieutenant Greising, the alleged patient, looking pale
and malicious, was sitting at a little table near the street. With him sat
Weiss, the fat theatre manager, in a somewhat rumpled, canary-yellow
flannel suit, a flower in his buttonhole as usual. Willi pushed his way toward them between the tables and chairs with some difficulty. "I see
there's nobody here today!" he called out, affably, extending his hand to ward them. And suddenly he thought with relief that perhaps there would
be no card game today. But Greising explained that the two of them, he
and the theatre manager, were only sitting outdoors in order to strengthen
themselves for the "work" to come indoors. The others were already inside at the card table. Consul Schnabel had arrived too, having, as usual,
come from Vienna in a carriage.

Willi ordered an iced lemonade. Greising demanded to know where
he had already so overheated himself that he needed a cooling drink, and
then, without further preliminaries, remarked that the girls of Baden were
decidedly good-looking and lively. Then, in not particularly well-chosen
phrases, he told of a small adventure he had begun last evening in the
Kurpark and which he had been able to bring to the desired conclusion
that very night. Willi drank his lemonade slowly and Greising, who
guessed what was going through his head, replied with a brief burst of
laughter as though in answer, "Well, that's the way of the world, like it or
not!"

Suddenly, First Lieutenant Wimmer, from the Transport Corps
(whom the uninformed often mistook for a cavalryman), appeared behind them. "What are you thinking of, gentlemen'? Are we supposed to
plague ourselves to death with the consul all by ourselves?"

And he gave his hand to Willi, who had already conscientiously
saluted his higher-ranking comrade, as was his custom even when off
duty.

"How're things going inside?" asked Greising, brusquely and suspiciously.

"Very slowly," answered Wimmer. "The consul is already sitting on
his gold like a dragon-on my gold, unfortunately, as well. So-up and
into battle, my dear toreadors!"

The others rose. "I'm invited somewhere else," said Willi, lighting
his cigarette with studied carelessness. "I'll just watch for a quarter of an
hour."

"Ha," laughed Wimmer, "the way to hell is paved with good intentions." "And the way to heaven with bad ones," added Weiss, the theatre
manager. "Well said," said Wimmer, and clapped him on the shoulder.

They went inside the cafe. Willi cast one last glance back over his shoulder out into the open air, over the roofs of the villas toward the hills.
And he swore to himself that he would be sitting in the garden with the
Kessners in no more than half an hour at the most.

Together with the other men he entered a dark corner of the cafe, a
place where neither the spring air nor the spring light could penetrate. To
show that he had absolutely no intention of joining the game, he pulled
his chair way back from the table. The consul, a gaunt man of uncertain
age, with a mustache trimmed English style and reddish, partly grey,
thinning hair, elegantly dressed in a light grey suit, was studying, with
the thoroughness that characterized him, a card which Dr. Flegmann, acting as banker, had just dealt him. He won, and Dr. Flegmann drew some
brand-new bills from his wallet.

"He doesn't even bat an eyelash," noted Wimmer with ironic appreciation.