Night Games: And Other Stories and Novellas (7 page)

Willi laughed: "What else?"

"Your bet, Lieutenant?"

"Oh, not all of it!" cried Willi, his head clearing. "The poor have to
be economical. One thousand to begin with."

He uncovered, imitating the consul's customary exaggerated slowness. Willi had to buy a card, and added a three of spades to his four of
diamonds. The consul also uncovered; he, too, held a seven.

"I'd stop," warned First Lieutenant Wimmer again, and now his
words sounded almost like a command. And the regiment doctor added,
"Now, when you are just about even."

Just about even! Willi thought. He calls that "just about even!" A
quarter of an hour ago I was a well-to-do young man; now I'm a beggar,
and he calls that "even"! Should I tell them the story of Bogner? Maybe
then they would understand.

New cards lay in front of him. Seven. No, he didn't want to buy a
card. But the consul didn't even ask him; he simply uncovered an eight.
A thousand lost! buzzed in Willi's brain. But I'll win it back! And if I
don't, it won't make any difference. I can no more pay back a thousand
than I can pay back two thousand. It's all the same now! Ten minutes is
still time enough. I could even win back the four or five thousand I had
before.

"Lieutenant?" asked the consul.

The words echoed through the room, for everyone was quiet, absolutely quiet. Will no one now say, "I'd stop if I were you?" No, thought
Willi, no one has the audacity. They know it would be stupid for me to
stop now. But what should he bet now? He had only a few hundred
gulden lying in front of him. Suddenly there were more. The consul had
pushed two thousand more his way.

"Help yourself, Lieutenant."

Indeed, he helped himself. He put down fifteen hundred and won.
Now he could pay back his debt and still have something left over. He
felt a hand on his shoulder. "Kasda," said First Lieutenant Wimmer behind him. "No more!" His voice sounded hard, almost severe. But I'm
not on duty now, thought Willi, and I can do what I want with my money
and my life! And he bet again, bet only a modest thousand gulden and
uncovered the card he had been dealt. Schnabel took his time, playing
with deadly slowness, as though they had all the time in the world. There
was still time, indeed; no one was going to force them to stop playing at
2:3o a.m. The last time they had played until 5:30. The last time ... that
beautiful, distant time. Why were they all standing around him? It was as
if in a dream. Ah, they were all more agitated than he was. Even Fraulein
Rihoscheck, who was standing across from him, a straw hat with a red band on her well-waved hair, had curiously shining eyes. He smiled at
her. She had a face like a tragic queen, though she was little better than a
chorus girl. The consul uncovered his cards. A queen. Ha, Queen Rihoscheck and a nine of spades! That damned spade!-it always brought
him bad luck. And the thousand wandered over to the consul. But what
did it matter? He still had something left. Or was he already completely
ruined? He hadn't the slightest ... Suddenly there were a few more thousand in front of him. A noble man, that consul. To be sure, he was certain
he would get them back. An officer, after all, had to pay his gambling
debts. Someone like Elrief remained an Elrief in any case, but an officer,
unless he was named Bogner ...

"Two thousand, Herr Consul!"

"Two thousand?"

"Indeed, Consul!"

He didn't buy a card; he held with his seven. The consul had to buy.
This time he didn't bother with ceremony; he was in a hurry, and he
added an eight-an eight of spades-to his one, and that made nine. No
doubt about it. The eight would have been enough by itself. And the two
thousand wandered back to the consul-and then immediately back to
Willi. Or was it more? Three or four thousand? Better not to look at all,
that would bring bad luck. The consul wouldn't cheat him, and in any
case the others were all standing around and watching closely. And since
he no longer knew exactly what he already owed, he bet two thousand
again. The four of spades. Yes, he was forced to buy at that. Six. The six
of spades. So that made one too many! The consul didn't even have to
make an effort, and he had only a three ... and the two thousand wandered over to the consul again-and then immediately back. It was
ridiculous! Forward and back, forward and back. The church tower clock
struck again-the half-hour. But evidently no one had heard. The consul
dealt the cards calmly. Everyone was standing around, all the men; only
the regiment doctor had left. Yes, Willi had noticed how, a little while
ago, he had shaken his head angrily and had mumbled something between his teeth. Evidently he couldn't bear to see how Lieutenant Kasda
was playing for his life. How could a doctor have such weak nerves!

And again new cards lay in front of him. He bet-how much ex actly he didn't know. A handful of bills. This was a new way to tempt
fate. Eight. Now his luck had to change.

It did not. The consul uncovered a nine, looked around at the group,
and then pushed the cards away. Willi opened his eyes wide. "Well, Consul?" But the consul lifted his finger and pointed outdoors, "It has just
struck the half hour, Lieutenant."

"What," cried Willi, pretending to be astonished. "Couldn't we give
it another quarter of an hour?"

He looked around the circle as though he sought approval. Everyone was silent. Herr Elrief looked away, very aristocratically, and lit a
cigarette; Wimmer bit his lips; Greising whistled nervously, almost
soundlessly; and the theatre manager remarked somewhat rudely, as
though it were trivial, "The lieutenant has really had bad luck today!"

The consul stood up and called for the waiter-as though it had
been a night like any other. Only two bottles of cognac were on his own
account, but to simplify things he wished to take care of the entire bill.
Greising refused and paid for his coffee and cigarettes personally. The
others accepted the consul's hospitality indifferently. Then the consul
turned to Willi, who was still sitting, and again pointing outdoors with
his right arm as he had before when he had called attention to the striking
of the church clock, he said, "If you like, Lieutenant, I'll take you back to
Vienna in my carriage."

"Very kind of you," replied Willi. And at this moment it seemed to
him as though the last quarter of an hour, in fact the whole night and
everything that had happened, were canceled out. The consul no doubt
regarded it in the same light. Otherwise how could he have invited him
into his carriage?

"Your debt, Lieutenant," the consul added in a friendly manner,
"amounts to eleven thousand gulden net."

"Correct, Consul," replied Willi in a military tone.

"Do you want it in writing?" asked the consul, "or is that not necessary?"

"Not necessary," remarked First Lieutenant Wimmer gruffly.
"We're all witnesses."

The consul paid no attention either to him or to the tone of his voice. Willi was still sitting at the table. His legs felt as heavy as lead.
Eleven thousand gulden-not bad! About three or four years' salary, including bonuses. Wimmer and Greising were speaking together in low
and agitated tones. Elrief was evidently saying something very funny to
the theatre manager, as the latter burst into laughter. Fraulein Rihoscheck
stood next to the consul and addressed a question to him, which he answered in the negative with a shake of his head. The waiter helped the
consul into his cape, a wide, black, armless cape with a velvet collar
which had recently impressed Willi as very elegant, though somewhat
eccentric. The actor Elrief quickly poured himself a last glass of cognac
from the almost empty bottle. It seemed to Willi that they were all avoiding having to trouble themselves with him, even to look at him. He now
rose abruptly. Suddenly Tugut, who, to Willi's surprise, had returned,
stood near him, seemed to grope for words, and finally said, "You can
find the money by tomorrow morning, I hope?"

"But of course, Doctor," replied Willi, with a broad and empty
smile. Then he walked over to Wimmer and Greising and shook hands
with them. "Till next Sunday," he said lightly. They didn't answer, didn't
even nod.

"Are you ready, Lieutenant?" asked the consul.

"At your service!"

Willi now took his leave in a very cordial and animated manner, and
quite gallantly kissed Fraulein Rihoscheck's hand-it couldn't do him
any harm!

Everyone left. On the terrace the tables and chairs glowed a ghostly
white. Night still covered the city and the fields, though not a star remained to be seen. In the neighborhood of the train station the horizon
was beginning to lighten. The consul's carriage was waiting outside; the
coachman was sleeping with his feet on the dashboard. Schnabel touched
him on the shoulder and he awoke, lifted his hat, went to the horses, and
took off their blankets. The officers touched their caps once more, then
sauntered away. The manager, Elrief, and Fraulein Rihoscheck waited
until the driver was ready. Willi mused: why doesn't the consul stay in
Baden with Fraulein Rihoscheck? Why does he keep her if he doesn't
stay with her? It occurred to him that he had once heard of an older man who had suffered a stroke in the bed of his mistress, and he glanced
obliquely at the consul. The latter, however, seemed very fresh and
cheerful, not in the least ready for death, and-evidently to annoy El-
rief-he was just saying goodbye to Fraulein Rihoscheck with a delicate
caress that didn't seem in keeping with his usual manner. Then he invited
the lieutenant into the carriage, offered him the seat on the right, and at
the same time spread a light yellow blanket lined with brown fur over his
own and Willi's knees. Thus they drove off. Elrief lifted his hat once
more in a wide, sweeping gesture that was not without humor, in the
Spanish manner that he intended to use in the role of grandee that he
hoped to play in the course of the next season in some small, subsidized,
provincial theatre. As the carriage wheeled around to cross over the
bridge, the consul turned and waved a farewell to the three who were just
now strolling away arm in arm with Fraulein Rihoscheck in the middle.
Engrossed in lively conversation, they did not notice.

VIII

As they drove through the sleeping town, no sound could be heard except
the clattering of the horses' hoofs.

"It's a bit cool," remarked the consul.

Willi had little desire for conversation, but he recognized the need
to make some sort of reply, if only to keep the consul in a friendly mood.
So he said, "Yes, it's always refreshing in the early hours of the morning.
We soldiers learn that from maneuvers."

"About the twenty-four hours," began the consul after a short
pause, "we don't need to take that literally."

Willi breathed more easily and took the opportunity to say, "I was
just about to ask your indulgence, Consul, as I don't have the whole sum
at hand at this moment, as you can well understand."

"Of course," interrupted the consul. The hoofbeats clattered on,
echoing now as they drove under a viaduct out into open country. "If I
were to insist on the usual twenty-four hours," he continued, "you would
have to pay your debt tomorrow evening at half past two in the morning,
and that would be inconvenient for both of us. So let's set the hour"-he appeared to be considering the matter-"on Tuesday at 12 o'clock noon,
if that suits you."

He took a visiting card from his wallet and gave it to Willi, who
scrutinized it. Dawn had progressed enough that he could read the ad-
dress-Helfersdorferstrasse 5. Not more than five minutes from the military barracks, he mused.

"Tomorrow, then, Consul, at twelve noon?" he said, and he could
feel his heart beat faster.

"Yes, Lieutenant, that's what I had in mind. Tuesday at twelve
o'clock sharp. I'll be in my office from nine o'clock in the morning on."

"And if I were not able to pay at that hour, Consul-if, for example,
I could not satisfy you before that afternoon or on Wednesday ..."

The consul interrupted him. "You'll be in a position to pay, Lieutenant, I have no doubt. Since you sat down to play, you must naturally
also have been prepared to lose, just as I had to be, and if you don't have
a private fortune, you can, at any rate, expect that your parents will not
let you down."

"I have no parents anymore," answered Willi quickly, and as Schnabel allowed a sympathetic noise to escape him, he added, "my mother
has been dead for eight years, and my father died five years ago, as a
lieutenant colonel in Hungary."

"So, your father was also an officer?" The consul's tone sounded
sympathetic, almost warmhearted.

"Yes, Consul. Who knows if I would have chosen a military career
under other circumstances!"

"It's remarkable," the consul agreed, "when you think about it, how
some people's entire life is, so to speak, all planned out in advance, while
others change theirs from one year, sometimes even from one day, to the
next...." He paused, shaking his head. Somehow this altogether general, not quite finished sentence struck Willi as reassuring. And in order,
if possible, to cement this new relationship with the consul still further,
he too searched for a general, somewhat philosophical observation; without thinking it through enough, as he immediately realized, he remarked
that there were sometimes officers, too, who were obliged to change their
careers.

"Yes," replied the consul, "that's true, but it's mostly not by their
own free choice. They are, or rather, they feel themselves to be, embarrassingly compromised, and it's usually not possible for them to go back
to their former profession. On the other hand, people such as myself-I
mean, people who through no privilege of birth or rank or-something
else-are prevented-I myself, for example, have been down and up half
a dozen times at least. And how low-ah, if you and your comrades
knew how low I've been, you would probably not have sat down with me
at a gaming table! That's probably why you and your comrades preferred
not to inquire too carefully about me before sitting down with me!"