A Country House Near New York Amerika

'Well, here we are,' said Mr Pollunder in one of Karl's most absent moments; The car was standing before a house which, like the country houses of most rich people in the neighbourhood of New York, was larger and taller than a country house designed for only one family has any need to be. Since there were no lights except in the lower part of the house, it was quite impossible to estimate how high the building was. In front of it rustled chestnut trees and between them - the gate was already open - a short path led to the frontdoor steps. Karl felt so tired on getting out that he began to suspect the journey must have been fairly long after all. In the darkness of the chestnut avenue he heard a girl’s voice saying beside him : ‘So this is Mr Jacob at last/

‘My name is Rossmann,' said Karl, taking the hand held out to him by a girl whose silhouette he could now perceive.

‘He is only Jacob’s nephew,' said Mr Pollunder in explanation, ‘his own name is Karl Rossmann/

‘That doesn’t make us any the less glad to see him,' said the girl, who did not bother much about names.

All the same Karl insisted on asking, while he walked towards the house between Mr Pollunder and the girl : ‘Are you Miss Clara?’

‘Yes,' she said, and now a little light from the house picked out her face, which was inclined towards him, ‘but I didn’t want to introduce myself. here in the darkness/

‘Why, has she been waiting for us at the gate?’ thought Karl, gradually wakening up as he walked along.

‘By the way, we have another guest this evening,' said Clara.

‘Impossible ! ’ cried Pollunder irritably.

‘Mr Green,' said Clara.

‘When did he come?’ asked Karl, as if seized by a premonition.

‘Just a minute ago. Didn’t you hear his car in front of yours?’

Karl looked up at Mr Pollunder to discover what he thought of the situation, but his hands were thrust into his trouser pockets and he merely stamped his feet a little on the path.

‘It’s no good living just outside New York; it doesn’t save you from being disturbed. We’ll simply have to get a house farther away; even if I have to spend half the night driving before I get home/

They remained standing by the steps.

‘But it’s a long time since Mr Green was here last,' said Clara, who obviously agreed with her father yet wanted to soothe him and take him out of himself.

‘Why should he come just this evening?’ said Pollunder, and the words rolled furiously over his sagging lower lip, which like all loose, heavy flesh was easily agitated.

‘Why indeed ! ’ said Clara.

‘Perhaps he’ll soon go away again/ remarked Karl himself astonished at the sympathy uniting him to these people who had been complete strangers to him a day ago.

‘Oh no,' said Clara, ‘he has some great business or other with Papa which will probably take a long time to settle, for he has already threatened me in fun that I’ll have to sit up till morning if I’m going to play the polite hostess.’

‘That’s the last straw. So he’s going to stay all night!’ cried Pollunder, as if nothing could be worse. ‘I really feel half inclined,' he said, and the idea restored some of his good humour, ‘I really feel half inclined Mr Rossmann, to put you in the car again and drive you straight back to your uncle.

This evening’s spoilt beforehand, and who knows when your uncle will trust you here again. But if I bring you back tonight he won’t be able to refuse us your company next time.’

And he took hold of Karl’s hand, to carry out his plan on the instant. But Karl made no move and Clara begged her father to let him stay, since she and Karl at least need not let Mr Green disturb them at all, and finally Pollunder himself grew aware that his resolution was not of the firmest. Besides - and that was perhaps the decisive thing - they suddenly heard Mr Green shouting from the top of the steps down into the garden : ‘Where on earth are you?’

‘Coming,’ said Pollunder and he began to climb the steps. Behind him came Karl and Clara, who now studied each other in the light.

‘What red Bps she has,' Karl said to himself, and he thought of Mr Pollunder’s lips and how beautifully they had been metamorphosed in his daughter.

‘After dinner,’ she said, ‘we’ll go straight to my room, if you would like that, so that we at least can be rid of Mr Green, even if Papa has to put up with him. And then perhaps you’ll be so kind as to play the piano for me, for Papa has told me how well you can play; I’m sorry to say I’m quite incapable of practising and never touch my piano, much as I really love music.’

Karl was quite prepared to fall in with Clara’s suggestion, though he would have liked to have Mr Pollunder join them as well. But the sight of Green’s gigantic figure - he had already got used to Pollunder’s bulk - which gradually loomed above them as they climbed the steps, dispelled all Karl’s hopes of luring Mr Pollunder away from the man that evening.

Mr Green hailed them in a great hurry, as if much time had already been lost, took Mr Pollunder’s arm, and pushed Karl and Clara before him into the dining-room which, chiefly because of the flowers on the table rising from sprays

of green foliage, looked very festive and so made the presence of the importunate Mr Green doubly regrettable. Karl was just consoling himself, as he waited beside the table until the others were seated, with the thought that the great glass doors leading to the garden would remain open, for a strong fragrance was wafted in as if one sat in an arbour, when Mr Green snorted and rushed to close these very glass doors, bending down to the bolts at the bottom, stretching up to the ones at the top, and all with such youthful agility that the servant, when he hurried across, found nothing left to do. Mr Green's first words when he returned to the table expressed his astonishment that Karl had obtained his uncle’s permission to make this visit. He raised one spoonful of soup after another to his mouth and explained to Clara on his right and to Mr Pollunder on his left why he was so astonished, and how solicitously Uncle Jacob watched over Karl, so that his affection for Karl was too great to be called the mere affection of an uncle.

'Not content with his uncalled-for interference here, he insists on interfering between me and my uncle, too,’ thought Karl, and he could not swallow a drop of the golden-coloured soup. But then, not wishing to show how upset he felt, he began silently to pour the soup down his throat. The meal went on with torturing slowness. Mr Green alone, assisted by Clara, showed any liveliness and found occasion for a short burst of laughter now and then. Mr Pollunder let himself be drawn into the conversation once or twice, when Mr Green started to talk about business. But he soon withdrew even from such discussions and Mr Green had to surprise him into speech by bringing them up again unexpectedly. Moreover, Mr Green kept insisting on the fact (and at this point Karl, who was listening as intently as if something were threatening him, had to be told by Clara that the roast was at his elbow and that he was at a dinner party) that he had had no intention beforehand of paying this unexpected visit. For though the business he came to discuss was of

62 ’ SM

special urgency, yet the most important part of it at least could have been settled in town that day, leaving the minor details to be tackled next day or later. And so, long before closing hours, he had actually called at Mr Pollunder’s office, but had not found him there, and so he had had to telephone home that he would not be back that night and to drive out here.

Then I must ask your pardon,' said Karl loudly, before anyone else had time to answer, 'for I am to blame that Mr Pollunder left his office early today, and I am very sorry/ Mr Pollunder tried to cover his face with his table napkin, while Clara, though she smiled at Karl, smiled less out of sympathy than out of a desire to influence him in some way.

'No apology is required,' said Mr Green, carving a pigeon with incisive strokes of the knife, 'quite the contrary, I am delighted to pass the evening in such pleasant company instead of dining alone at home, where I have only an old housekeeper to wait on me, and she's so old that it's as much as she can do to get from the door to the table, and I can lean right back in my chair for minutes at a time to watch her making the journey. It wasn’t until recently that I managed to persuade her to let my man carry the dishes as far as the door of the dining-room; but the journey from the door to the table is her perquisite, so far as I can make out,' 'Heavens/ cried Clara, 'what fidelity ! 9 'Yes, there’s still fidelity in the world,' said Mr Green, putting a slice of pigeon into his mouth, where his tongue, as Karl chanced to notice, took it in charge with a flourish. Karl felt nearly sick and got up. Almost simultaneously Mr Pollunder and Clara caught him by the hands.

‘It’s not time to get up yet,' said Clara. And when he had sat down again she whispered to him : 'We’ll escape together in a'little while. Have patience/

Meanwhile, Mr Green had calmly gone on eating, as if it were Mr Pollunder’s and Clara’s natural duty to comfort Karl after he had made him sick.

The dinner was lingered out particularly by the exhaustiveness with which Mr Green dissected each course, which did not keep him however from attacking each new course with fresh energy; it really looked as if he were resolved radically to recuperate from the offices of his old housekeeper. Now and again he bestowed praise on Miss Clara’s expertness in housekeeping, which visibly flattered her, while Karl on the contrary felt tempted to ward it off, as if it were an assault. Mr Green, however, was not content with attacking Clara, but deplored frequently, without looking up from his plate, Karl’s extraordinary lack of appetite. Mr Pollunder defended Karl’s lack of appetite, although as the host he should have encouraged him to eat. And because of the constraint under which he had suffered during the whole dinner, Karl grew so touchy that against his better knowledge he actually construed Mr Pollunder’s words as an unkindness. And it was another symptom of his condition that all at once he would eat far too much with indecorous speed, only to sit drooping for a long time afterwards, letting his knife and fork rest on the table, quite silent and motionless, so that the man who served the dishes often did not know what to do with them.

Til have to tell your uncle the Senator tomorrow how you offended Miss Clara by not eating your dinner,’ said Mr Green, and he betrayed the facetious intention of his words only by the way in which he plied his knife and fork.

‘just look at the girl, how downcast she is,’ he went on, chucking Clara under the chin. She let him do it and closed her eyes.

'Poor little thing ! ’ he cried, leaning back, purple in the face, and laughing with the vigour of a full-fed man. Karl vainly sought to account for Mr Pollunder’s behaviour. He was sitting looking at his plate, as if the really important event were happening there. He did not pull Karl’s chair closer to him and, when he did speak, he spoke to the whole table, while to Karl he had nothing particular to say. On the

other hand he suffered Green, that disreputable old New York roue deliberately to fondle Clara, to insult himself, Karl, Pollunder’s guest, or at least to treat him like a child, and to go on from strength to strength, working himself up to who knew what dreadful deeds.

After rising from the table - when Green noticed the general intention he was the first to get up and as it were drew all the others with him - Karl turned aside to one of the great windows set in narrow white sashes which opened on to the terrace, and which in fact, as he saw on going nearer, were really doors. What had become of the dislike which Mr Pollunder and his daughter had felt in the beginning for Green, and which had seemed at that time somewhat incomprehensible to Karl? Now they were standing side by side with the man and nodding at him. The smoke

' from Mr Green’s cigar, a present from Pollunder - a cigar of a thickness which Karl’s father in Austria had sometimes mentioned as an actual fact but had probably never seen with his own eyes - spread through the room and bore Green’s influence even into nooks and corners where he would never set -foot in person. Far off as he was, Karl could feel his nose prickling with the smoke, and Mr Green's demeanour, wliich he merely glanced at from the window with a hasty turn of the head, seemed infamous to him. He began to think it not at all inconceivable that his uncle had demurred for so long against giving permission for this visit simply because he knew Mr Poliunder’s weak character and accordingly envisaged as a possibility, even if1 he did not exactly foresee, that Karl might be exposed to insult. As for the American girl, Karl did not like her either, although she was very nearly as beautiful as he had pictured her. Ever since Mr Green’s gallantries began he had been actually surprised by the' beauty of which her face was capable, and especially by the brilliance of her lively eyes. A dress which fitted so closely to its wearer’s body he had never seen before; small wrinkles in the soft, closely-woven, yellowish material, betrayed the

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force of the tension. And yet Karl cared nothing for her and would gladly have given up all thought of going to her room, if instead he could only open the door beside him - and he had laid his hands on the latch just in case - and climb into the car or, if the chauffeur were already asleep, walk by himself back to New York. The clear night with its benevolent full moon was free to everyone and to be afraid of anything out there, in the open, seemed senseless to Karl. He pictured to himself - and for the first time he began to feel happy in that room - how in the morning - he could hardly get back on foot sooner than that - he would surprise his uncle. True, he had never yet been in his uncle's bedroom, nor did he even know where it was, but he would soon find that out. Then he would knock at the door and at the formal 'come in' rush into the room and surprise his dear uncle, whom until now he had known only fully dressed and buttoned to the chin, sitting up in bed in his nightshirt, his astonished eyes fixed on the door. In itself that might not perhaps be very much, but one had only to consider what consequences it might lead to. Perhaps he might breakfast with his uncle for the first time, his uncle in bed, he himself sitting on a chair, the breakfast on a little table between them; perhaps that breakfast together would become a standing arrangement; perhaps as a result of such informal breakfasting, as was almost inevitable, they would meet oftener than simply once a day and so of course be able to speak more frankly to each other. After all, it was merely the lack of a frank interchange of confidences that had made him a little refractory/or better still, mulish, towards his uncle today. And even if he had to spend the night here on this occasion - and unfortunately it looked very like that, although they left him to stand by the window and amuse himself - perhaps this unlucky visit would become the turningpoint in his relations with his uncle; perhaps his uncle was lying in bed and thinking the very same things at that moment.

A little comforted, he turned round. Clara was standing beside him saying: ‘Don’t you like being with us at all? Won’t you try to make yourself a little more at home here? Come on, I’ll make a last attempt.’

She led him across the room towards the door. At a side table the two gentlemen were sitting, drinking out of tall glasses a light effervescent liquid which was unknown to Karl and which he would have liked to taste. Mr Green had his elbows on the table and his face was pushed as close to Mr Pollunder as he could get it; if one had\not known Mr Pollunder, one might quite easily have suspected that some criminal plan was being discussed here and no legitimate business. While Mr Pollunder’s eyes followed Karl to the door with a friendly look, Mr Green, though as a rule one’s eyes involuntarily follow those of the man one is talking to, did not once glance round at Karl; and it seemed to Karl that in behaving like this Green was pointing his conviction that each of them, Karl on his part and Green on his, must fight for his own hand and that any obligatory social connexion between them would be determined in time by the victory or destruction of one of them.

‘If that’s what he thinks,’ Karl told himself, ‘he's a fool. I really don’t want anything from him and he should leave me in peace.’

Hardly had he set foot in the corridor when it occurred to him that he had probably been discourteous, for his eyes had been so firmly fixed on Green that Clara had had almost to drag him from the room. He went all* the more willingly with her ijow. As they passed along the corridors he could scarcely credit his eyes at first, when at every twenty paces he saw a servant in rich livery holding a huge candelabrum with a shaft so thick that both the man’s hands were required to grasp it.

‘The new electric wiring has been laid on only in the dining-room so far,’ explained Clara. ‘We’ve just newly bought this house and we’re having it completely reconstructed, that

is so far as an old house with all its odd peculiarities can be reconstructed.’

’So you have actually old houses in America too,' said Karl.

’Of course,' said Clara with a laugh, pulling him along. ’You have some queer ideas about America/

’You shouldn’t laugh at me,' he said in vexation. After all he knew both Europe and America, while she knew only America.

In passing, Clara flung a door open with a light push of her hand and said without stopping: ‘That’s where you’re going to sleep/

Karl of course wanted to look at the room straight away, but Clara exclaimed with impatience, raising her voice almost to shouting pitch, that there was plenty of time for that later and that he must come with her first. They had a kind of tug-of-war in the corridor until it came into Karl’s mind that he need not do everything Clara told him, and he wrested himself free and stepped into the room. The surprising darkness outside the window was explained by the spreading branches of a large tree swaying there. He could hear the twitter of birds. To be sure, in the room itself, which the moonlight had not yet reached, one could distinguish hardly anything. Karl felt sorry that he had not brought the electric torch which his uncle had given him. In this house an electric torch was absolutely indispensable; given a couple of torches, the servants could have been sent to their beds. He sat down on the window-ledge and stared out into the darkness, listening. A bird which he had disturbed seemed to be fluttering through the leafage of the old tree. The whistle of a suburban train sounded somewhere across the fields. Otherwise all was still.

But not for long, for Clara came rushing in. Visibly furious, she cried: ’What’s the meaning of this?’ and beat her hand against her skirt. Karl decided not to answer her until she should show more politeness. But she advanced upon him

with long strides, exclaiming: 'Well, are you coming with me or are you not?' and either intentionally or in sheer agitation struck him so hard on the chest that he would have fallen out of the window if at the very last minute he had not launched himself from the window-ledge so that his feet touched the floor.

‘I might have fallen out of the window,' he said reproachfully. - '

'It’s a pity you didn’t. Why are you so uncivil? I’ll push you right out next time.’

And she actually seized him and carried him in her athletic arms almost as far as the window, since he was too surprised to remember to brace himself. But then he came to his senses, freed himself with a twist of the hips and caught hold of her instead.

‘Oh, you’re hurting me ! ’ she said at once.

But now Karl felt that it was not safe to let her go. He gave her freedom to take any steps she liked, but followed her close, keeping hold of her. It was easy enough to grip her in her tight dress.

‘Let me go,’ she whispered, her flushed face so close to his that he had to strain to see her. ‘Let me go; I’ll give you something you don’t expect.’ - ‘Why is she sighing like that?’ thought Karl. 'It can’t hurt her, I’m not squeezing her/ and he still did not let her go. But suddenly, after a moment of unguarded, silent immobility, he again felt her strength straining against his body and she had broken away from him, locked him in a well-applied wrestling hold, knocked his legs from under him by some foot-work in a technique strange to him and thrust him before her with amazing control, panting a little, to the wall. But there was a sofa by the wall on which she laid him down, keeping at a safe ’distance from him, and said : ‘Now move if you can.’

‘Cat, wild gat !’ was all that Karl could shout in the confusion of rage and shame which he felt within him. 'You must be crazy, you wild cat ! ’

Take care what you say,’ she said and she slipped one hand to his throat, on which she began to press so strongly that Karl could only gasp for breath, while she swung the other fist against his cheek, touching it as if experimentally, and then again and again drew it back, farther and farther, ready to give him a buffet at any moment.

'What would you say,' she asked, 'if I punished you for your rudeness to a lady by sending you home with your ears well boxed? It might do you good for the rest of your life, although you wouldn't care to remember it. I'm really sorry about you, you’re a passably good-looking boy, and if you'd learned ju-jutsu you'd probably have beaten me. All the same, all the same - I feel enormously tempted to box your ears for you now that you're lying there. I’d probably regret it; but if I should do it, let me tell you that it'll be because I can’t help it. And of course it won't be only one box on the ear I’ll give you, but I’ll let fly right and left till you’re black and blue. And perhaps you’re one of these men of honour - I could easily believe it - and couldn’t survive the disgrace of having your ears boxed, and would have to do away with yourself. But why were you so horrid to me? Don't you like me ? Isn’t it worth while to come to my room ? Ah, look out ! I very nearly let fly at you by accident just now. And if I let you off tonight, see that you behave better next time. I’m not your uncle to put up with your tantrums. Anyhow, let me point out that if I let you off now, you needn’t think that the disgrace is all the same whether your ears are boxed or not. I’d rather box your ears soundly for you than have you thinking that. I wonder what Mack will say when I tell him about all this?'

At the thought of Mack she loosened her grip; in his muzzy confusion Karl saw Mack as a deliverer. For a little while he could still feel Clara's hand on his throat, and so he squirmed for a few minutes before lying still.

She urged him to get up; he neither answered nor stirred. She lit a candle somewhere, the room grew light, a blue

zig-zag pattern appeared on the ceiling, but Karl lay with his head on the sofa cushion exactly as Clara had placed it and did not move a finger's breadth. Clara walked round the room, her skirt rustling about her legs; she seemed to pause for a long time by the window.

‘Got over your tantrums?' he heard her asking at last. Karl thought it hard that in this room which Mr Poll under had assigned him- for the night he could find no peace. The girl kept wandering about, stopping and talking now and then, and he was heartily sick of her. All he wanted to do was to fall asleep at once and get out of the place later. He did not even want to go to bed, he merely wanted to stay where he was on the sofa. He was only waiting for the girl to leave, so that he could spring to the door after her, bolt it, and then fling himself back on the sofa again. He felt an intense need to stretch and yawn, but he did not want to do that before Clara. And so he lay staring at the ceiling, feeling his face becoming more and more rigid, and a fly which was hovering about flitted before his eyes without his quite knowing what it was.

Clara stepped over to him again and leaned across his line of vision; and if he had not made an effort he would have had to look at her.

‘I'm going now,' she said. ‘Perhaps later on you'll feel like coming to see me. The door is the fourth from this one on the same side of the corridor. You pass the three next doors, that's to say, and the one after that is the right one. I’m not going downstairs again; I shall just stay in my room. You've made me thoroughly tired too. I shan’t exactly expect you, but if you want to come, then come. Remember that you promised to play the piano for me. But perhaps you’re feeling quite prostrate and can’t move; well then, stay here and have a good sleep. I shan’t tell my father anything about our little scuffle, not for the present; I* mention that merely in case you start worrying about it.’ And in spite of her ostensible tiredness she ran lightly out of the room.

Karl at once sat up; this lying down had already become unendurable. For the sake of using his limbs he went to the door and looked out into the corridor. But how dark it was ! He felt glad when he had shut the door and bolted it and stood again by his table in the light of the candle. He made up his mind to stay no longer in this house, but to go down to Mr Pollunder, tell him frankly how Clara had treated him - admitting his defeat did not matter a straw to him - and with that abundant justification ask leave to drive or to walk home. If Mr Pollunder had any objection to his immediate return, then Karl would at least ask him to instruct a servant to conduct him to the nearest hotel. As a rule, hosts were not treated in the way which Karl planned, but still more seldom were guests treated as Clara had treated him. She had actually regarded as a kindness her promise to say nothing to Mr Pollunder about their scuffle, and that was really too outrageous. Had he been invited to a wrestling match, then, that he should be ashamed of being thrown by a girl who had apparently spent the greater part of her life in learning wrestling holds ? After all, she had probably been taking lessons from Mack. She could tell him everything if she liked; he was certainly intelligent, Karl felt sure of that, although he had never had occasion to prove it in any single instance. But Karl knew also that if he were to have lessons from Mack he would make much greater progress than Clara had done; then he could come here again one day, most likely without any invitation, would begin by studying the scene of action, an exact knowledge of which had been a great advantage to Clara, and then he would seize that same Clara and fling her down on the very sofa where she had flung him tonight.

Now he had merely to find his way back to the diningroom, where in his first embarrassment he had probably laid down his hat in some unsuitable place. Of course he would take the candle with him, but even with a light it was not easy to find one's bearings. For instance, he did not even

know whether this room was on the same floor as the diningroom. On the way here Clara had kept pulling him, so that he had no chance to look around him. Mr Green and the servants with the great candlesticks had also given him something to think about; in short, he actually could not remember whether they had climbed one or two flights of stairs or none at all. To judge from the view, the room was fairly high up, and so he tried to convince himself that they must have climbed stairs; yet at the front door there had been steps to climb, so why should not this side of the house be raised above ground-level too? If only there were a ray of light to be seen from some door in the corridor or a voice to be heard in the distance, no matter how faintly !

His watch, a present from his uncle, pointed to eleven; he took the candle and went out into the corridor. The door he left open, so that if his search should prove unsuccessful he might at least find his room again and in case of dire need the door of Clara's room. For safety he fixed the door open with a chair, so that it might not shut of itself. In the corridor he made the unwelcome discovery - naturally he turned to the left, away from Clara's room - that there was a draught blowing against his face, which though quite feeble might nevertheless easily blow out the candle, so that he had to guard the flame with his hand and often stop altogether to let the dying flame recover. It was a slow method of progress and it made the way seem doubly long. Karl had already passed great stretches of blank wall completely devoid of doors; one could not imagine what lay behind them. And then he came to one door after another; he tried to open several of them; they were locked and the rooms obviously unoccupied. It was an incredible squandering of space and Karl thought of the east end of New York which his uncle had promised to show him, where it was said that several families lived in one little room an$l the home of a whole family consisted of one corner where the children clustered round their parents. And here so many rooms stood empty

and seemed to exist merely to make a hollow sound when you knocked on the door. Mr Pollunder seemed to Karl to be misled by false friends and infatuated with his daughter, which was his ruin. Uncle Jacob had certainly judged him rightly, and only his axiom that it was not his business to influence Karl's judgement of other people was responsible for this visit and all this wandering through corridors. Tomorrow Karl would tell his uncle that quite frankly, for if he followed his own axiom his uncle should be glad to hear a nephew's judgement even on himself. Besides, that axiom was probably the only thing in his uncle which displeased Karl, and even that displeasure was not unqualified.

Suddenly the wall on one side of the corridor came to an end and an ice-cold, marble balustrade appeared in its place. Karl set the candle beside him and cautiously leaned over. A breath of dark emptiness met him. If this was the main hall of the house - in the glimmer of the candle a piece of vaultlike ceiling could be seen - why had they not come in through it? What purpose could be served by this great, deep chamber? One stood here as if in the gallery of a church. Karl almost regretted that he could not stay in the house till morning; he would have liked Mr Pollunder to show him all round it by daylight and explain everything to him.

The balustrade was quite short and soon Karl was once more groping along a closed corridor. At a sudden turning he ran full tilt into the wall, and only the unswerving care with which he convulsively held the candle saved it from falling and going out. As the corridor seemed to have no end - no window appeared through which he could see where he was, nothing stirred either above him or below him - Karl began to think that he was going round in a circle and had a faint hope that he would come to the door of his room again; but neither it nor the balustrade reappeared. Until now he had refrained from shouting, for he did not want to raise a noise in a strange house at such a late hour; but now he realized that it would not matter in this unlighted house.

and he was just preparing to send a loud Tialoo' echoing along the corridor in both directions when he noticed a little light approaching from behind him, the way that he had come. Now at last he could realize the length of that straight corridor. This house was a fortress, not a mansion. His joy on seeing that saving light was so great that he forgot all caution and ran towards it. At the first few steps he took, his candle blew out. But he paid no attention, for he did not need it any longer; here was an old servant with a lantern coming towards him and he would soon show him the right way.

‘Who are you?' asked the servant, holding the lantern up to Karl's face and illumining his own as well. His face had a somewhat formal look because of a great white beard which ended on his breast in silken ringlets. ‘He must be a faithful servant if they let him wear a beard like that,' thought Karl, gazing fixedly at the beard in all its length and breadth, without feeling any constraint because he himself was being observed in turn. He replied at once that he was a guest of Mr Pollunder's, that he had left his room to go to the diningroom, but could not find it.

‘Oh yes,' said the servant, ‘we haven't had the electric light laid on yet.' ' \

‘I know,' said Karl.

‘Won’t you light your candle at my lantern?' asked the servant.

‘If you please,' said Karl, doing so.

‘There's such a draught here in the corridors,' said the servant. ‘Candles easily get blown out; that’s why I have a lantern.'

‘Yes, a lantern is much more practical,' said Karl.

‘Why, you're all covered with candle-drippings,' said the servant, holding up the candle to Karl's suit.

I never even noticed it !’ cried Karl, feeling distressed, for it was his black suit, which his uncle said looked best of all upon him. His wrestling match with Clara could not have

been very good for the suit either, it now occurred to him. The servant was obliging enough to clean the suit as well as could be done on the spot: Karl kept turning round and showing him another mark here and there, which the man obediently removed.

‘But why should there be such a draught here?’ asked Karl , as they went on again.

Well, there's a great deal of building still to be done,' said the servant. ‘The reconstruction work has been started, of course, but it's getting on very slowly. And now the builders' workmen have gone on strike, as perhaps you know. Building up a house like this gives lots of trouble. Several large breaches have been made in the walls, which nobody has filled in, and the draught blows through the whole house. If I didn't stuff my ears with cotton-wool I couldn't stand it/

‘Then shouldn't I speak louder?' asked Karl.

‘No, you have a clear voice,' said the servant. ‘But to come back to this building; especially in this part, near the chapel, which will certainly have to be shut off from the rest of the house later, the draught is simply unendurable.'

‘So the balustrade along this corridor gives on to a chapel?'

‘Yes.'

‘I thought that at the time,' said Karl.

‘It is well worth seeing,' said the servant. ‘If it hadn't been for that, Mr Mack probably wouldn’t have bought the house.'

‘Mr Mack?' asked Karl. ‘I thought the house belonged to Mr Pollunder.'

‘Yes, certainly,' said the servant, ‘but it was Mr Mack who decided the purchase. Don't you know Mr Mack?'

‘Oh yes,' said Karl. ‘But what connexion does he have with Mr Pollunder?'

‘He is the young lady's fiance,' said the servant.

‘I certainly didn’t know that,' said Karl, stopping short.

‘Do you find that so surprising?' asked the servant.

‘I’m only thinking it over. If you don’t know about such

connexions, you can easily make the worst kind of mistakes/ replied Karl.

I'm only surprised that they haven’t told you about it,' said the servant.

‘Yes, that’s true,' said Karl, feeling abashed.

‘Probably they thought you knew,' said the servant, ‘it’s old news by this time. But here we are,’ and he opened a door behind which appeared a stair that led straight down to the back door of the dining-room which was still as brightly illumined as at Karl’s arrival.

Before Karl went down to the dining-room, from which the voices of Mr Pollunder and Mr Green could be heard still talking as they had talked two hours before, the servant said: ‘If you like, I’ll wait for you here and take you back to your room. It’s always difficult to find one’s way about here on the first evening/

‘My room will never see me again,' said Karl, without knowing why he felt sad as he gave this information.

‘It won’t be so bad as all that,' said the servant, smiling in a slightly superior way and patting him on the arm. Probably he construed Karl’s words as meaning that Karl intended to stay up all night in the dining-room, talking and drinking with the two gentlemen. Karl did not want to make any confessions just then, also he reflected that this servant, whom 'he liked better than the other servants in the house, would be able to direct him on his way to New York, and so he said: ‘If you would wait here, it would certainly be a great kindness and I gratefully accept it. I’ll come up in a little while, in any case, and tell you what I’m going to do. I think that I may need your help yet.’ ‘Good,' said the servant, setting his lantern on the floor and seating himself on a low pedestal, which was probably vacant on account of the reconstruction work. ‘I’ll wait here, then. You can leave the candle with me too,' he added, as Karl made to go downstairs with the lighted candle in his hand.

‘I’m not noticing what I’m doing,' said Karl, and he handed

the candle to the servant, who merely nodded to him, though it was impossible to say whether the nod was deliberate or whether it was caused by his stroking his beard with his hand.

Karl opened the door, which through no fault of his rattled noisily, for it consisted of a single glass panel that almost jumped from the frame if the door were opened quickly and held fast only by the handle. Karl let the door swing back again in alarm, for he had wanted to enter the room as quietly as possible. Without turning round he was aware that behind him the servant, who had apparently descended from his pedestal, was now shutting the door carefully and without the slightest sound.

'Forgive me for disturbing you,' he said to the two gentlemen, who stared at him with round, astonished faces. At the same time he flung a hasty glance round the room, to see if he could discover his hat somewhere. But it was nowhere to be seen; the dishes on the dining-table had all been cleared away; perhaps, he thought uncomfortably, the hat had been carried off to the kitchen along with them.

'But where have you left Clara?' asked Mr Pollunder, to whom the intrusion, however, did not seem to be unwelcome, for he at once changed his position in the chair and turned his face full upon Karl. Mr Green put on an air of indifference, pulled out a pocket-book, in size and thickness a giant of its kind, seemed to be searching in its many compartments for some particular paper, but during the search kept reading other papers which chanced to come his way.

'I have a request to make which you must not misunderstand,' said Karl, walking up hastily to Mr Pollunder and putting his hand on the arm of his chair, to get as near to him as he could.

'And what request can that be?’ asked Mr Pollunder, giving Karl a frank open look. ‘It is granted already.’ And he put his arm round Karl and drew him between his knees. Karl submitted willingly, though as a rule he felt much too

grown up for such treatment. But of course it made the utterance of his request all the more difficult.

'And how do you really like being here?' asked Mr Pollunder. 'Don’t you find that one gets a kind of free feeling on coming out of the town into the country? Usually’ - and he looked askance at Mr Green, a glance of unmistakable meaning, which was partly screened by Karl - 'usually I get that feeling every evening.’

'He talks,' thought Karl, 'as if he knew nothing about this huge house, the endless corridors, the chapel, the empty rooms, the darkness everywhere.’

'Well,' said Mr Pollunder, 'out with your request!’ And he gave Karl, who stood silent, a friendly shake.

'Please,' said Karl, and much as he lowered his voice he could not keep Green, sitting there, from hearing everything, though he would gladly have concealed from him this request, which might easily be construed as an insult to Pollunder - 'Please let me go home now, late as it is.’

And once he had put the worst into words, all the rest came pouring out after it, and he said without the slightest insincerity things of which he had never even thought before. 'I want above all to get home. I’ll be glad to come again, for wherever you are, Mr Pollunder, I’ll always be glad to stay. Only tonight I can’t stay here. You know that my uncle was unwilling to give me permission for this visit. He must have had good reasons for that, as for everything that he does, and I had the presumption literally to force permission from him against his better judgement. I simply exploited his affection for me. It doesn’t matter at all what his objections were; all that I know with absolute certainty is that there was nothing in these objections which could offend you, Mr Pollunder, for you’re the best, the very best friend that my uncle has. Nobody else can even remotely be compared with you among my uncle’s friends. And that is the only excuse for my disobedience, though an insufficient one. You probably have no first-hand knowledge of the relations between my

uncle and me, so I’ll mention only the main points. Until my English studies are finished and while I am still insufficiently versed in practical things, I am entirely dependent on my uncle’s kindness, which I can accept, of course, being a relation. You mustn’t think that I’m in a position yet to earn my living decently - and God forbid that I should do it in any other way. I’m afraid my education has been too impractical for that. I managed to scrape through four classes of a European High School with moderate success, and for earning a livelihood that means less than nothing, for our schools are very much behind the times in their teaching methods. You would laugh if I were to tell you the kind of things I learned. If a boy can go on studying, finish his school course and enter the University, then, probably, it all straightens out in the long run and he finishes up with a proper education that lets him do something and gives him the confidence to set about earning a living. But unluckily I was tom right out of that systematic course of study. Sometimes I think I know nothing, and in any case the best of my knowledge wouldn’t be adequate for America. Some of the high schools in my country have been reformed recently, teaching modem languages and perhaps even commercial subjects, but when I left my primary school there were none of these. My father certainly wanted me to learn English, but in the first place I couldn’t foresee then that I would have such bad luck and that I would actually need English, and in the second place I had to learn a great deal of other things at school, so that I didn’t have much time to spare - I mention all this to show you how dependent I am on my uncle, and how deeply I am bound to him in consequence. You must admit that in these circumstances I am not in a position to offend in the slightest against even his unexpressed wishes. And so if I am to make good even half of the offence which I have committed against him, I must go home at once.’

During this long speech of Karl’s, Mr Pollunder had

80 j

listened attentively, now and then tightening his arm round Karl, though imperceptibly, particularly when Uncle Jacob was mentioned, and several times gazing seriously and as if expectantly at Green, who was still occupied with his pocketbook. But Karl had felt more and more restless the more clearly he became aware of his relation to his uncle during his speech, and involuntarily he struggled to free himself from Pollunder’s arm. Everything cramped him here; the road leading to his uncle through that glass door, down the steps, through the avenue, along the country roads, through the suburbs to the great main street where his uncle’s house was, seemed to him a strictly ordered whole, which lay there empty, smooth, and prepared for him, and called to him with a strong voice. Mr Pollunder’s kindness and Mr Green’s loathsomeness ran into a blur together, and all that he asked from that smoky room was permission to leave. He felt cut off from Mr Poll under, prepared to do battle against Mr Green, and yet all round him was a vague fear, whose impact troubled his sight.

He took a step back and now stood equally distant from Mr Pollunder and Mr Green.

‘Hadn’t you something to say to him ?’ asked Mr Pollunder, turning to Mr Green and seizing the man’s hand imploringly.

‘I don’t know what I could have to say to him,' said Mr Green, who had taken a letter from his pocket-book at last and laid it before him on the table. ‘It is to his credit that he wants to go back to his uncle, and one might naturally assume that that would give his uncle great pleasure. Unless he has angered his uncle already too deeply by his disobedience, which is only too possible. In that case it would certainly be better for him to stay here. It’s difficult to say anything definite; we’re both friends of his uncle and it would be hard to say whether Mr Pollunder’s or my friendship ranks highest; but we can’t see into his uncle’s mind, especially at so many miles’ distance from New York.’

Please, Mr Green,' said Karl, overcoming his distaste and

approaching Mr Green, ‘I can tell from what you say that you too think it would be best for me to go back at once/

‘I said nothing of the kind/ replied Mr Green, and he once more returned to his contemplation of the letter, running his fingers over the edges of it. Apparently he wished to indicate that he had been asked a question by Mr Pollunder and had answered it, while Karl was no concern of his at all.

Meanwhile Mr Pollunder stepped over to Karl and gently led him away from Mr Green to the big window.

‘Dear Mr Rossmann,' he said, bending down to Karl’s ear and as a preparation for what he had to say passing his handkerchief over his face until it encountered his nose, which he blew, ‘you must not think that I wish to keep you here against your will. There is no question of that. I can’t put the car at your disposal, I admit, for it’s parked in a public garage a good distance from here, since I haven’t had the time yet to build a garage for myself here, where everything is still under construction. The chauffeur again doesn’t sleep here but somewhere near the garage; I really don’t know where, myself. Besides, he isn’t supposed to be on duty just now; he’s merely expected to appear at the right time in the morning. But all this would be no obstacle to your returning at once, for if you insist upon it I’ll accompany you at once to the nearest railway station, though it’s so far away that you wouldn’t get home much sooner than if you came with me in my car tomorrow morning - we start at seven.’

‘Then, Mr Pollunder, I would rather go by train all the same,’ said Karl. ‘I never thought of the train. You say yourself that I would arrive sooner by train than if I left tomorrow in your car/

‘But it would make only a very little difference/

‘All the same, all the same, Mr Pollunder,’ said Karl, ‘I’ll always be glad to come here again, remembering your kindness, that is, of course, if after my behaviour tonight you ever invite me again; and perhaps next time I’ll be able to explain more clearly why every minute that keeps me away

from my uncle now is so important to me,' And as if he had already received permission to go away, he added : ‘But you mustn’t come with me on any account. It’s really quite unnecessary. There’s a servant outside who’ll be glad to show me the way to the station. Now, I have only to find my hat.’ And with these words he walked across the room to take a last hasty look, in case his hat were lying somewhere.

‘Perhaps I could help you out with a cap?’ said Mr Green, drawing a cap from his pocket. ‘Maybe it will serve you for the time being?’

Karl stopped in amazement and said : ‘But I can’t deprive you of your cap. I can go quite well with my head bare. I don't need anything.’

‘It isn’t my cap. You just take it ! ’

‘In that case, -thanks,’ said Karl, so as not to delay any longer, taking the cap. He put it on and could not help laughing, for it fitted him perfectly; then he took it off again and examined it, but could not find the particular thing that he was looking for; it seemed a perfectly new cap. ‘It fits so well ! ’ he said.

‘So the cap fits ! ’ cried Mr Green, thumping the table.

Karl was already on his way to the door to fetch the servant, when Mr Green got up, stretched himself after his ample meal and his long rest, struck himself resoundingly on the chest, and said in a voice between advice and command : ‘Before you go, you must say good-bye to Miss Clara.’

‘Yes, you must do that,’ agreed Mr Pollunder, who had also got up. From the way in which he spoke one could tell that the words did not come from his heart; he kept flapping his hands feebly against the side of his trousers and buttoning and re-buttoning his jacket, which after the fashion of the moment was quite short and scarcely reached his hips, an unbecoming garment for such a stout man as Mr Pollunder. One also had the definite feeling asjie stood there beside Mr Green that Mr Pollunder^ fatness was not a healthy fatness. His massive back was somewhat bent, his paunch looked soft

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and flabby, an actual burden, and his face was pallid and worried. Mr Green, on the other hand, was perhaps even fatter than Mr Pollunder, but it was a homogeneous, balanced fatness; he stood with his heels together like a soldier, he bore his head with a jaunty erectness. He looked like a great athlete, a captain of athletes.

Tou are to go first then/ Mr Green continued, ‘to Miss Clara. That is bound to be pleasant for you and it suits my tune-table excellently as well. For before you leave here I have as a matter of fact something of interest to tell you, which will probably also decide whether you are to go back or not. But I am unfortunately bound by my orders to divulge nothing to you before midnight. You can imagine that I'm sorry for that myself, since it upsets my night's rest, but I shall stick to my instructions. It is a quarter-past eleven now, so that I can finish discussing my business with Mr Pollunder, which you would only interrupt; besides, you can have a very pleasant time with Miss Clara. Then at twelve punctually you will report here, where you will learn what is necessary/

Could Karl reject this request, which demanded from him only the minimum of politeness and gratitude towards Mr Pollunder and which, moreover, had been put by a man customarily rude and indifferent, while Mr Pollunder, whom it really concerned, intervened neither by word nor glance? And what was the interesting news which he was not to learn until midnight? If it did not hasten his return by at least the forty-five minutes that it now made him waste, it would have little interest for him. But his greatest scruple was whether he dared visit Clara at all, seeing that she was his enemy. If only he had the stone-chisel with him which his uncle had given him as a letter weight ! Clara’s room might prove a really dangerous den. Yet it was quite impossible to say anything against Clara here, for she was Pollunder’s daughter and, as he had just heard, Mack’s fiancee as well. If she had only behaved a very little differently

towards him, he would have frankly admired her for her connexions. He was still considering all this when he perceived that no reflection was expected from him, for Green opened the door and said to the servant, who jumped up from his pedestal : ‘Conduct this young man to Miss Clara/

‘This is how commands are executed,' thought Karl, as the servant, almost running, groaning with infirmity, led him by a remarkably short cut to Clara’s room. As Karl was passing his own room, whose door was still open, he asked leave to go in for a minute, hoping to compose himself. But the servant would not allow it.

‘No,' he said, ‘you must come along to Miss Clara. You heard that yourself/

‘I only want to stay there a minute,' said Karl, thinking what a relief it. would be to lie on the sofa for a little, to quicken up the time between now and midnight.

‘Don’t obstruct me in the execution of my duty,' said the servant.

‘He seems to imagine it’s a punishment to be taken to Miss Clara,' thought Karl, and he went on a few steps, but then defiantly stoppedagain.

‘Do come, young sir,' said the servant, ‘since you’re still here. I know, that you wanted to leave this very night, but we don’t always get what we want, and I told you already that it would hardly be possible.’

‘I do want to leave and I will leave too,' said Karl, ‘and I’m merely going to say good-bye to Miss Clara.’

Ts that so?’ said the servant, and Karl could see that he did not believe a word of it. ‘Why are you so unwilling to say good-bye then? Do come along/

‘Who is that in the corridor?’ said Clara’s voice, and they saw her leaning out of a door near by, a big red-shaded tablelamp in her hand. The servant hurried up to her and gave his message; Karl slowly followed him. ‘You’re late in coming,' said Clara.

Without , answering her for the moment, Karl said to the

servant softly, but in a tone of stem command, for he already knew the man’s character: ‘You’ll wait for me just outside this door ! *

I was just going to bed,’ said Clara, setting the lamp on the table. As he had done in the dining-room, the servant carefully shut this door too from the outside. ‘It’s after halfpast eleven already.’

After half-past eleven?’ said Karl interrogatively, as if alarmed at these figures. ‘But in that case I must say good-bye at once,’ he went on, ‘for at twelve punctually I must be down in the dining-room.’

4 What urgent business you seem to have!’ said Clara, absently smoothing the folds of her loose nightdress. Her face was glowing and she kept on smiling. Karl decided that there was no danger of getting into another quarrel with Clara. ‘Couldn’t you play the piano for a little after all, as Papa promised yesterday and you yourself promised tonight?’

‘But isn’t it too late now?’ asked Karl. He would have liked to oblige her, for she was quite different now from what she had been before; it was as if she had somehow ascended into the Pollunder circle and into Mack’s as well.

‘Yes, it is late,’ she said, and her desire for music seemed already to have passed. ‘And every sound here echoes through the whole house; I’m afraid that if you play now it will waken up the very servants in the attics.’

‘Then I won’t bother to play; you see, I hope to come back again another day; besides, if it isn’t too great a bother, you might visit my uncle and have a look at my room while you are there. I have a marvellous piano. My uncle gave it to me. Then, if you like, I’ll play all my pieces to you; there aren’t many of them, unfortunately, and they don't suit such a fine instrument either, which needs a really great player to use it. But you may have the pleasure of hearing a good player if you tell me beforehand when you are coming, for my uncle means to engage a famous teacher for me - you can imagine how I look forward to it - and his playing would certainly

make it worth your while to pay me a visit during one of my lessons. To be quite frank, I'm glad that it's too late to play, for I can't really play yet, you would be surprised how badly I play. And now allow me to take my leave; after all it must be your bedtime.' And as Clara was looking at him with a kindly expression and seemed to bear him no ill-will because of the quarrel, he added with a smile, while he held out his hand: ‘In my country people say “Sleep well and sweet dreams".'

‘Wait,' she said, without taking his hand, ‘perhaps you might play after all.' And she disappeared through a little side door, beside which the piano stood.

‘What next?' thought Karl. ‘I can’t wait long, even if she is nice to me.’ There was a knock at the corridor door and the servant, without daring quite to open it, whispered through a little chink: ‘Excuse me; I’ve just been called away and can’t wait any longer.'

‘Then you can go,' said Karl, who now felt confident that he could find his way alone to the dining-room. ‘But leave the lantern for me at the door. How late is it?'

‘Almost a quarter to twelve,’ said the servant.

‘How slowly the time passes,’ said Karl to himself. The servant was shutting the door when Karl remembered that he had not given him a tip, took a shilling from his trouser pocket - in the American fashion he now always carried his loose coins jingling in his trouser pocket, his bank-notes, on the other hand, in his waistcoat pocket - and handed it to the servant with the words : ‘For your kindness.’

Clara had already come back, patting her trim hair with her fingers, when it occurred to Karl that he should not have let the servant go after all, for who would now show him the way to the railway station? Well, Mr Pollunder would sure]y manage to hunt up a servant somewhere, and perhaps the old servant had been summoned to the dining-room and so would be again at his disposal.

‘Won’t you really play a little for me? One hears music

so seldom here that it's a pity to miss any opportunity of hearing it/

It s high time I began then,' said Karl without further consideration, sitting down at once at the piano.

'Do you want any special music?' asked Clara.

'No, thanks, I can’t even read music correctly/ replied Karl, and he began to play. It was a little air which, as he knew perfectly well, had to be played somewhat slowly to make it even comprehensible, especially to strangers; but he strummed it out in blatant march time. When he ended it the shattered silence of the house closed round them again, almost distressfully. They sat there as if frozen with embarrassment and did not move.

'Quite good,' said Clara, but there was no formula of politeness which could have flattered Karl after that performance.

'How late is it?’ he asked.

'A quarter to twelve,' 'Then I still have a little time,' he said and thought to himself: 'Which is it to be? I needn’t play through all the ten tunes I know, but I might play one at least as well as I can,' And he began to play his beloved soldier’s song. So slowly that the roused longing of his listener yearned for the next note, which Karl held back and yielded reluctantly. He had actually to pick out the keys first with his eyes as in playing all of his tunes, but he also felt rising within him a song which reached past the end of this song, seeking another end which it could not find. ‘I’m no good,' said Karl after he had finished, gazing at Clara with tears in his eyes.

Then from the next room came a sound of handclapping. 'Someone has been listening!’ cried Karl, taken aback. 'Mack,' said Clara softly. And already he heard Mack shouting : 'Karl Rossmann, Karl Rossmann ! ’

Karl swung both feet over the piano stool and opened the door. He saw Mack half sitting and half reclining in a huge double bed with the blankets loosely flung over his legs. A canopy of blue silk was the sole and somewhat school-girlish

ornament of the bed, which was otherwise quite plain and roughly fashioned out of heavy wood. On the bedside table only a candle was burning, but the sheets and Mack's nightshirt were so white that the candle-light falling upon them was thrown off in an almost dazzling reflection; even the canopy shone, at least at the edges, with its slightly billowing silk tent which was not stretched quite taut. But immediately behind Mack the bed and everything else sank into complete darkness. Clara leaned against the bed-post and had eyes now only for Mack.

'Hallo,' said Mack, reaching his hand to Karl. 'You play very well; up to now I've only known your talent for riding/

I'm as bad at the one as at the other,' said Karl. ‘If I’d known you were listening, I certainly wouldn't have played. But your young lady - He stopped, he hesitated to say 'fiancee', since Mack and Clara obviously shared the same bed already.

'But I guessed it,' said Mack, 'and so Clara had to lure you out here from New York, or eke I would never have heard your playing. It’s certainly amateurish enough, and even in these two airs, which have been set very simply and which you have practised a good deal, you made one or two mistakes; but all the same it pleased me greatly, quite apart from the fact that I never despise players of any kind. But won’t you sit down and stay for a little while with us ? Clara, give him a chair,' 'Thanks,' said Karl awkwardly. 'I can't stay, glad as I would be to stay here. It's taken me too lpng to discover that there are such comfortable rooms in this house/

‘I'm having everything reconstructed in this style,' said Mack.

At that moment twelve strokes of a bell rang out in rapid succession, each breaking into the one before. Karl could feel on his cheeks the wind made by the swinging of that great bell. What sort of village could it be which had such bells !

It’s high time I was gone,’ said Karl, stretching out his hand to Mack and Clara without shaking theirs and rushing off into the corridor.

He found no lantern there and regretted having tipped the servant so soon.

He began to feel his way along the wall to his own room, but had hardly covered half the way when he saw Mr Green hurriedly bobbing towards him with an upraised candle. In the hand holding the candle he was also clutching a letter.

‘Rossmann, why didn’t you come? Why have you kept me waiting? What on earth has kept you so long with Miss Clara?’

‘How many questions!’ thought Karl, ‘and now he’s pushing me to the wall/ for indeed Green was standing quite close to Karl, who had to lean his back against the wall. In this corridor Green took on an almost absurd size, and Karl wondered in jest if he could have eaten up good Mr Pollunder.

‘You certainly aren’t a man of your word. You promised to come down at twelve and instead of that here you are prowling round Miss Clara’s door. But I promised you some interesting news at midnight, and here it is.’ And with that he handed Karl the letter. On the envelope was written : To Karl Rossmann, to be delivered personally at midnight, wherever he may be found.’

‘After all,’ said Mr Green, while Karl opened the letter, ‘I think I am due some thanks for driving out here from New York on your account, so that you shouldn’t expect me to chase after you through these corridors as well.’

‘From my uncle,’ said Karl, almost as soon as he glanced at the letter. ‘I have been expecting it,’ he said, turning to Mr Green.

‘Whether you were expecting it or not doesn’t matter to me in the least. You just read it,’ said Green, holding up the candle to Karl.

Karl read by its light :

DearNephew,

As you will already have realized during our much too brief companionship, I am essentially a man of principle. That is unpleasant and depressing not only to those who come in contact with me, but also to myself as well. Yet it is my principles that have made me what I am, and no one can ask me to deny my fundamental -self. Not even you, my dear nephew. Though you would be my first choice, if it ever occurred to me to permit such a general assault upon me. Then I would pick you up, of all people, with these two arms that are now holding this paper and set you above my head. But as for the moment nothing indicates that this could ever happen, I must, after the incident of today, expressly send you away from me, and I urgently beg you neither to visit me in person, nor to try to get in touch with me either by writing or through intermediaries. Against my wishes you decided this evening to leave me; stick, then, to that decision all your life. Only then will it be a manly decision. As the bringer of this news I have chosen Mr Green, my best friend, who no doubt will find indulgent words for you which at the moment are certainly not at my disposal. He is an influential man and, if only for my sake, will give you his advice and help in the first independent steps which you take. To explain our separation, which now as I end this letter once more seems incomprehensible to me, I have to keep telling myself again and again, Karl, that nothing good comes out of your family. If Mr Green should forget to hand you your box and umbrella, remind him of them.

With best wishes for your further welfare,

Your faithful

Uncle Jacob

'Are you finished?' asked Green.

'Yes,' said Karl. 'Have you brought the box and the umbrella with you ? ’ he asked.

‘Here it is,' said Green, setting Karl’s old travelling box, which until now he had held in his left hand concealed behind his back, beside Karl on the floor.

‘And the umbrella ? Karl asked again.

‘Everything here,' said Green, bringing out the umbrella

too, which had been hanging from one of his trouser pockets. A man called Schuhal, an engineer in the Hamburg- American Line, brought the things; he maintained that he found them on the ship. You can find an opportunity to thank him sometime/

‘Now I have my old things back again at least,' said Karl, laying the umbrella on the box.

But you should take better care of them in future, the Senator asked me to tell you,' said Mr Green, and then asked, obviously out of private curiosity : ‘What queer kind of box is that?'

‘It's the kind of box that soldiers in my country take with them when they join the army/ replied Karl. ‘It’s my father's old army chest. It’s very useful too,' he added with a smile, ‘provided you don't leave it behind you somewhere/

‘After all, you’ve been taught your lesson,' said Mr Green, ‘and I bet you haven’t a second uncle in America. Here is something else for you, a third-class ticket to San Francisco. I’ve decided on sending you there because in the first place your chances of earning a living are much better in the West, and in the second your uncle has got a finger in everything here that might suit you and a meeting between you must be strictly avoided. In ’Frisco you can tackle anything you like; just begin at the bottom and trying gradually to work your way up/

Karl could not detect any malice in these words; the bad news which had lain sheathed in Green the whole evening was delivered, and now he seemed a harmless man with whom one could speak more frankly perhaps, than with anybody else. The best of men, chosen through no fault of his own to be the bearer of such a secret and painful message, must appear a suspicious character so long as he had to keep it to himself. ‘I shall leave this house at once,' said Karl, hoping that his resolution would be approved by Green’s experience, ‘for I was invited as my uncle’s nephew, while as a stranger I have no business here. Would you be so good as

to show me the way out and tell me how I can get to the nearest inn?'

‘As quick as you like,' said Green, ‘you're not afraid of giving me trouble, are you ? '

On seeing the huge strides which Green was taking, Karl at once came to a stop, so much haste seemed highly suspicious, and he seized Green by the coat-tail, suddenly realizing the true situation, and said: ‘There's one thing more you must explain : on the envelope you gave me it was merely stated that I was to receive it at midnight, wherever I might be found. Why, then, on the strength of that letter, did you keep me here when I wanted to leave at a quarter-past eleven ? In doing that you exceeded your instructions/

Green accompanied his reply with a wave of the hand which indicated with melodramatic exaggeration the silliness of Karl’s question, saying: ‘Was it stated on the envelope that I should run myself to death chasing about after you, and did the contents of the letter give any hint that the inscription was to be construed in such a way? If I had not kept you here, I should have had to hand you the letter precisely at midnight on the open road.'

‘No,' said Karl, quite unmoved, ‘it isn't quite so. It says on the envelope : “To be delivered at midnight/' You might have been too tired, perhaps, to follow me at all, or I might have reached my uncle's by midnight, though I grant you, Mr Pollunder thought not, or as a last resort it might have been your duty to take me back to my uncle in your own car, which you so conveniently forgot to mention, since I was insisting on going back. Does not the inscription quite plainly convey that midnight was to be the final term for me? And it is you who are to blame that I missed it/

Kar] looked at Green with shrewd eyes and clearly saw that shame over this exposure was conflicting in the man with joy at the success of his designs. At last he pulled himself together and said sharply, as if breaking into Karl's accusations, although Karl had been silent for a long time:

‘Not a word more P And pushed Karl, who had once more picked up his box and his umbrella, out through a little door which he flung open before him.

To his astonishment Karl found himself in the open air. An outside stair without railings led downwards before him. He had simply to descend it and then turn to the right to reach the avenue which led to the road. In the bright moonlight he could not miss his way. Below him in the garden he could hear the manifold barking of dogs who had been let loose and were rushing about in the shadow of the trees. In the stillness he could distinctly hear them thudding on the grass as they landed after making their great bounds.

Without being molested by the dogs Karl safely got out of the garden. He could not tell with certainty in which direction New York lay. In coming here he had paid too little attention to details which might have been useful to him now. Finally he told himself that he need not of necessity go to New York, where nobody expected him and one man certainly did not expect him. So he chose a chance direction and set out on his way.