but a gift. Sometimes we are mysteriously empowered to
enter the presence of the god: sometimes we cannot, but
remain fluttering up and down an impenetrable sheet of
glass while the sun shines on outside. Thou wilt never come
for pity, thou wilt come for pleasure. Since the concert began
I had been growing towards the music. Kathe, from the outset,
had entered straight into that better world as naturally
as a hare into the fern.
Orsino might not have been able to keep his mind on the
music - he lacked, of course, the advantage of congenial cornpany
- but I could all right. My capacity exceeded as the sea.
My attention never wandered. I felt I was hearing everything
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that Mozart wished me to hear - sometimes three or four
things at once. The music and I seemed perfectly and
accurately superimposed, and with this went the spontaneous
emotional response of a child. There was a star
danced and under that was I born.
When the larghetto had closed in radiant simplicity and
the orchestra began the poignant, minor variations of the last
movement, I became aware of some change - some physical
change - beside me. I glanced sidelong at Kathe. Without
sound or movement, she was weeping. I laid a hand on her
arm and she, blinking quickly, looked round at me with a
little, self-deprecatory smile, then leaned over and whispered,
'He is saying it has to end. Es muss sein.'
After Mr Fou T'song had been duly clapped and cheered
and had walked on and off the platform an appropriate
number of times and shaken hands with Mr Haitink, the first
violin and anybody else who happened to come in his sights,
I asked Kathe whether she would care for a stroll and a
drink. She shook her head, seemed about to speak and then
leaned back, gently rubbing her shoulders from side to side
against the back of her seat. At length she said, 'Do we
need to go anywhere from here?'
We talked of music in England and I told her about
Glyndebourne and about the Festival Hall.
'And you really can't hear the trains at all, only fifty metres
outside?'
'No. But inside you can hear every least sound. The proportions
are beautiful, and the black-and-white boxes at the
sides look rather like switch-back cars at a fair. They project,
you know, one above another, rather like an opened chest-ofdrawers.'
'Oh, I see. So very grand people can sit in the top ones,
and people who are going to get married can sit in the bottorn
ones?'
I burst out laughing, as much from astonishment as amusement.
'Kathe, however can you make idiomatic jokes so quickly,
in a language that isn't yours?'
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Oh - well, we say, you know,
"Wenn scheint die helle Sonne,
Dann ist das Leben Wonne."
Can you translate that?'
I translated,
'When the bright sun is shining,
Then life -' er - I suppose - 'is delight. Is pure delight.'
'Well, there you are. It's my delight to make silly jokes
when you're shining. But isn't there another famous concerthall
in England?' she went on quickly, before I could reply.
'I read about it, I think, in some magazine - made by a
great English composer, where he lives? Only I forget the
names."
'Benjamin Britten. Snape. That's almost the best one of
the lot. When the Aldeburgh festival's on, the entire district's
given over to music - the town, the local village churches everywhere.
Famous artists come from all over the world.
It's like heaven on earth. If you were ever to come over -' I
stopped, suddenly embarrassed.
'Yes?' Laughing, she gave her bag a little toss from her
lap and caught it again. 'Yes, Alan?'
'Er - well - I was going to say, "If you were ever to come
over I'd take you there." I mean, you know, I sometimes go
in a party with friends.'
'That would be nice,' she replied gravely. 'I'd love to come.'
After the interval, Mr Haitink proceeded to give a musicianly
account of Mendelssohn's Italian Symphony. The
people on our left had gone, presumably being interested
only in Fou T'song, and Kathe, taking advantage of this,
moved her coat into the adjacent seat, added her bag to it
and thus having, as it were, stripped for action, seemed to
become - if that were possible - a yet more involved participant
in her delighted response to the music. A very pretty
rendering it was. The thrush shouted his head off in the first
movement (so my father used to say) and the pilgrims
tramped along in fine style in the second, but I could have
100
wished for something more demanding. I was all set to soar
once more into the blue empyrean, but Mendelssohn was not
going that far. He was decorating the salon, albeit in a style
fit for a prince. Still, there's no bad music, and I wasn't cornplaining.
Unexpectedly, I was greatly taken with the Janacek
suite with which the concert ended. I had never heard it before,
and the brilliant tone of the brass, in particular, seemed
full of warmth and wit that to me, in my present mood, had
Mendelssohn beat all the way. At the end I joined enthusiastically
in the applause and cheering, half-hoping for some
encore; but no such luck.
Kathe, having stood up to let half a dozen people go past
her into the aisle, sat down again and made no attempt to
leave until the hall was nearly empty. At length she said,
'And now - oh, dear! - we have to come back.'
I answered, 'But at least with full pockets. Kathe, what a
wonderful idea of yours! I've enjoyed it more than I can
possibly tell you. Which did you like best?'
'Oh, Alan, how can you ask?'
'I shouldn't have asked. I agree with you. What now?
Coffee? Food?'
'Yes. Yes, for a little while. Oh, isn't it silly? Just imagine
- we need food!'
'And talk. You've had too little chance to talk so far.'
'Am I such a chatterbox?'
'A box where sweets compacted lie. Anyway, what I
really meant is that so far I've had too little chance to listen
while you talk.'
'Well, then, I'll sing for your supper.'
And throughout our modest supper (for I was really getting
rather worried about money) at the nearest small restaurant,
she talked, in her beautiful, smooth voice, of nothing - of
K0benhavn, of her friends, of a holiday she had had last
summer in Holland, of cooking, knitting and growing flowers.
It was like bird-song. Since she was human there had to be
words, but they did not really matter. I, listening, felt I could
never have enough of it. I had asked her to talk and she was
talking. There was no need to speak of the music, and she
had the wit not to do so.
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Suddenly she said, 'So - you saw me in Kongens Have
yesterday evening?'
'Yes. Unter der Linde.'
'Then you must have seen Inge;
and the little girl too, I
suppose?'
'Well, I may have. I saw another grown-up girl with you,
and I suppose that must have been Inge, but as I've never
met Inge I can't say. I don't remember noticing any
particular little girl, but of course there were quite a few
about.'
'Oh. Well, I had gone to Kongens Have with them.'
'How old is Inge's little girl?'
'Three - nearly four.'
'I'd better get this straight, hadn't I? Inge's a friend of
yours, presumably?'
'She has the flat downstairs.'
'And she's married?'
'No.'
'Oh, I see.' I smiled. 'She - er -just has a little girl?'
'Yes.' She turned and called 'Tjener!'
The waiter came and she asked him for more coffee. When
she had put in the cream and sugar herself, stirred it and
tasted it, she said, 'But there's someone who wants to marry
her and she thinks she will have him.'
'Oh, well, that's nice for her. You mean, not the little girl's
father?'
'No. Someone else.'
'He doesn't mind taking the little girl as well?'
'Should he?'
'Well, no, of course not, but it's just that I don't think I'd
like it particularly; in fact, I think I'd find it distinctly offputting.
But I mean - you know - circumstances alter cases
and all that, and I don't know Inge or the bloke, or even the
little girl, if it comes to that. I hope they'll all be very happy.
Let me know when you go to the wedding. I mean, if you
write to me. I wanted to ask, Kathe, may I write to you, and
if I do, will you reply?'
'Vielleicht.' She paused; then, 'Oh, it's been such a beautiful
evening. What a pity it has to end! Coming back - always
102
coming back. Well, I don't know about going to the wedding,
but now I must go home.'
'Why? It's not all that late. Do stay! I'll see you home,
don't worry.'
'No, I must go now. But you can walk me to the Always
'bus.'
As I helped her on with her coat, she caught my eye in a
glass on the wall.
'Alan, you're frowning! You look so serious. What is it?'
'Sorry! Well, to tell you the truth, I was thinking about
the Mozart concerto. That's rather a difficult first movement
in some ways, don't you think?'
'Is it? Warum?'
'Well, I mean, it's not a regular sonata form, which makes
it a shade hard to follow. But of course that might be one
reason why I enjoyed it so much.'
She turned round, her face lifted to mine - I can see it
now - her lips apart. For an instant I thought she was going
to kiss me. She seemed to be searching for words and I, a
little startled, allowed her eyes to hold mine, unmoving as
the proprietor brushed past us to hold the door open.
'Can you follow a rose, Alan?'
'Sorry?'
'The sun shines and it blooms - and then after a time the
petals fall. That's Seligkeit.'
At the door she stopped to thank the proprietor and
praise the restaurant. Outside she said again, 'Seligkeit. Oh,
I shouldn't tease you, Alan. I've no manners, have I? You're
so kind -'
'Not me. You were looking in the glass. That was yourself
you saw -'
'Well, one day you shall teach me how to listen to music
properly, the way you do. I've got no brains -'
'Oh, yes, you have, but you don't need them. Wings are
the thing.'
'- Or else I wouldn't be an office girl at Hansen's -'
'That's got nothing to do with it -'
'Well, if I really had wings I'd fly a long way from here.
Far away.'
103
'Do you know, during the concert tonight, while we were
listening to the Mozart, you made me think of something a
little like that, but not a bit sad, the way you're putting it.
The music was like a sort of garden to you, wasn't it - your
own garden? I know your English is just about perfect, but
I bet you haven't heard this.'
'What is it? Tell me.'
I said, ' "Here at the fountain's sliding foot,
Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root,
Casting the body's vest aside
My soul into the boughs does glide:
There like a bird it sits, and sings,
Then whets, and combs its silver wings;
And, till prepared for longer flight,
Waves in its plumes the various light." '
Kathe gave a little cry of pleasure. 'Oh, how lovely! But
why does she wet her wings? And what with?'
I explained.
'Ja, I see. I've watched them do that. You're an expert at
listening to music, Alan, aren't you? It must be a wonderful
tonata-form -'
'Sonata form -'
'- if it puts things like that into your head. How long ago
was that written?'
'Well - about three hundred years, I suppose. Bit more,
perhaps.'
'So long. And yet I know exactly how he felt. Oh -1 nearly
forgot -1 want to keep the programme. Will you write something
on it for me?'
I thought for a moment and then wrote, 'Kathe. Thou wast
not born for death, immortal bird. Alan' and the date. Holding
it to the light of a shop-window, she read it aloud.
'Well, if I really were a bird I would fly; but to prove I'm
not, here's the 'bus coming.' She looked quickly in her bag
and then asked, 'Alan, can you give me a polet to pay with?
I don't seem to have one.'
104
IO
BACK in the hotel room I kicked off my shoes, lay on the
bed in my shirt-sleeves and forced myself to look at it
squarely. It was no longer possible to deceive myself. If I
were not in love, then no one had been in love since the
world began. It reminded me of how, in folk tales, the hero,
having taken every possible step to avoid fulfilling the prophecy,
suddenly realizes that he has fulfilled it. Pride; leading
inevitably to humiliation - that was about the size of it;
and the humiliation was bitter. I saw now that hitherto I had
always been protected against falling in love by an outer
shell of pride. In effect, I had been too proud to share the
common lot of mankind. I had preferred to opt out for fear of
making a fool of myself, or of losing. Well, I was going to
lose now all right. Before I met Kathe I could have taken my
oath that no frivolous, flirtatious girl, whose idea of listening
to music was an emotional trip, and who preferred chattering
in the sunshine on the Cannon Tower to looking at
some of the finest wood-carving in Europe, could have any
appeal for me. Now, more than anything in the world - more
even than all its pottery and porcelain - I wanted her cornpany.
Yet, obviously, this was precisely what I was not going
to be able to go on having. Time, work, money. I was simply
playing the fool to no purpose. It had amused Kathe, for the
past few days, to indulge my importunacy. Perhaps just in
order to make someone else jealous? Besides, dinners, outings
and concerts were pleasant in themselves. The longer it
went on the more I was bound to suffer, for what was I
but a limping Hephaistos, dealing not in metals and armour,
but in no less sterile artifacts; tormenting himself with the
company of a golden Aphrodite excelling in tricks worth two
of his; who, for her amusement and the pleasure of his flattery,
had tossed him a few perfumed flowers and treated him
to an inkling of that blinding delight that was hers to bestow
elsewhere? Come on, Alberich - you might as well come
out of the Rhine now; there isn't even any gold to steal.
105
Tomorrow evening, after she left work, I would see her for
no more than an hour, merely as a matter of courtesy and
this time really to say good-bye. I would be controlled and
cheerful. Then I would dine alone, go to bed and leave K0benhavn
the next morning. Ich grolle nicht, und wenn das Herz
auch bricht.
'Never mind about a drink, Alan. Let's go and walk in 0rsteds
Parken for a little while. We can be more alone, so.'
We walked up Hammerichs Gade against the home-bound
crowd making for the station, crossed Jarmers Plads and
strolled up the east side of the little park as far as the statue
of 0rsted with his electro-magnetic wires and batteries. Close
by, a little lawn slopes steeply towards the lake below, and
Kathe, taking my arm, turned and led me down across the
grass. On our right a bed of tawny wallflowers, edged with
forget-me-not, was already in bloom, and I remember how
the scent reached us, coming and going on the warm evening
air. Kathe, spreading her coat, sat down under a flowering
cydonia, broke off a twig of the pink, waxy blooms and,
pensive and silent, stroked her chin with the tip.
I said, 'A bloom for a burin?'
'What is that? A burin? I never heard.'
'It's a sort of tool for engraving copper. But of course you'd
need a softer one to engrave your chin, wouldn't you?'
'Can you see what it is I'm engraving?'
She traced the word 'Alan' lightly and invisibly across her
cheek, then tossed the little spray down on the grass.
'I'm sorry you have to go back, Alan. It was such a short
time, wasn't it? Less than a week - it's seemed longer. But
I do understand - you have your work to do and your mother
and your home to look after.'
'It's seemed longer to me, too. To tell you the truth, it's
been something quite out of my experience. You're very different
from the porcelain ladies on shelves that I usually have
to do with.'
She looked up, smiling. 'You buy and sell them, don't you?'
106
"Yes, except the ones I can't bear to part with.'
'And those you add to your collection?'
I thought of the glass-fronted cupboards full of Longton
Hall and Chelsea, the Neale Four Seasons, the white Bow
figures of Liberty and Matrimony. To possess them I had
given more than I could afford. Now, in my mind's eye, they
seemed artificial and lifeless, their grace as much contrived
as that of musical boxes, each playing a single air over and
over.
'Well, I can understand them, you see.' It was an admission,
not a claim.
'You mean you don't understand me?'
'Well, they're like flowers - they keep still to be admired.
You're more like a bird -'
She laughed. 'What bird?'
I considered. 'D'you know the Eisvogel? She flashes down
the river in a streak of blue, and you just have time to think
"How wonderful!" before she's gone.'
'But you're the one who's going.' She stood up; and as I
got to my feet beside her went on, with downcast eyes, 'Well,
I shall miss you, Alan. I hope you'll come back some day.'
'Oh, but there must be lots of people -' I stopped, simply
because I couldn't bear to go on. Putting on an act to part
from her was one thing. The thought of those other, unknown
men, able, as I was not, to tread her measure, was
another.
'Let's walk down to the lake,' she said.
But just by the Sliberen bronze on the edge of the lawn
she stopped, frowning, as though trying to remember something
that would not quite return to mind.
'What is it, Kathe? Not something at the office, I hope?'
'Nein, nein.' She sat down again, and I too. 'You're not
the only one who knows beautiful poetry. Only I can't remember
it as well as you.'
'Never mind. Have a go.'
'It's Heine. I had to learn it once at school, to sing.
"Wie des Mondes Abbild zittert
In den wilden Meereswogen,
107
Und er selber still und sicher
Wandelt an dem Himmelsbogen:
"Also wandelst du, Geliebte,
Still und sicher, und es zittert
The Girl in a Swing Page 12
