The Bridge on the Drina - PDFDrive.com

by Ivo Andrić

  'Don'tyouknow,fellow,themeaningofasprigoftansythrownbyagirl?'said

  oneofthem.'ItmeansthatPašaistellingyou:Iampiningawayforyoulikethis

  pluckedflower;butyouneitheraskformyhandnorallowmetogotoanother.

  Thatiswhatitmeans.'

  TheyallbegantotalktohimaboutPaša,solovely,sochaste,aloneintheworld,

  waitingforthehandthatshouldpluckher,andthatthehandforwhichshewas

  waitingwasCorkan'sandhisalone.

  Theypretendedtogetangryandshoutedloudly;howdidshecometocasther

  eye on Ćorkan? Others defended him. As Ćorkan went on drinking he came

  almosttobelieveinthismarvel,onlytorejectitatonceasanimpossibility.In

  conversationheinsistedthatshewasnotthegirlforhim,anddefendedhimself

  againsttheirjeersbysayingthathewasapoorman,thathewasgrowingoldand

  not very attractive, but in his moments of silence he let his thoughts dwell on

  Paša, her beauty and the joy that she would bring, heedless whether such joy

  were possible for him or not. In that wonderful summer night which with the

  plum brandy and the songs and the fire burning on the grass seemed endless,

  everything was possible or at least not completely impossible. That the guests

  were mocking and ridiculing him he knew; gentlemen could not live without

  laughter,someonehadtobetheirbuffoon,italwayshadbeenandalwayswould

  be. But if all this were only a joke, his dream of a marvellous woman and an

  unattainablelove,ofwhichhehadalwaysdreamedandstilldreamedtoday,was

  nojoke.Therewasnojokeinthosesongsinwhichlovewasbothrealandunreal

  andwomanbothnearandunattainableasinhisdream.Fortheguestsallthattoo

  wasajoke,butforhimitwasatrueandsacredthingwhichhehadalwaysborne

  within himself and which had become real and indubitable, independent of the

  guests'pleasure,ofwineandofsong,ofeverything,evenofPašaherself.

  Allthisheknewwellandyeteasilyforgot.Forhissoulwouldmeltandhismind

  flowlikewater.

  So Ćorkan, three years after his great love and the scandal about the pretty

  Germantight-ropewalker,fellintoanewandenchantedloveandalltherichand

  idleguestsfoundafreshgame,cruelandexcitingenoughtogivethemcausefor

  laughterformonthsandyearstocome.

  That was in midsummer. But autumn and winter passed and the game about

  Corkan's love for the beautiful Paša filled the evenings and shortened the days

  forthemerchantsfromthemarketplace.TheyalwaysreferredtoCorkanasthe

  bridegroom or the lover. By day, overcome by the night's drinking and lack of

  sleep, when Ćorkan did odd jobs in the shops, fetching and carrying, he was

  surprised and angered that they should call him so, but only shrugged his

  shoulders. But as soon as night came and the lamps were lit in Zarije's inn,

  someonewouldshout'RumforCorkan!'andanothersingsoftlyasifbychance:

  'Eveningcomesandthesungoesdown:Onthyfaceitshinesnolonger....'

  then suddenly everything changed. No more burdens, no more shrugging of

  shoulders, no more town or inn or even Ćorkan himself as he was in reality,

  snuffling, unshaven, clothed in rags and cast-off clothing of other men. There

  existedahighbalconylitbythesettingsunandwreathedinvines,withayoung

  girlwholookedforhimandwaitedforthemantowhomshehadthrownasprig

  oftansy.Therewasstill,tobetrue,thecoarselaughteraroundhimandthecrude

  jests, but they were all far away, as in a fog, and he who sang was near him,

  closebyhisear:

  'IfIcouldgrowwarmagain

  Inthesunlightthatyoubringme....'

  andhewarmedhimselfinthatsun,whichhadset,ashehadneverbeenwarmed

  bytherealsunwhichroseandsetdailyoverthetown.

  'RumforCorkan!'

  So the winter nights passed. Towards the end of that winter Paša got married.

  The poor seamstress from Dušče, in all her beauty of not quite nineteen years,

  marriedHadjiOmerwholivedbehindthefortress,arichandrespectedmanof

  fifty-five—ashissecondwife.

  Hadji Omer had already been married more than thirty years. His wife came

  from a famous family and was renowned for her cleverness and good sense.

  Their property behind the fortress was a whole settlement in itself, progressive

  andrichineverything.Hisshopsinthetownweresolidlybuiltandhisincome

  assured and large. All this was not so much due to the peaceable and indolent

  HadjiOmer,whodidlittlemorethanwalktwiceadaytothetownandback,as

  tohisableandenergetic,alwayssmilingwife.Heropinionwasthelastwordon

  manyquestionsforalltheTurkishwomenofthetown.

  Hisfamilywasineverywayamongthebestandmostrespectedinthetown,but

  thealreadyageingcouplehadnochildren.Forlongtheyhadhoped.HadjiOmer

  had even made the pilgrimage to. Mecca and his wife had made bequests to religious houses and given alms to the poor. The years had passed, everything

  had increased and prospered, but in this one most important matter they had

  receivednoblessing.HadjiOmerandhisgoodwifehadbornetheirevilfortune

  wiselyandwellbuttherecouldbenolongeranyhopeofchildren.Hiswifewas

  inherforty-fifthyear.

  The great inheritance which Hadji Omer was to leave behind him was in

  question. Not only his and his wife's numerous relations had concerned

  themselves in this matter, but to some extent the whole town also. Some had

  wantedthemarriagetoremainchildlesstotheend,whileothershadthoughtita

  pity that such a man should die without heirs and that his goods should be

  dispersed among the many relations, and had therefore urged him to take a

  second, younger wife while there was still a chance of heirs. The local Turks

  weredividedintotwocampsonthequestion.Butthematterwassettledbythe

  barren wife herself. Openly, resolutely and sincerely, as in everything she did,

  shetoldherundecidedhusband:

  'The good God has given us everything, all thanks and praise to Him, concorn

  andhealthandriches,butHehasnotgivenuswhathegivestoeverypoorman;

  to see our children and to know to whom to leave what shall remain after us.

  Thathasbeenmybadfortune.ButevenifI,bythewillofGod,mustbearthis,

  there is no reason why you should do so. I see that the whole marketplace is

  concerning itself with our troubles and urging you to marry again. Well, since

  theyaretryingtomarryyouoff,thenitisIwhowanttoarrangeyourmarriage

  foryou,fornooneisagreaterfriendtoyouthanI.'

  Shethentoldhimherplan;astherewasnolongeranylikelihoodthattheytwo

  couldeverhavechildren,thenhemustbringtotheirh
ome,besideher,asecond

  wife,ayoungerone,bywhomhemightstillbeabletohavechildren.Thelaw

  gave him that right. She, naturally, would go on living in the house as 'the

  old hadjinica' andseethateverythingwasdoneproperly.

  HadjiOmerlongresistedandsworethatheaskednobettercompanionthanshe,

  that he did not need a second wife, but she stuck to her opinion and even

  informedhimwhichgirlshehadchosen.Sincehemustmarryinordertohave

  children,thenitwerebestthathetakeayoung,healthyandprettygirlofpoor

  family who would give him healthy heirs and, while she was alive, would be

  grateful for her good fortune. Her choice fell on pretty Paša, daughter of the

  seamstressfromDušče.

  So it was done. At the wish of his older wife and with her assistance, Hadji Omer married the lovely Paša and eleven months later Paša gave birth to a

  healthyboy.SothequestionofHadjiOmer'sinheritancewassettled,thehopes

  ofmanyrelationswereextinguishedandthemouthsofthemarketplacesealed.

  Paša was happy and 'the old hadjinica' satisfied, and the two lived in Hadji Omer'shouseinconcordlikemotheranddaughter.

  ThatfortunateconclusionofthequestionofHadjiOmer'sheirwasthebeginning

  of Corkan's great sufferings. That winter the principal amusement of the idle

  guests in Zarije's inn was Ćorkan's sorrow at Paša's marriage. The unfortunate

  loverwasdrunkashehadneverbeenbefore;theguestslaughedtilltheycried.

  Theyalltoastedhimandeachoneofthemgotgoodvalueforhismoney.They

  mocked him with imaginary messages from Paša, assuring him that she wept

  nightandday,thatshewaspiningforhim,nottellinganyonetherealreasonfor

  hersorrow.Ćorkanwasinafrenzy,sang,wept,answeredallquestionsseriously

  and in detail and bewailed the fate which had created him so unprepossessing

  andpoor.

  'Verywell,Ćorkan,buthowmanyyearsyoungerareyouthanHadjiOmer?'one

  oftheguestswouldbegintheconversation.

  'How do I know? And what good would it do me even if I were younger?'

  Ćorkanansweredbitterly.

  'Eh,ifIweretojudgebyheartandyouth,thenHadjiOmerwouldnothavewhat

  hehas,norwouldourĆorkanbesittingwhereheis,'brokeinanotherguest.

  ItdidnotneedmuchtomakeĆorkantenderandsentimental.Theypouredhim

  rumafterrumandassuredhimthatnotonlywasheyoungerandhandsomerand

  moresuitableforPašabutthat,afterall,hewasnotsopoorashethoughtoras

  heseemed.Inthelongnightstheseidlemenovertheirplumbrandythoughtupa

  wholehistory;howĆorkan'sfather,anunknownTurkishofficer,whomnoone

  hadeverseen,hadleftagreatpropertysomewhereinAnatoliatohisillegitimate

  son in Višegrad as sole heir, but that some relations down there had stayed the

  executionofthewill;thatnowitwouldonlybenecessaryforĆorkantoappear

  intherichanddistantcityofBrusatocountertheintriguesandliesofthesefalse

  heirsandrecoverwhatrightlybelongedtohim.Thenhewouldbeabletobuyup

  HadjiOmerandallhiswealth.

  Ćorkanlistened,wentondrinkingandonlysighed.Allthatpainedhimbutatthe

  sametimedidnotstophimfromsometimesthinkingofhimselfso,andbehaving

  as a man who has been cheated and robbed both in this town and over there somewhereinadistantandbeautifulland,thehomelandofhissupposedfather.

  Those around him pretended to make preparations for his journey to Brusa.

  Their jokes were long, cruel and worked out to the smallest detail. One night

  they brought him a supposedly complete passport, and with coarse jokes and

  roarsoflaughterpulledĆorkanintothecentreoftheinnandturnedhimround

  andexaminedhim,inordertoinscribehispersonalcharacteristicsonit.Another

  timetheycalculatedhowmuchmoneyhewouldneedforhistriptoBrusa,how

  he would travel and where he would spend his nights. That too passed a good

  partofthelongnight.

  When he was sober Ćorkan protested; he both believed and disbelieved all he

  was told, but he disbelieved more than he believed. When he was sober he

  believed,infact,nothingatallbutassoonashewasdrunkhebehavedasthough

  hebelieveditall.Forwhenalcoholgotagriponhimhenolongeraskedhimself

  whatwastrueandwhatwasalie.Thetruthwasthat,afterthesecondlittlebottle

  ofrum,healreadyseemedtofeelthescentedairfromdistantandunattainable

  Brusaandsaw,alovelysight,itsgreengardensandwhitehouses.Hehadbeen

  deceived,unfortunateineverythingfrombirth,inhisfamily,hispropertyandhis

  love; wrong had been done to him, so great a wrong that God and men were

  alikehisdebtors.Itwasclearthathewasnotwhatheappearedtobeorasmen

  sawhim.Theneedtotellallthosearoundhimtormentedhimmorewithevery

  glass, though he himself felt how hard it was to prove a truth that was to him

  clearandevident,butagainstwhichcriedoutallthatwasinhimandabouthim.

  After the first glass of rum, he explained this to everyone, all night long, in

  brokensentencesandwithgrotesquegesturesanddrunkard'stears.Themorehe

  explainedthemorethosearoundhimjokedandlaughed.Theylaughedsolong

  and heartily that their ribs and their jaws ached from that laughter, contagious,

  irresistible and sweeter than any food or drink. They laughed and forgot the

  boredomofthewinternight,andlikeĆorkandrankthemselvessilly.

  'Kill yourself!' shouted Mehaga Sarač who by his cold and apparently serious

  mannerbestknewhowtoprovokeandexciteĆorkan.'Sinceyouhavenotbeen

  manenoughtoseizePašafromthatweaklingofaHadjiOmer,thenyououghtn't

  toliveanylonger.Killyourself,Ćorkan;thatismyadvice.'

  'Kill yourself, kill yourself!' wailed Ćorkan. 'Do you think I haven't thought of

  that? A hundred times I have gone to throw myself into the Drina from

  the kapia and a hundred times something held me back.' 'What held you back?

  Fear held you back, full breeches, Ćorkan!' 'No, no. It was not fear, may God

  hearme,notfear!'InthegeneraluproarandlaughterĆorkanleaptup,beathis breastandtoreapieceofbreadfromtheloafbeforehimandthrustitunderthe

  coldandimmobilefaceofMehaga.

  'Doyouseethis?Bymybreadandmyblessing,itwasnotfear,but...'

  Suddenlysomeonebegantohuminalowvoice:

  'Onthyfaceitshinesnolonger....'

  EveryonepickedupthesonganddrownedMehaga'svoiceshoutingatĆorkan.

  'Kill...kill...yourself...!'

  Thus singing they themselves fell into that state of exaltation into which they

  hadtriedtodriveĆorkan.Theeveningdevelopedintoamadorgy.

  One February night they had thus awaited dawn, driving themselves mad with

  theirvictimĆorkan,andthemselvesvictimsofhisfolly.Itwasalreadydaywhen


  theycameoutoftheinn.Heatedwithdrink,withveinsswollenandcrackling,

  theywenttothebridgewhichatthetimewascoatedwithafinelayerofice.

  With shouts and gusts of laughter, paying no heed to the few early passers-by,

  theybetamongthemselves;whodarestocrossthebridge,butalongthenarrow

  stoneparapetshiningunderthethincoatingofice.

  'Ćorkandares!'shoutedoneofthedrunkards.

  'Ćorkan?Notonyourlife!'

  'Whodaren't?I?Idaretodowhatnolivingmandares,'shoutedĆorkanbeating

  hisbreastnoisily.

  'Youhaven'ttheguts!Doitifyoudare!'

  'Idare,byGod!'

  'Ćorkandares!'

  'Liar!'

  Thesedrunkardsandboastersshoutedeachotherdown,eventhoughtheycould

  scarcelykeeptheirfeetonthebroadbridge,staggering,teeteringandholdingon

  tooneanotherforsupport.

  They did not even notice when Ćorkan climbed on to the stone parapet. Then,

  suddenly, they saw him floating above them and, drunk and dishevelled as he was,begintostanduprightandwalkalongtheflagstonesontheparapet.

  Thestoneparapetwasabouttwofeetwide.Ćorkanwalkedalongitswayingnow

  left now right. On the left was the bridge and on the bridge, there beneath his

  feet,thecrowdofdrunkenmenwhofollowedhiseverystepandshoutedwords

  at him which he scarcely understood and heard only as an incomprehensible

  murmur; and on the right a void, and in that void somewhere far below, the

  unseenriver;athickmistfloatedupwardsfromitandrose,likewhitesmoke,in

  thechillmorningair.

  The few passers-by halted, terrified, and with wide-open eyes watched the

  drunken man who was walking along the narrow and slippery parapet, poised

  above the void, waving his arms frantically to retain his balance. In that

  companyofdrunkardsafewofthemoresoberwhostillhadsomecommonsense

  watched the dangerous game. Others, not realizing the danger, walked along

  beside the parapet and accompanied with their cries the drunken man who

  balancedandswayedanddancedabovetheabyss.

  All at once, in his dangerous position, Ćorkan felt himself separated from his