by Joe Bandel
The people laughed over his joke–It was all a joke – all a coincidence; just like all of life is a joke and a coincidence.
But I know that the old Councilor for the Chamber of Commerce would have given many hundreds of thousands if he had never made that joke–I also know that he has never forgiven himself for naming his poor son Marco and not Hans or Peter.
In spite of all that it is still a coincidence–a very foolish, grotesque coincidence like this scribbling of the prince’s bride.”
The girl was standing up drunkenly, steadying herself with her hand on the chair.
“The prince’s bride–” she babbled. “Get me the prince in bed!”
She took the bottle of cognac, poured her glass completely full.
“I want the prince, do you hear me? I want all of him, the sugar sweet prince!”
“Unfortunately he is not here,” said Dr. Petersen.
“Not here?” She laughed. “Not here? Then it must be someone else! You–or you–or even you old man–It doesn’t matter as long as it’s a man!”
She ripped her blouse off, removed her skirt, loosened her bodice and threw it crashing against the mirror.
“I want a man–I’ll take all three of you! Bring someone in from the street if you want.”
Her shift slid down and she stood naked in front of the mirror lifting up her breasts with both hands.
“Who wants me?” she cried loudly. “Let’s play–all together! It doesn’t cost anything today–because it’s a celebration to help the children and the soldiers.”
She spread her arms out wide reaching into the air. “Soldiers–” she screamed. “I want an entire regiment.”
“Shame on you,” said Dr. Petersen. “Is that any way for a prince’s bride to act?”
But his gaze lingered greedily on her firm breasts.
She laughed. “It doesn’t matter–prince or no prince! Anyone that wants me can have me! My children are whore’s children whether they be from beggar or from a prince.”
“It doesn’t matter–prince or no prince! Anyone that wants me can have me!”
Her body became aroused and her breasts extended towards the men. Hot lust radiated from her white flesh, lascivious blood streamed through her blue veins–and her gaze, her quivering lips, her demanding arms, her inviting legs, her hips, and her breasts screamed out with wild desire, “Take me. Take me!”
She was not a prostitute any more–The last veils had been removed and she stood there free of all fetters, the pure female, the prototype, the ideal, from top to bottom.
“Oh, she is the one!” Frank Braun whispered. “Mother Earth–she is Mother Earth–”
A sudden trembling came over her as her skin shivered. Her feet dragged heavily as she staggered over to the sofa.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she murmured. “Everything is spinning!”
“You’re just a little tipsy,” said the attorney quickly. “Drink this and then sleep it off.”
He put another full glass of cognac up to her mouth.
“Yes, I would like to sleep,” she stammered. “Will you sleep with me, youngster?”
She threw herself down onto the sofa, stretched out both legs into the air, laughed out lightly, then sobbed loudly and wept until she was still. Then she turned onto her side and closed her eyes.
Frank Braun pushed a pillow under her head and covered her up. He ordered coffee, went to the window and opened it wide but shut it again a moment later as the early morning light broke in. He turned around.
“Now gentlemen, are you satisfied with this object?”
Dr. Petersen looked at the prostitute with an admiring eye.
“I believe she will do very well,” he opinioned. “Look at her hips, your Excellency, it’s like she is predestined for an impeccable birth.”
The waiter came and brought coffee. Frank Braun commanded him, “Telephone the nearest ambulance. We need a stretcher brought in here for the lady. She has become very sick.”
The Privy Councilor looked at him in astonishment, “What was that all about?”
“That is called–” laughed his nephew. “hitting the nail on the head. It’s called that I am thinking for you and that I am more intelligent than you are. Do you really think that when the girl is sober again she would go one step with you? Even as long as I kept her drunk with words and with wine I still needed to come up with something new to keep her interest. She would run away from both of you heroes at the nearest street corner in spite of all the money and all the princes in the world!
That is why I had to take control. Dr. Petersen, when the ambulance comes you will take the girl immediately to the train station. If I’m not wrong the early train leaves at six o’clock, be on it. You will take an entire cabin and put your patient into bed there. I don’t think she will wake up, but if she does give her some more cognac. You might add a couple drops of morphine as well. That way you should be comfortably in Bonn by evening with your booty–Telegraph ahead so the Privy Councillor’s carriage is waiting for you at the train station. Put the girl inside and take her to your clinic–Once she is there it will not be so easy for her to escape–You have your ways of keeping her there I’m sure.”
“Forgive me, doctor.” The assistant doctor turned to him, This almost appears like a forcible kidnapping.”
“Yes it does,” nodded the attorney. “Salve your citizen’s conscience with the knowledge that you have a contract!–Now don’t talk about it, do it!–Do what you are told.”
Dr. Petersen turned to his chief, who was quiet and brooding in the middle of the room and asked whether he could take first class, which room at the clinic he should put the girl in, whether they needed a special assistant and–
During all this Frank Braun stepped up to the sleeping prostitute.
“Beautiful girl,” he murmured. “Your locks creep like fiery golden adders.”
He pulled a narrow golden ring from his finger, one with a little pearl on it. Then he took her hand and placed it on her finger.
“Take this, Emmy Steenhop gave me this ring when I magically poisoned her flowers. She was beautiful, strong, and like you, was a remarkable prostitute!–Sleep child, dream of your prince and your prince’s child!”
He bent over and kissed her lightly on the forehead–The ambulance orderlies came with a stretcher. They took the sleeping prostitute and carefully place her on the stretcher, covered her with a warm woolen blanket and carried her out. Like a corpse, thought Frank Braun. Dr. Petersen excused himself and went after them.
Now the two of them were alone.
A few minutes went by and neither of them spoke. Then the Privy Councilor spoke to his nephew.
“Thank you,” he said dryly.
“Don’t mention it,” replied his nephew. “I only did it because I wanted to have a little fun and variety. I would be lying if I said I did it for you.”
The Privy Councilor continued standing there right in front of him, twiddling his thumbs.
“I thought as much. By the way, I will share something that you might find interesting. As you were chatting about the prince’s child, it occurred to me that when this child is born into the world I should adopt it.”
He laughed, “You see, your story was not that far from the truth and this little alraune creature already has the power to take things from you even before it is conceived. I will name it as my heir. I’m only telling you this now so you won’t have any illusions about inheriting.”
Frank Braun felt the cut. He looked his uncle straight in the eye.
“That’s just as well Uncle Jakob,” he said quietly. “You would have disinherited me sooner or later anyway, wouldn’t you?
The Privy Councilor held his gaze and didn’t answer. Then the attorney continued.
“Now perhaps it would be best if we use this time to settle things with each other–I have often angered you and disgusted you–For that, you have disinherited me. We are quit.
&nbs
p; But I gave you this idea and you have me to thank that it is now possible. For that you owe me a little gratitude. I have debts–”
The professor listened, a quick grin spread over his face.
“How much?” he asked.
Frank Braun answered, “–Now it depends–twenty thousand ought to cover it.”
He waited, but the Privy Councilor calmly let him wait.
“Well?” he asked impatiently.
Then the old man said, “Why do you say ‘well’? Do you seriously believe that I will pay your debts for you?”
Frank Braun stared at him. Hot blood shot through his temples, but he restrained himself.
“Uncle Jakob,” he said, and his voice shook. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to. One of my debts is urgent, very urgent. It is a gambling debt, on my honor.”
The professor shrugged his shoulders; “You shouldn’t have been gambling.”
“I know that,” answered his nephew, exerting all of his nerves to control himself. “Certainly, I shouldn’t have done it. But I did–and now I must pay. There is something else–I can’t go to mother with these things. You know as well as I do that she already does more for me than she should–She just a while ago put all my affairs in order for me–Now, because of that she’s sick–In short, I can’t go to her and I won’t.”
The Privy Councilor laughed bittersweet, “I am very sorry for your poor mother but it will not make me change my mind.”
“Uncle Jakob,” he cried into the cold sneering mask, beside himself with emotion. “Uncle Jakob, you don’t know what you are saying. I owe some fellow prisoners at the fortress a thousand and I must pay them back by the end of the week. I have a few other pathetic little debts to people that have loaned me money on my good face. I can’t cheat them. I also pumped money out of the commander so that I could travel here–”
“Him too!” the professor interrupted.
“Yes, him too!” he replied. “I lied to him, told him that you were on your death bed and that I had to be near you in your final hours. That’s why he gave me leave.”
The Privy Councilor wagged his head back and forth, “You told him that?–You are a veritable genie at borrowing and swindling–But now that must finally come to an end.”
“Blessed Virgin,” screamed the nephew. “Be reasonable uncle Jakob! I must have the money–I am lost if you don’t help me.”
Then the Privy Councilor said, “ The difference doesn’t seem to be that much to me. You are lost anyway. You will never be a decent person.”
Frank Braun grabbed his head with both hands. “You tell me this, uncle? You?”
“Certainly,” declared the professor. “What do you throw your money away on?–It’s always foolish things.”
“That might well be, uncle,” he threw back. “But I have never stuck money into foolish things the way you have!”
He screamed, and it seemed to him that he was swinging a riding whip right into the middle of the old man’s ugly face. He felt the sting of his words–but also felt how quickly they cut through without resistance–like through foam, like through sticky slime–
Quietly, almost friendly, the Privy Councilor replied. “I see that that you are still very stupid my boy. Allow your old uncle to give you some good advice. Perhaps it will be useful sometime in your life.
When you want something from people you must go after their little weaknesses. Remember that. I needed you today. For that I tolerated all the insults you threw at me–But you see how it worked. Now I have what I wanted from you–Now it is different and you come pleading to me. You never once thought it would go any other way–Not when you were so useful to me. Oh no! But perhaps there is something else you can do. Then you might be thankful for this good advice.”
Frank Braun said, “Uncle, I’m going down. Do it–For the first time in you life do it–what I ask of you–I know how it seems–and I will never go against you again. What do you want me to do?–Should I grovel even more before you?–Come, let this be enough–Give me the money.”
Then the Privy Councilor spoke, “I will make you a proposition, nephew. Do you promise to listen quietly? To not bluster and roar again like you always do?”
He said firmly, “Yes, Uncle Jakob.”
“Then listen–You shall have the money that you need to get you out of trouble. If you need more, we will have to talk a little about the amount later. But I need you–need you here at home. I will have it arranged for you to be placed there under house arrest for the duration of your sentence–”
“Why not?” Frank Braun answered. “It doesn’t matter to me if I am here or there. How long will you need me?”
“Around a year, not quite that long,” answered the professor.
“I agree,” said the attorney. “What do I need to do?”
“Oh not much,” replied the old man. “Just a little employment that you are already accustomed to and very good at!
You see, my boy,” the Privy Councilor continued. “I need a little help with this girl that you have arranged for me. You are entirely correct. She will run away from us, will become unspeakably bored during her pregnancy and certainly try to abort the child.
I want you to watch over her and protect our interests, prevent her from doing any of these things. Naturally it is a lot easier to do in a prison or workhouse where guards can continually watch. But unfortunately we are not equipped for that. I can’t lock her up in the terrarium with the frogs or in a cage like the monkeys or guinea pigs can I?”
“Certainly not, uncle.” the attorney said. “You must find some other way.”
The old man nodded, “I have found another way. We need someone that will keep her contented right where she is. Now it appears to me that Dr. Petersen is completely unsuitable to hold her interest for a long time. He could scarcely satisfy her for one night. But it needs to be a man. I was thinking about you–”
Frank Braun pressed the chair arms as if he would break them. He breathed deeply.
“Of me–” he repeated.
“Yes, of you,” the Privy Councilor continued. “It is one of the little things that I need you for. You can keep her from running away, tell her some new nonsense. Put your fantasies to some useful purpose and in the absence of her prince, she can fall in love with you. You will be able to satisfy her sensual and sexual requirements. If you are not enough for her, I’m sure you certainly have friends and acquaintances enough that would be glad to spend a few hours with such a beautiful creature.”
The attorney gasped, his voice rang hot. “Uncle,” he spoke. “Do you know what you are asking? You want me to be the lover of this prostitute while she is carrying the murderer’s child? I should entertain her and find new lovers for her every day? Be her pimp–”
“Certainly,” the professor interrupted him quietly. “I know very well what I’m doing. It appears to be the only thing in the world that you are very good at, my boy.”
He didn’t answer, felt this stroke, felt his cheeks become bright red, his temples glow hot. He felt the blows like long stripes from a riding whip cutting across his face and he understood quite well that his uncle was having his revenge.
The Privy Councilor knew it too, a satisfied grin spread across his drooping features.
“You can be grateful boy, “ he said slowly. “We don’t need to deceive each other, you and I. We can say things the way they really are. I will hire you as a pimp for this prostitute.”
Frank Braun felt as if he was lying on the floor helpless, completely unarmed, miserably naked and could not move while the old man stepped on him with his dirty feet and spit into his gaping wounds with his poisonous spittle–He could not find a word to speak. Somehow he staggered dizzily down the stairs and out into the street where he stood staring into the bright morning sun.
He scarcely knew that he left, felt like he had been mugged, dropped by a frightful blow to the head and left lying in the gutter. He scarcely knew who he was any more, wandering thr
ough the streets for what seemed like centuries until he stood in front of an advertisement pillar. He read the words on the poster but only saw the words without understanding them. Then he found himself at the train station, went to the counter and asked for a ticket.
“To where?” the attendant asked.
“To where?–Yes–to where?”
He was amazed to hear his own voice say, “Coblenz.”
He searched in all his pockets for money. “Third Class,” he cried.
He had enough for that. He climbed up the steps to the platform. That was when he first realized that he was without a hat–He sat down on a bench and waited.
Then he saw her carried in on a stretcher, saw Dr. Petersen come in behind her. He didn’t move from his place, it felt as if it had absolutely nothing at all to do with him. He saw the train arrive, watched how the doctor opened a cabin in First Class and how the bearers carefully placed their burden inside. Then in back, at the end of the train, he climbed inside.
He clenched his jawbone as hysterical laugher convulsed him. It is so appropriate–he thought. Third class– This is good enough for the menial–for the pimp. Then he forgot again as he sat on the hard bench pressed tightly into his corner and stared down at the floorboards.
The gloomy fog would not leave his head. He heard the names of the stations called one after another and it seemed to him as if they were like sparks flowing through a telegraph wire. At other times it seemed like an eternity between one station and another.
In Cologne he had to get out and change trains. He needed to wait for the one going to the Rhine. But it was no interruption; he scarcely noticed the difference, whether he was sitting on a hard bench there or in the train.
Then he was in Coblenz, climbed out and again wandered through the streets. Night was falling when it finally occurred to him that he needed to get back to the fortress. He went over the bridge, climbed up the rocks in the dark and followed the narrow footpath of the prisoners through the underbrush.
Suddenly he was up above, in the officer’s courtyard, then in his room sitting on his bed. Someone came down the hall and stepped into the room, candle in hand. It was the strong marine medic, Dr. Klaverjahn.
