The Sleepwalkers

by Hermann Broch

  It was no doubt the weirdness of this procession led by the white lady with the ghostly robes that made the hair bristle on the housebreaker’s head and paralysed him so completely that he was scarcely capable of swinging his leg back over the fence again. And when he had done so he gaped for a while longer at the spectral apparition, and then he ran from the place and vanished in the darkness.

  Meanwhile Hanna went on her way, and when she reached the fence she stuck her hand through the railings as through the bars of a window, and seemed to be waving good-bye to someone. From the town came the glare of the conflagration, but the explosions had ceased and the spell was broken. And even the wind had fallen. She sank to sleep against the bars of the fence and was carried back into the house by the gardener and the cook, where they prepared a bed for her in the storeroom next to the kitchen.

  (There next day Hanna Wendling succumbed to a severe attack of influenza complicated by pneumonia.)

  Huguenau marched back. Before a house a sobbing child was standing, it was certainly not more than three at most. Where could Marguerite be hiding? he wondered. He lifted up the child, pointed out to it the beautiful fireworks sending their light over from the market-place; and he imitated the crackling and hissing of the flames and the crashing of the falling beams, his-s-ss whish-sh-sh-sh bang! until he made the child laugh. Then he carried it into the house and informed the mother that she shouldn’t leave a small child out in the street in times such as these without someone to look after it.

  When he reached the house he leant his rifle against the wall of the entrance hall just as Esch had done, then lifted the trap-door and climbed down to the Major.

  Since Esch left the Major had not changed his position; he was still lying on the heap of potatoes, the note between his fingers; but his blue eyes were open and staring at the flame of the cellar lamp. Nor did he turn his eyes away from it when Huguenau entered. Huguenau cleared his throat, and when the Major gave no sign he felt offended. This wasn’t a time to continue keeping up a childish quarrel. He pulled in the stool which Frau Esch used when she picked the potatoes, and with a polite bow seated himself opposite the Major:

  “Herr Major, I can understand of course that you have reasons for not wanting to see me, but that’s ancient history by now, and besides events have ended by justifying me, and I can’t keep silent about the fact that you have seen me in a quite false light; don’t forget, Herr Major, that I have been the victim of a miserable intrigue, one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but only think of the contempt that that canting parson treated me with from the very beginning, Herr Major. And never a word of thanks! Has the Herr Major ever given me a word of recognition for all the functions I’ve arranged in honour of the Herr Major? no, never more than ‘ I thank you ’—but for the rest: you keep your distance and I’ll keep mine. But I don’t want to be unjust, once you did give me your hand quite spontaneously, that time the Iron Bismarck was unveiled: you see, Herr Major, that I’ve cherished in my memory every act of kindness you’ve shown me, but even then the Herr Major’s lips had an ironical expression on them. If you only knew how I hated it when Esch put on that expression. I was always shut out, if I may be permitted to say so. And why? simply because I didn’t happen to belong to the town from the beginning … a foreigner, so to speak, an interloper, as Esch so kindly put it. That was no reason for jeering at me and slighting me; I had always to decrease, that was another of his expressions—I had always to decrease, so that our Reverend Parson might increase and cut a great figure before the Herr Major. I saw that all right, and I can assure Herr Major that that hurts a man’s feelings; and the insinuations you used to throw out about ‘evil,’ all pointing at me, ah yes, I understood them quite well too, just try and remember, Herr Major, for a whole evening you talked about evil, no wonder if a man who gets such things said to him should end by becoming really evil. I admit too that the facts seemed to support it, and that the Herr Major would perhaps call me a blackmailer or a murderer to-day. And yet it’s only a matter of appearance, in reality it’s all quite different, only one can’t express it exactly, so to speak; besides, it looks as though you haven’t the slightest desire to know what it really is. Yes, Herr Major, you talked a great deal about love that evening too, and Esch has been drivelling about love ever since—his drivel always made me sick, in any case, but when one is continually talking about love one might at least try to understand a fellow-creature. Oh, Herr Major, I know of course that I can’t ask for that, and that a man in Herr Major’s position would never condescend to have such feelings for a man like me, after all nothing better than a common deserter, though I would like to be allowed to say that Esch wasn’t such a great deal better than myself.… I don’t know whether the Herr Major quite understands what I mean, but I beg the Herr Major to have patience.…”

  Polishing his eyeglasses he gazed at the Major, from whom there still proceeded neither movement nor sound:

  “I beg the Herr Major most urgently not to imagine that I am keeping him imprisoned in this cellar for the purpose of forcing him to listen to me; frightful things are happening out there in the town, and if the Herr Major were to go out the Herr Major would be strung up to a lamp-post. The Herr Major will be able to convince himself of that to-morrow with his own eyes; for God’s sake, put some trust in me for once.…”

  So Huguenau spoke on to the living and motionless puppet, until he saw at last that the Major did not hear him. But even then he did not want to believe it:

  “I beg pardon, the Herr Major is exhausted and here I am talking. I’ll fetch something to eat.”

  He hastily rushed upstairs. Frau Esch sat humped together on one of the kitchen chairs, sobbing to herself, her body shaking convulsively. When he entered she started up:

  “Where is my man?”

  “He’s all right, he’ll be here presently. Have you anything to eat? I need it for a wounded man.”

  “Is my man wounded?”

  “No, I told you he’ll be here presently. Give me something to eat. Could you make an omelette? No, that would take too long.…”

  He went into the living-room; a plate with a slice of sausage stood on the table. Without asking he seized it and stuck it between two slices of bread. Frau Esch had followed him and in a voice shrill with anxiety cried:

  “Let that be, that belongs to my man.”

  Huguenau had the uncomfortable feeling that one dared take nothing belonging to the dead; perhaps too it would bring the Major ill luck if he ate the food of the dead. Besides, sausage wasn’t the right sort of thing for him in any case. He reflected for a moment:

  “Right, but surely you must have some milk … you always have milk in the house.”

  Yes, she had some milk. He filled a milk-jug and carried it carefully down to the cellar.

  “Herr Major, here’s milk, lovely rich new milk!” he cried in a brisk voice.

  The Major did not move. Obviously milk wasn’t the right thing either; Huguenau was annoyed at his mistake: perhaps I should have brought him wine instead? that would have roused and strengthened him … still he seems to be very feeble … well, now we’ll try him with it all the same! And Huguenau bent down and lifted the old man’s head, and the Major let him do it without making any resistance and even obediently opened his lips when Huguenau put the beak of the milk-jug to them. And when the Major accepted and swallowed the slowly trickling milk Huguenau felt happy. He ran upstairs to fetch a second jugful; at the door he glanced back, saw that the Major had turned his head to see where he was going, and nodding back kindly he waved a hand: “I’ll be back at once.” And when he descended once more the Major was still gazing at the cellar door and greeted him with a little smile, indeed it was more like a faint laugh. But he drank only a few drops more. Holding Huguenau by the finger he had fallen asleep.

  With his finger in the Major’s hand Huguenau sat on. He read the note which was still lying on the Major’s breast and put this piece of evidence in his pocket.
Of course he wouldn’t need it, for if he found himself in a tight corner he would say in any case that the Major had been given into his keeping by Esch: all the same, best to make doubly sure. From time to time he tried cautiously to free his finger, but then the Major wakened, smiled vaguely and without releasing the finger fell asleep again. The stool was very hard and uncomfortable. Thus they passed the rest of the night.

  Towards morning Huguenau managed to free himself. No joke to sit all night on a stool. He climbed out to the street. It was still dark. The town seemed to be quiet. He went across to the market-place. The Town Hall, gutted to the very ground, was smouldering and smoking. The military and the fire brigade had set sentries round it. Two houses in the market-place had also caught fire, and house furniture lay piled up in confusion in front of them. Now and then the hose was again set in action to damp down some new smouldering outbreak. Huguenau was struck by the fact that men in convict uniform were also helping to work the hose and eagerly taking part in the work of clearing up the mess. He spoke to a man who like himself was wearing a green armlet, and asked what had happened since last evening, for he himself had been occupied elsewhere. The man was glad to talk: the collapse of the Town Hall, he said, had really finished the whole business. After that they had all stood round the fire looking pretty foolish, friend and foe alike, and had their work cut out to save the neighbouring houses. A few ruffians, it was true, had tried to force their way into the houses, but when their own comrades heard the women screaming they had fallen on the looters. One or two of them had got their skulls caved in, and that was all to the good, for after that nobody had thought of looting any more. Just a few minutes ago the wounded had been taken over to the hospital—it was high time too, for their shrieks and groans were almost past endurance. Of course the authorities in Trier had been rung up straight away, but there was chaos and rioting there too, naturally, and two car-loads of soldiers had only arrived a little while ago, when all was over. It was said too that the Town Commandant was missing.…

  No need to worry about the Commandant, said Huguenau, he himself had got him in safe keeping; and the Major had been in a pretty tight corner too, really he himself deserved a medal for lifesaving, for now the old man was being well looked after, and as he said before, quite safe.

  He raised his fingers to his hat in salute, turned back the way he had come, and set out at a trot for the hospital. The dawn was already breaking.

  Kühlenbeck was not to be found at first, but presently he appeared, and when he caught sight of Huguenau, bawled at him: “What do you want here, you clown?” Huguenau put on his most offended expression: “Herr Doctor Kühlenbeck, I have to report to you that Herr Esch and myself had to hide the Herr Town Commandant, who is gravely wounded, in our premises all night … will you be so good as to give instructions for him to be removed at once.” Kühlenbeck rushed to the door:

  “Doctor Flurschütz,” he thundered down the corridor. Flurschütz came. “Take a car—the cars have returned now, haven’t they?—and drive to the newspaper place, take two attendants with you … you know where it is, I suppose … but it’s all one,” he barked at Huguenau, “for you’re going with them.” Then he seemed to soften: he actually gave Huguenau his hand and said: “Come, it was very nice of you both to look after him.…”

  When they reached the cellar the Major was still peacefully sleeping on his heap of potatoes, and still asleep he was carried out. Meanwhile Huguenau had run across to the editorial office. There wasn’t much ready cash in the place, it was true, only the petty cash and some stamps; the rest he carried upon him, except for what he had sent to Cologne and put in the bank; but it would be a pity to leave the stamps … one never knew what might happen … perhaps there might be some more looting after all! When he returned the Major was already installed in the car, a few people were standing round it asking what had happened, and Flurschütz was preparing to drive off. It was like a blow in the face to Huguenau; they were about to take the Major away without him. And suddenly he saw clearly that he himself dared not in any circumstances stay behind, he hadn’t the slightest wish to be present when Esch’s body was brought home.

  “Wait for me, I’m coming immediately, Doctor,” he cried, “immediately!”

  “How? Do you want to come with us, Herr Huguenau?”

  “But of course! I’ve got to give my report on the whole business … just one minute, please.”

  He rushed upstairs. Frau Esch was praying on her knees in the kitchen. When Huguenau appeared in the doorway she made towards him, still on her knees. He did not listen to her appeals, but dashed past her into his room, seized such of his possessions as he could lay hands on-—and he did not possess much—rammed them into his fibre suitcase, sat upon it until the lock snapped to, and then flew back. “Ready,” he shouted to the chauffeur, and they drove off.

  At the hospital Kühlenbeck was standing in front of the door, his watch in his hand:

  “Well, what’s the matter with him?”

  Flurschütz, who had got out first, gazed across at the Major with his somewhat inflamed eyes:

  “Perhaps concussion … perhaps something more serious.…”

  Kühlenbeck said:

  “This place is a pure madhouse already … and it calls itself a hospital … well, we’ll see.…”

  The Major, who during the drive had begun to blink up at the pallid morning sky, was now wide awake. As he was being lifted out of the car he became excited; he flung himself about, and it was obvious that he was looking for something. Kühlenbeck stepped across and bent over him:

  “Come, this is a nice way to behave, Herr Major!”

  But at that the Major became quite furious. Whether it was that he recognized Kühlenbeck, or that he did not recognize him, at any rate he seized him by the beard, tugged at it fiercely, gnashing his teeth, and only with difficulty could be got under control. But he became peaceable and docile at once as soon as Huguenau stepped up to the stretcher. He took hold of Huguenau’s finger again, Huguenau had to walk alongside the stretcher, and he would only submit to be examined so long as Huguenau sat by his side.

  Kühlenbeck, however, broke off his examination very soon:

  “It has no object,” he said, “we’ll give him an injection and then we’ll just have to send him away … this place will have to be evacuated in any case … so get him off to Cologne as quickly as possible … but how? I can’t spare anybody here, the order to evacuate the hospital may arrive at any moment.…

  Huguenau stepped forward:

  “Perhaps I could take the Herr Major to Cologne … as a voluntary ambulance attendant, if I may put it like that … the gentlemen can see for themselves that the Herr Major is satisfied with my attendance.”

  Kühlenbeck reflected:

  “With the afternoon train? … no, that’s far too uncertain now.…”

  Flurschütz had an idea:

  “But there must be a motor-van going to Cologne to-day … couldn’t one arrange somehow or other for it to take him?”

  “To-day anything can be arranged,” said Kühlenbeck.

  “Then may I ask you to give me a permit to proceed to Cologne?” said Huguenau.

  And so it happened that Huguenau, furnished with authentic military documents, on his sleeve a red-cross armlet which he had extracted from Sister Mathilde, was given official charge of the Major, and conducted him to Cologne. They fixed up the stretcher in the van, Huguenau took up his post beside it on his fibre case, and the Major seized his hand and did not let it go again. After a while Huguenau too was overcome by fatigue. He settled himself as well as he could beside the stretcher, pushed his case under his head, and lying side by side, hand in hand, they slept like two friends. And so they arrived at Cologne.

  Huguenau delivered the Major at the hospital according to orders, waited patiently by his bed until an injection had banished all danger of a new outbreak, and then he was able to steal away. From the hospital authorities he actually eng
ineered a permit to return to his Colmar home, whereupon he lifted from the bank the remainder of the balance credited to the Kur-Trier Herald, and next day he departed. His war Odyssey, his lovely holiday was at an end. It was the 5th of November.

  CHAPTER LXXXVI

  STORY OF THE SALVATION ARMY GIRL IN BERLIN (16)

  Who can be more light-hearted than an invalid? there is nothing to force him into the struggle for life, he is quite at liberty even to die if he likes. He is not obliged to draw inductive conclusions from the events of the day in order to orient his behaviour; he can remain wrapped in the cocoon of his own thoughts,—wrapped in the autonomy of his own knowledge he is free to think deductively, to think theologically. Who can be happier than the man who is at freedom to think out his religion!

  Sometimes I go out by myself. I walk along slowly, my hands in my pockets, and gaze into the faces of the passers-by. They are finite faces, but often, indeed always, I can manage to discover the infinite behind them. These are, so to speak, my inductive escapades. The fact that during these roving expeditions, which certainly never take me very far—only once did I get as far as Schöneberg, and that made me very tired—I have never encountered Marie, that among all the faces hers has never emerged, that she has so completely vanished from my ken, hardly even disappoints me, for the times are uncertain, and she was always expecting to be sent away on foreign missionary service. I am quite happy without her, as it is.

  The days have grown short. And as electric current is expensive and a man wrapped in the cocoon of his own autonomy can easily dispense with light, I have long nights. Nuchem often sits with me. Sits in the darkness and says little. His thoughts no doubt are with Marie, but he has never mentioned her.