Beware of Pity

by Stefan Zweig

  They travelled first class in the express — it was the first time that Kekesfalva had sat on the red velvet cushions. In Vienna he took her to a good hotel in the Kärtnerstrasse and booked a room there for himself also. Now on the one hand it was essential that Kanitz should that very evening have the deed of sale drawn up by his accommodating lawyer, Dr Gollinger, so as to get the whole thing put on a legally incontestable basis the very next day, and on the other he did not dare leave his victim alone for even a second. And so he hit upon what I must frankly admit was a brilliant idea. He suggested to Fräulein Dietzenhof that she should spend the evening at the opera, where a much-talked-of performance by a visiting company was billed, while he would see if he could not get into touch that very evening with the gentleman who, he knew, was looking out for a large estate. Touched by so much solicitude, Fräulein Dietzenhof agreed with alacrity; he deposited her safely at the opera — she would not be able to budge now for four hours. He himself, meanwhile, dashed off in a cab — also for the first time in his life — to his crony, Dr Gollinger. He was not at home, but Kanitz routed him out of a wine-bar, and promised him two thousand crowns if he would draw up the agreement in all its details that very night and make an appointment with the notary for seven o’clock the next evening.

  Kanitz — a spendthrift for the first time in his life — had kept the cab waiting outside the lawyer’s house while they had been talking. Racing back in it to the opera, he arrived just in time to catch an enraptured Fräulein Dietzenhof in the foyer and escort her back to the hotel. And so a second sleepless night began for him. The nearer he approached his goal, the more was he racked by anxiety lest the hitherto submissive heiress might yet elude him. Getting out of bed again and again, he worked out in the minutest detail the tactics he was going to employ the next day to encircle the enemy. Above all, he must not leave her alone for a single moment. He must hire a cab, and keep it waiting everywhere they went; they must never take a step on foot, lest she might run into her lawyer in the street. He must prevent her from looking at a newspaper, for there might be a paragraph about the settlement in the Orosvár lawsuit, and she might begin to suspect that she was being swindled a second time. But, as it happened, all these fears and precautions were needless, for the victim did not want to escape; she ran obediently after the wicked shepherd like a woolly lamb on a pink ribbon, and when, after a ghastly night, our friend entered the breakfast-room of the hotel in a state of utter exhaustion, she was sitting there, waiting patiently, in the same home-made gown. And now began a strange whirligig, our friend dragging poor Fräulein Dietzenhof round with him quite unnecessarily from morning to evening, so as to delude her into believing that all the spurious difficulties which he himself had so laboriously invented for her during his sleepless night were real.

  I shall pass over the details, but he dragged her to his lawyer and from there telephoned all over the place about all sorts of other matters. He took her to a bank and asked for the manager in order to consult him with regard to the investment of her money and to open an account for her; he hauled her along to several mortgage banks and to an obscure real-estate broker’s on the pretext that he had to obtain some information. And she went with him, she waited quietly and patiently in the ante-rooms while he carried on his sham negotiations. Twelve years of slavery in the service of the Princess had long since inured her to this waiting; it neither depressed nor humiliated her, and she waited, waited, her hands motionless in her lap, lowering the gaze of her blue eyes whenever anyone passed. She did whatever Kanitz asked, as patiently and obediently as a child. She signed documents at the bank without so much as glancing at them, and so unhesitatingly signed receipts for sums of money she had never received that Kanitz began to be assailed by the disturbing thought that this silly woman might perhaps have been equally satisfied with a hundred and forty or even a hundred and thirty thousand crowns. She said ‘Yes’ when the bank manager advised her to put her money in railway stock. ‘Yes’ when he suggested bank shares, and invariably looked across anxiously at her oracle Kanitz. It was patent that all these business formalities, these signatures and forms, indeed the mere sight of money, inspired in her a feeling of acute uneasiness that was yet tinged with awe, and that the one thing she longed for was to run away from all these puzzling transactions and to sit down in some quiet room again, to read, to knit or to play the piano, instead of being compelled, unpractical-minded and unsure of herself as she was, to face such weighty decisions.

  But Kanitz drove her untiringly along on this round of spurious visits, partly in order to help her, as he had promised, to invest the purchase price of the estate in the safest way, partly in order to throw her into a state of confusion; and so it went on from nine in the morning until half-past five in the evening. In the end they were both so exhausted that he suggested they might go and sit down in a café. All the essentials were settled, the sale was as good as completed; she would have only to sign the deed of sale at the notary’s at seven o’clock and to receive the purchase price. Immediately her face lit up.

  ‘Ah, then I can go away tomorrow morning?’ Her cornflower eyes beamed at him.

  ‘Why, of course,’ said Kanitz soothingly. ‘In an hour’s time you will be the freest person on earth and will have no more need to bother about money and property. Your investments will bring you in an absolutely safe six thousand crowns a year. You can live anywhere in the whole wide world, wherever you like and as you like.’

  Out of politeness he inquired where she meant to go, and her face, which the moment before had brightened, clouded over.

  ‘I was thinking that it might be best if I went to my relatives in Westphalia. I think there’s a train via Cologne in the morning.’

  Kanitz immediately displayed tremendous zeal. He asked the waiter for the time-table, looked through the index, worked out all the connections. Express Vienna-Frankfurt-Cologne, change at Osnabrück. It would be best to take the nine-twenty, which arrived in Frankfurt in the evening, he said; he would advise her to spend the night there, so as not to get too tired. In his restless eagerness he went on turning over the pages and found an advertisement of a Protestant hostel. She need not bother about the ticket, he would see to that, and would also be sure to see her off in the morning. In the discussion of such little matters the time passed more quickly than he had hoped; and now at last he could look at the clock and remark: ‘I say, we must be off to the notary’s now!’

  Within the space of an hour the whole thing was settled. Within the space of an hour our friend had swindled the heiress out of three-quarters of her fortune. When his accomplice saw the name of Schloss Kekesfalva filled in on the agreement, saw, moreover, what a paltry sum was being paid for it, he screwed up one eye behind Fräulein Dietzenhof’s back and winked admiringly at his old crony, as much as to say, ‘Splendid, you dog! You have pulled off something this time!’ The notary also gazed with interest from behind his glasses at Fräulein Dietzenhof; he had, of course, read in the newspapers of the struggle over Princess Orosvár’s inheritance, and he was somewhat suspicious of this hasty resale of the estate. Poor creature, he thought, you’ve fallen into evil hands! But it is not the duty of a notary to warn either seller or purchaser when witnessing the signatures to a deed of sale. It is his job to stamp the deed, to fill it up, and to see that the fees are duly paid. And so the good man merely bowed his head — he had had to witness many a shady transaction and set the seal of the imperial eagle upon it — neatly unfolded the agreement and politely invited Fräulein Dietzenhof to sign first.

  The timid creature gave a start. She gazed irresolutely at her mentor Kanitz, and not until he had encouraged her with a nod did she step up to the table and write in her neat, clear, straight German hand: ‘Annette Beate Maria Dietzenhof.’ Then it was our friend’s turn to sign. And therewith the whole thing was settled: the document signed, the purchase price handed over to the notary, the bank account named into which the cheque was to be paid next day. With one
stroke of the pen Leopold Kanitz had doubled or trebled his fortune. From that moment he, and he alone, was lord and master of Kekesfalva.

  The notary carefully blotted the signatures. Then they all three shook hands with him and walked down the stairs, Fräulein Dietzenhof first, after her Kanitz, holding his breath, and last of all Dr Gollinger, who, to Kanitz’s extreme annoyance, kept poking him in the ribs from behind with his stick and declaiming sotto voce in a beery voice: ‘Scampus maximus, scampus maximus.’ Nevertheless, Kanitz was by no means pleased when Dr Gollinger took leave of him at the door of the building with an ironically low bow, for now he was left alone with his victim — and this really terrified him.

  You must try, my dear Lieutenant, to understand this unexpected revolution in his feelings. I should not like to express it sentimentally and say that our friend Kanitz’s conscience had suddenly been awakened — but ever since that stroke of the pen the external situation between the two partners to the agreement had utterly changed. Just think: during the whole of these two days Kanitz, in the role of purchaser, had struggled against this poor woman, in the role of vendor. She had been the opponent whom he had had to encircle strategically, whom he had had to close in upon and force into capitulation. But now the financial-military operation had come to an end. Napoleon Kanitz had won a victory, a complete victory, and this poor, quiet, simply dressed woman, who was walking beside him along the Walfischgasse, was no longer his opponent, his enemy. And, strange as it may sound, nothing oppressed our friend more at this moment of speedy victory than the fact that his victim had made his victory too easy for him. For when one does another person an injustice, in some mysterious way it does one good to discover (or to persuade oneself) that the injured party has also behaved badly or unfairly in some little matter or other; it is always a relief to the conscience if one can apportion some measure of guilt to the person one has betrayed. But Kanitz could not accuse this victim of anything, even the slightest thing; she had yielded herself up with bound hands and had never ceased, moreover, to cast unsuspecting, grateful looks at him out of her cornflower-blue eyes. What was he to say to her now? Congratulate her on the sale of the estate, that is, its loss? He felt more and more uncomfortable. I shall see her to the hotel, he thought quickly, and then the whole thing will be over.

  But his victim had for her part also become visibly uneasy. Her gait too had changed; she was walking along thoughtfully, hesitantly. This change did not escape Kanitz’s notice, although his head was lowered; he felt from the way in which she falteringly put one foot down after another (he did not dare to look her in the face) that her mind was preoccupied with something. He was seized with panic. Now at last she has tumbled to it that I am the purchaser, he thought. She’ll probably start upbraiding me now; she’s probably already repenting her stupid haste and will go running off to her lawyer tomorrow.

  But now at last — they had walked in silence down the whole of the Walfischgasse, side by side, shadow by shadow — she plucked up courage, cleared her throat and began:

  ‘Forgive me ... but as I’m going away tomorrow morning I should like to settle everything up first ... I should like, above all, to thank you for the trouble you have taken and ... and ... to ask you to be so kind as to tell me frankly how much I owe you for all your trouble. You’ve lost so much time by seeing to all this for me and ... I’m leaving tomorrow morning ... I should like to settle everything up first.’

  Our friend’s footsteps faltered, his heart stopped beating. This was too much! He had not been prepared for this. He was assailed by the kind of disagreeable feeling one has when one has beaten a dog in anger and the poor creature comes crawling along upon its belly, looks up at one imploringly and licks the hand that has administered the cruel punishment.

  ‘No, no,’ he protested in genuine dismay, ‘you owe me nothing, nothing at all.’ And he could feel the sweat breaking out all over him. To him, to this man who always foresaw everything, who for years had learned to be prepared for every reaction on the part of a client, this was an entirely novel experience. During the hard years when he had been a little agent doors had been shut in his face, people had turned their backs on him, and there had been streets in his district which he had preferred to avoid. But that someone should actually thank him — that had never yet happened to him. And he felt ashamed in the presence of this, the first person to trust, to go on trusting him. He felt constrained to make excuses.

  ‘No,’ he stammered, ‘good lord, no! You owe me nothing at all ... I wouldn’t dream of taking anything. I only hope I’ve done the right thing and have acted entirely to your satisfaction. Perhaps it would have been better to wait, I’m afraid perhaps we might have ... might have got more if you had not been in such a hurry. But you wanted to make a quick sale, didn’t you? And I think you’ve done the best thing. By God, I think you’ve done the best thing!’

  He was able to breathe freely again; he became positively honest at this moment.

  ‘A person like you who has no knowledge of business had much better have nothing to do with it. It’s much better that a person like yourself ... should get a smaller, but safe sum. Don’t’ — he swallowed hard — ‘don’t, I beg you, let yourself be put off by people who tell you later on that you have made a bad bargain, or have let the place go too cheaply. You’ll always find people who’ll come along after you’ve sold a thing and throw their weight about and say they would have given more, far more ... but when it comes to the point they never produce the cash. They’d have all got you tied up with a lot of bills of exchange or promissory notes and shares. Those would be no good to you, no good at all, I swear to you. You wouldn’t be able to cope with them. To do business one must ... one must be hard as nails, and clever and cunning into the bargain ... and you’re not that. For you it was better to have a smaller sum, but a safe sum. And your money is safe. I swear to you, as I stand here before you, the bank is a first-class one and your money is safe! You’ll get your dividends regularly to the day and hour, nothing can go wrong. Believe me ... I swear to you ... it’s better for you as it is.’

  Meanwhile they had reached the hotel. Kanitz hesitated. I ought at least to treat her to something, he thought. Invite her out to dinner, or perhaps to a theatre. But she was already holding out her hand.

  ‘I don’t think I ought to keep you any longer ... I’ve been worried the whole day to think that you should have given up so much of your time on my behalf. For two whole days you’ve devoted yourself exclusively to my affairs, and I really have a feeling that no one could have been more self-sacrificing. Once again ... thank you very much. Never’ — she blushed slightly — ‘never has anyone been so kind to me, so helpful. I should never have thought it possible that I should have got this business off my hands so quickly, that everything would be made so easy and pleasant for me ... thank you very, very much.’

  Kanitz took her hand, and as he did so he could not help looking up at her. Something of her habitual apprehension had been swept away by the warmth of her emotion. There was a warm glow on her usually too pallid and frightened features; she looked almost childlike with her expressive blue eyes and her grateful little smile. Kanitz sought in vain for words. But before he could speak she had said ‘Good-bye’ and walked away, light, graceful and confident; her gait was now quite different from what it had been, it was the gait of someone who had cast off a burden, someone liberated. Kanitz looked uncertainly after her, but the porter had already handed her the key of her room, and the page was showing her to the lift. The whole thing was over.

  And so it was that the lamb took leave of the slaughterer. Kanitz, however, felt as though he had struck his own head with the axe. He stood there dazed for a few minutes, staring into the deserted foyer of the hotel. Finally the ebb and flow of the street carried him away, he did not know whither. Never yet had anyone looked at him like that, with such a human, such a grateful expression. Never yet had anyone spoken to him like that. That ‘thank you very, very much�
�� still rang in his ears. And this was the person he had plundered, betrayed! Again and again he came to a halt and wiped the sweat from his brow. And suddenly, outside the big glassware shop in the Kärtnerstrasse, along which he stumbled, reeled aimlessly, as though drunk with sleep, he found himself confronted by his own face in the mirror in the shop-window, and he stared at himself as one looks at the photograph of a criminal in the paper in order to find out what it actually is that is criminal about the features; the pugnacious chin, the ugly-looking lip, or the cruel eyes. He stared at himself, and catching sight of his own anxious, wide-open eyes, he suddenly remembered the eyes of the woman he had just left. Those are the kind of eyes one ought to have, he thought with a sudden shock, not red-rimmed, greedy, restless eyes like mine. Those are the eyes one ought to have — blue, luminous eyes, inspired by inner faith. (My mother used to look like that sometimes, he thought, on Friday evenings.) Yes, that was the kind of person one ought to be, a person who’d rather be betrayed than betray — a decent, guileless person. That’s the only kind that’s blessed by God. All my wiles, he thought, haven’t made me happy. I’m still a lost soul who knows no peace. Leopold Kanitz walked on to the end of the street, a stranger to himself, and never had he felt more wretched than on this day of his greatest triumph.