Read Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune Online

Authors: Joe Bandel

Tags: #alraune, #decadence, #german, #gothic, #hanns heinz ewers, #horror, #literature, #translations

Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune (13 page)

BOOK: Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune
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She righted herself, stuck her hand out to
him.

“I promise you that I will never press myself
on him. He will never hear me or see me, but–but–”

“What is it girl?” he asked softly.

She grabbed his arm, fell onto her knees in
front of him and buried her head in his lap.

“Only once–only once!” she cried. “Can’t I
see him just one time? From a distance–perhaps out of a
window?”

“Will you finish this trashy comedy,” the
Privy Councilor threw at him.

Frank Braun looked wildly at him–and knew his
uncle was right but something in his blood rebelled and he hissed
back:

“Quiet you old fool! Don’t you see how
beautiful this is?”

He bent back down over the prostitute, “Yes,
girl. You shall see him, your young prince. I will take you along
when he leads his soldiers for the first time, or to the theater
when he is sitting above in the box–You can see him then–”

She didn’t answer, but she squeezed his hand
and tears mixed in with her kisses. Then he slowly straightened her
up, carefully set her back in the chair and gave her some more to
drink. It was a large glass half full of cognac.

“Will you do it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I will–What should I
do?”

He reflected a moment, “First–first–we will
draw up a little contract.”

He turned to the assistant doctor.

“Do you have some paper, doctor? And a quill?
Good! Then you can write. Write everything twice, if you
please.”

He dictated, said that the undersigned of
their own free will would agree to be at the disposal of his
Excellency ten Brinken for the purpose of this experiment. She
would solemnly promise to faithfully obey all the orders of this
gentleman. And further, that after the birth of the child she would
completely renounce all claim to it.

In return his Excellency would immediately
place fifteen thousand Marks into a savings account in the name of
the undersigned and turn this account over to her upon the delivery
of the child. He would further provide for her maintenance and
support up to that time and carry all costs as well as giving her a
monthly allowance of one hundred Marks to use as she pleased.

He took the paper and read it out loud one
time.

“It doesn’t say anything about the prince!”
she said.

“Naturally it doesn’t,” he declared. “That
must remain highly secret.”

She could see that, but there was still
something that bothered her.

“Why–” she asked. “Why did you pick me? Any
woman would gladly do what she could for the poor prince.”

He hesitated. This question was a little
unexpected but he found an answer.

“Well, you know,” he began. “it is like
this–The prince’s childhood sweetheart was a very beautiful
duchess. He loved her with all his heart as only a real prince can
love and she loved the handsome young noble just as much. But she
died.”

“How did she die?” Alma asked.

“She died of–of the measles. The prince’s
beloved had golden red hair just like yours. She looked exactly
like you. The prince’s last wish is that the mother of his child
look like the beloved of his youth. He gave us her picture and
described her to us exactly. We searched all over Europe and never
found the right one–until tonight when we saw you.”

She was flattered and laughed. “Do I really
look like the beautiful duchess?”

He cried, “You could have been sisters!–By
the way, can we take your photograph? It would make the prince very
happy to see your picture!”

He handed the writing quill over to her, “Now
sign, child!”

She took the paper and wrote “Al–” Then she
stopped.

“There is a fat hair in the quill.”

She took a napkin and cleaned the quill with
it.

“Damn–” murmured Frank Braun. “It occurs to
me that she is not yet an adult. Legally we must also have her
father’s signature–Oh well, this will do for the contract. Just
write!–By the way, what is your father’s name?”

She said, “My father is Master Baker Raune in
Halberstadt.”

Then she wrote her father’s name in clumsy
slanting letters. Frank Braun took the paper out of her hand and
looked at it. He let it fall and picked it up again staring at
it.

“By all that’s Holy,” he cried out loud.
“That–that is–”

“What’s the matter now, Herr Doctor?” asked
the assistant doctor.

He handed the contract over to him,
“There–there–look at the signature.”

Dr. Petersen looked at the sheet of
paper.

“So,” he asked puzzled. “I don’t see anything
remarkable about it.”

“No, no. Naturally not, you wouldn’t,” cried
Frank Braun. “Give the contract to the Privy Councilor. Now read
that, Uncle Jakob!”

The professor examined the signature. The
girl had forgotten to finish writing her first name. “Al Raune” was
written on the paper.

“Of all things–A remarkable coincidence,”
said the professor.

He folded both sheets carefully together and
stuck them in his breast pocket.

But his nephew cried, “A coincidence?–Well it
might be a coincidence–Everything that is remarkable and mysterious
is just a coincidence to you!”

He rang for the waiter.

“Wine, wine,” he cried. “Give me something to
drink– Alma Raune–Al Raune, if you will.”

He sat down at the table and leaned over
toward the Privy Councilor.

“Uncle Jakob, do you remember old Councilor
to the Chamber of Commerce Brunner from Cologne and his son whom he
named Marco? We had classes together in school even though he was a
couple of years older than I was.

He father named him Marco as a joke and now
the boy goes through life as Marco Brunner! Now here is the
coincidence. The old Councilor to the Chamber of Commerce is the
most sober man in the world and so is his wife. So are all of their
children. I believe the only thing they drank in their house at
Neumarkt was water, milk, tea and coffee.

But Marco drank. He drank a lot even as an
upper level student. We often brought him home drunk. Then he
became an ensign and then a lieutenant–that was it. He drank more
and more. He did stupid things and was put away. Three times his
father had him placed into treatment centers and three times he
came out. Within a few weeks he was drinking more than ever.

Now comes the coincidence. He, Marco Brunner,
drank–Marcobrunner! That was his obsession. He went into all the
wine houses in the city searching for his label. He traveled around
on the Rhine drinking up all that he could find of his wine. He
drank up the sizable fortune that he had received from his
grandmother.

‘Hey everyone,’ he screamed in his delirium.
‘Why does Marco Brunner polish off Marcobrunner? Because
Marcobrunner polishes off Marco Brunner!’

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.

BOOK: Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune
9.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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