Read Traveler of the Century Online
Authors: Andrés Neuman
Traveler of the Century (43 page)
(Herr Gottlieb continued giving her explanations, but Sophie had stopped listening. All she could think of was that now she would be able to spend a whole summer with Hans. A whole summer! She hadn't wanted to tell Hans, but for weeks she had been fearing the moment when her father announced the date of their departure, as he did every August. She could scarcely contain her glee at such good fortune. This really was news. She had to tell him at once, she had to write and tell him.)
⦠And so, my child, Herr Gottlieb said at last, I'm sure we shall enjoy a very pleasant summer and that this decision is for the best, vis-à -vis your wedding and your future. Although, I repeat, if you'd been looking forward to going away, I could still see if. No, I won't hear of it! Sophie interrupted. No, Father, no. Naturally, I can't deny I'm a little disappointed we aren't going away as usual. But the most important thing is you've reached a considered decision, and I trust your reasons implicitly and, as ever, place myself blindly in your hands. Are you sure, my child? said Herr Gottlieb. Yes, Father, completely, she nodded, putting on a stoical air. My dear Sophie, her father rejoiced, I knew you'd understand! Come over here and give me a kiss, my darling, my darling.
My darling, my darling, you won't believe this, I'm so happy â¦
Sophie stopped writing, went to check that her door was closed
properly and lay down again on her orange eiderdown.
properly and lay down again on her orange eiderdown.
⦠in fact, I already noticed when we went away on holiday last summer, that for the first time ever we spent the whole journey facing away from the horses. My father told me it was because all the forward-facing seats were taken, but it struck me as odd, and while we were traveling I saw several coaches with empty seats. My father only tells half the story and everyone at home seems nervous. What does it matter, I'm happy. I'm staying here, my love, to translate for us. And with any luck, a little extra luck, Rudi will soon be off on holiday and everything will be easier,
amore d'estate, estate d'amore
â¦
amore d'estate, estate d'amore
â¦
Elsa knocked on the study doorâshe did it so timidly that she had to repeat the gesture three times before Herr Gottlieb looked up from the portrait of the pale young woman, cleared his throat and replied. This was only the second time since Elsa had been in his employ that Herr Gottlieb had called her to his study. The first occasion had been prompted by Gladys, the chambermaid, threatening to resign unless she was granted a weekend off every month.
Come in, my dear, come in, Herr Gottlieb said, topping up his brandy glass, how are you, my girl? Everything shipshape? Busy today? Good, good, I'm glad to hear it. Now, you know how much I value your efficiency and your sense of responsibility, without you this house would be a shambles! In short, I've always known I could depend on your cooperation, isn't that so, my dear? Good, very good. You'll be wondering why I haven't rung for Bertold, but, you see, I can't ask him about this delicate matter because it concerns Sophie, and naturally I wouldn't want this conversation to leave this room, especially with the wedding drawing near, and not a word of it to Sophie, either, you know how difficult she gets when something displeases her, do I make myself clear? Good. You see, it's about these
strolls and excursions you take with Sophie and, and well, these sessions, these work sessions with Herr Hans. As you always go with them, I was wondering whether the two of them, that is, if you have ever, in passing, noticed anythingâdon't look so worried, my dear, rest assured this isn't an interrogation, as I see it we are simply having an informal chat, aren't we? The head of the house sometimes needs to reassure himself that everything is going according to plan, that is all. Yes, of course, my dear, I don't doubt that if you had noticed anything ⦠Only, you see, sometimes people talk, and such gossip might reach ⦠Naturally, our family is above reproach, you needn't remind me of that, what I'm asking you, Elsa, and please consider this a friendly suggestion if you will, is to increase your vigilance and to take care that ⦠Yes, precisely. Well then, that's settled.
strolls and excursions you take with Sophie and, and well, these sessions, these work sessions with Herr Hans. As you always go with them, I was wondering whether the two of them, that is, if you have ever, in passing, noticed anythingâdon't look so worried, my dear, rest assured this isn't an interrogation, as I see it we are simply having an informal chat, aren't we? The head of the house sometimes needs to reassure himself that everything is going according to plan, that is all. Yes, of course, my dear, I don't doubt that if you had noticed anything ⦠Only, you see, sometimes people talk, and such gossip might reach ⦠Naturally, our family is above reproach, you needn't remind me of that, what I'm asking you, Elsa, and please consider this a friendly suggestion if you will, is to increase your vigilance and to take care that ⦠Yes, precisely. Well then, that's settled.
No sooner had Elsa stepped into the kitchen than Bertold began asking her what she had been talking about to Herr Gottlieb. Nothing in particular, she replied. Don't give me that, Bertold said, grabbing her arm, do you take me for fool? You said it, Elsa retorted, pulling her arm free, and if you don't believe me, then don't ask. Oh, pardon me! he exclaimed, Miss Elsa doesn't like to be questioned! Especially because it would mean an end to her strolls and outings to the countryside! What's coming to an end is my patience, so leave me in peace, Bertold, I have to go out to do the shopping. Did you hear that, Petra! he said, turning to the cook. Do you think it's fair her gallivanting all over the place with Fräulein Gottlieb while we rot away indoors all day? On the other side of the marble-topped table, beneath the five service bells connected to the five rooms their employers could ring from, Petra raised her head, stopped chopping tomatoes, and said: I couldn't care less what anyone does, this isn't my family, it's my job. Yes, Petra, Bertold replied, but it's still unjust! The only justice, Petra said, slicing through another tomato, would be if my daughter didn't have to peel potatoes
for a living.
for a living.
Elsa and Bertold carried on bickering as they descended the stairs. Why all the secrecy? he insisted, don't you trust me any more? I trust you as much as you trust me, she snapped. But Elsa, my sweet, he whispered, don't you remember when we used to spend the whole night together, what's the matter, why won't you tell me things any more? Yes, I remember perfectly, she replied, and that's why I prefer not to talk to you, because I know what you're like. And are they good those memories of yours? he said, clasping her waist. No worse and no better than any others, Elsa said, wriggling free. Bitch! he cried. Lackey! she retorted. I'm a lackey, said Bertold, furious, you call me a lackey when all you do is obey your mistress! You daren't even breathe without her permission! You're mistaken, as usual, she said, pausing before the front door. No, he said, I'm not mistakenâyou should be loyal to Herr Gottlieb, but instead you trot around after your little friend even though she doesn't pay our wages. I'm paid to wait on her, said Elsa, and besides, Fräulein Gottlieb isn't my friend, and she never will be. In that case why do her bidding? said Bertold. Why accompany her to that inn when you know it could bring dishonour on the Wilderhaus family and leave us all in the street? What do you do at the inn, Elsa? Why won't you tell me what Herr Gottlieb said to you? Aha, she chuckled, so that's it, you're worried about the honour of the Wilderhaus family! I can see where your loyalties lie! What are you hoping for, you fool, that he'll give you a job as butler, or present you with a carriage, perhaps? I'm saving up, said Bertold, what's wrong with that? Nothing, said Elsa, I'm saving up, too. Look, he said, try to understand, Elsa, I need more money, and if the wedding falls through then I'm off, I want a better life, I don't know, to open my own shop. I understand perfectly, she said, you're the one who doesn't understand, I also want to do better for myself, to get married. Is that what
you're saving up for? he asked, narrowing his eyes, displaying his scar. Maybe I am and maybe I'm not, Elsa said opening the front door. Who is he, tell me? demanded Bertold. No one, she said stepping outside. Wait, Elsa! he shouted after her, Wait, come back here! You never tell me anything! Bitch! And for your information, I don't remember our nights together either!
you're saving up for? he asked, narrowing his eyes, displaying his scar. Maybe I am and maybe I'm not, Elsa said opening the front door. Who is he, tell me? demanded Bertold. No one, she said stepping outside. Wait, Elsa! he shouted after her, Wait, come back here! You never tell me anything! Bitch! And for your information, I don't remember our nights together either!
Â
The sacristan found Father Pigherzog eating a leg of cold chicken and drinking the altar wine. Father, he said awkwardly, it's nearly time. Yes, yes, the priest said with his mouth full, I'll be with you in a minute. Forgive me, Father, the sacristan said hesitantly, shouldn't we be fasting? Ha! Father Pigherzog licked his lips. You still have much to learn about doctrine! Tell me, didn't the apostles receive Communion from Christ himself after a big supper? Hadn't they sated themselves with food and wine? Do you believe a genuinely pure spirit is determined by a mouthful more or less of food? Do we not partake of Christ's flesh when we eat the bread at any feast? The sacristan stammered an apology and began laying out the alb and the amice. Wait, my son, said Father Pigherzog, come here and wash my fingers, please.
Frau Pietzine leant forward and put her lips close to the grille in the confessional. Her rosary swung out from her chest and rattled against the partition.
Beloved Father, she murmured, it's a good thing you received me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, it's been too long since my last confession and I have to commune tomorrow, immediately, as soon as possible. Daughter, Father Pigherzog's voice said on the other side of the grille, I'm not the only priest to whom you can confess, if you were in such a hurry there is always Father Kleist. Oh no, Father, never! Frau Pietzine insisted. Very well, daughter, very well, Father Pigherzog said, trying not to sound smug, I am at your service.
Frau Pietzine confessed for twenty minutes, continually
gasping and covering her mouth with her fan. Father Pigherzog remained silent, although from time to time he could be heard fidgeting in his seat and breathing in a slightly laboured manner. When Frau Pietzine had finished, the priest took a deep breath and said: I can see how greatly you suffer, daughter. And you are of course right to confess with such fervour, for it calms the soul. However, we must endeavour not to fall into immoderation when confessing. It is also necessary to make room for atonement, in order to arouse our feeling of guilt and to offer our tears to Jesus. (I will, I will, I will, Frau Pietzine said contritely.) I absolve you, daughterâfollow this instruction and say ten Our Fathers and six Hail Marys. (Amen, amen, amen, she agreed.) Now listen, daughter, there is another small matter to which I wish to draw your attention (I'm all ears, Father), and this is nothing other than the somewhat ostentatious dresses you have begun to wear, even though you ought still to be in semi-mourning. (Father, Frau Pietzine said, pulling up her décolletage, my husband passed away more than five years ago!) Five years ago, indeed, and what is five years, daughter, compared to a whole marriage? Compared to the vicissitudes of eternal life your deceased husband is currently experiencing? Five years, you sayâis not death eternally present in our lives? (You are right, you are right, you are right, but, please, try to understand, I implore youâit may sound frivolous, but clothes are a solace to me, one of my few amusements, I purchase fabrics, choose colours and styles, yet I am constantly grieving, if not I wouldn't need to distract myself with such trifles.) I understand, daughter, but that doesn't mean I approve, these dresses, are, well, they are ⦠(Tell me, Father, with all due respect to your holy condition, have you never been tempted to try on new clothes? A suit? The odd overcoat?) Me? Never, daughter. What fancies. I was very young when I was ordained and have always felt
quite at home in a humble habit.
gasping and covering her mouth with her fan. Father Pigherzog remained silent, although from time to time he could be heard fidgeting in his seat and breathing in a slightly laboured manner. When Frau Pietzine had finished, the priest took a deep breath and said: I can see how greatly you suffer, daughter. And you are of course right to confess with such fervour, for it calms the soul. However, we must endeavour not to fall into immoderation when confessing. It is also necessary to make room for atonement, in order to arouse our feeling of guilt and to offer our tears to Jesus. (I will, I will, I will, Frau Pietzine said contritely.) I absolve you, daughterâfollow this instruction and say ten Our Fathers and six Hail Marys. (Amen, amen, amen, she agreed.) Now listen, daughter, there is another small matter to which I wish to draw your attention (I'm all ears, Father), and this is nothing other than the somewhat ostentatious dresses you have begun to wear, even though you ought still to be in semi-mourning. (Father, Frau Pietzine said, pulling up her décolletage, my husband passed away more than five years ago!) Five years ago, indeed, and what is five years, daughter, compared to a whole marriage? Compared to the vicissitudes of eternal life your deceased husband is currently experiencing? Five years, you sayâis not death eternally present in our lives? (You are right, you are right, you are right, but, please, try to understand, I implore youâit may sound frivolous, but clothes are a solace to me, one of my few amusements, I purchase fabrics, choose colours and styles, yet I am constantly grieving, if not I wouldn't need to distract myself with such trifles.) I understand, daughter, but that doesn't mean I approve, these dresses, are, well, they are ⦠(Tell me, Father, with all due respect to your holy condition, have you never been tempted to try on new clothes? A suit? The odd overcoat?) Me? Never, daughter. What fancies. I was very young when I was ordained and have always felt
quite at home in a humble habit.
Seeing her agitated state, Father Pigherzog considered it best to administer Holy Communion to Frau Pietzine there and then, outside of Mass. He summoned the altar boy and asked him to prepare the altar.
⦠in so far as her will to repent is still weaker than her devotion. Having warned her about the lack of moderation of her attire, the aforementioned Frau H J Pietzine showed a degree of obstinacy that bears out our negative prognostications. In addition, she would be well advised to forgo reading sacrilegious tales of Knights Templar and to concentrate on more pious texts. Insist more upon this point.
Â
Â
⦠turning finally to set before Your Excellency, whose hands I kiss most fervently and whose loyal servant I remain, the state of the quarterly accounts for the lands rented on behalf of the church. In general terms, after a meticulous examination of contributions made during the second quarter, we are able to confirm with comparative regret that the tendency to growth in the Holy Easter period failed to continue through to the end of spring. I say with comparative regret, because, even as we continue to suffer from the shortages, of which Your Excellency has already been made aware, the news is perhaps not all bad, for thanks to the assistance of Our Lord, the provider of all things, and xxxxx xxxxx perhaps also in an infinitesimal way to our own humble work, I am pleased to inform Your Excellency that the collection for Sunday Mass has almost reached ten groschenâonly two less than the average number of thalers at the end of the previous quarter.
What are we translating today? Sophie asked as she got dressed. Ah, Mademoiselle Gottlieb, Hans replied, buttoning up his shirt,
nous avons de bonnes choses aujourd'hui
! But first let me show you something, come here.
nous avons de bonnes choses aujourd'hui
! But first let me show you something, come here.
Hans crouched beside his trunk. He rummaged around in it and pulled out a few old editions of the magazines
Frankreich
and
Deutschland
which he handed Sophie. Where did you get these? she asked, surprised. Truthfully? he grinned. From the public library. What! cried Sophie. You didn't! I did, I stole them, Hans confessed, I know it's wrong, but I couldn't help myself. Hans ⦠she chided him. But no one ever reads them, he excused himself, clasping her round the waist, on the contrary, they're frowned upon nowadays for promoting Franco-German dialogue, I was amazed when I found them, believe me, it'll be fifty years before anyone notices they're missing. Thief, Sophie growled, letting him embrace her. No, said Hans, not a thief, a collector!
Frankreich
and
Deutschland
which he handed Sophie. Where did you get these? she asked, surprised. Truthfully? he grinned. From the public library. What! cried Sophie. You didn't! I did, I stole them, Hans confessed, I know it's wrong, but I couldn't help myself. Hans ⦠she chided him. But no one ever reads them, he excused himself, clasping her round the waist, on the contrary, they're frowned upon nowadays for promoting Franco-German dialogue, I was amazed when I found them, believe me, it'll be fifty years before anyone notices they're missing. Thief, Sophie growled, letting him embrace her. No, said Hans, not a thief, a collector!
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