Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune (14 page)

“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.

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 through 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.

“Well hello,” he cried in the doorway. “The
Sergeant-major was right. Back so soon brother? Then come on down
the hall. The cavalry captain has a game going.”

Frank Braun didn’t move, scarcely heard what
the other was saying. The doctor grabbed his shoulder and shook it
heartily.

“Don’t just sit there like a log. Come
on!”

Frank Braun sprang up swinging something else
high as well. It was the chair that he had grabbed.

He moved a step closer, “Get out.” he hissed,
“Get out, you scoundrel!”

Dr. Klaverjahn looked at him standing there
in front of him. He looked into the pale, distorted face, the
intent threatening eyes. It awoke the medical professional that was
still in him and he recognized the condition instantly.

“So that’s how it is,” he said
quietly–“Please excuse me.”–

Then he left.

Frank Braun stood for awhile with the chair
in his hand. A cold laugh hung on his lips but he was thinking of
nothing, nothing at all. He heard a knock at the door, heard it
like it was far off in the distance. When he looked up–the little
ensign was standing in front of him.

“You are back again, what happened?” He asked
and startled a bit when the other didn’t answer.

Then he ran out and came back with a glass
and a bottle of Bordeaux.

“Drink, it will be good for you.”

Frank Braun drank. He felt how the wine made
his pulse race, felt how his legs trembled, threatening to buckle
underneath him. He let himself fall heavily onto the bed.