Read Traveler of the Century Online
Authors: Andrés Neuman
Traveler of the Century (65 page)
It's as if I'd been exiled twice, Ãlvaro said, staring into his tankard, first when I arrived here and then when I stayed on. That's how I feel, Hans, what more can I say?
Prost! Y salud
.
Prost! Y salud
.
According to what Ãlvaro had just discovered, the Wandernburg authorities were trying to persuade Herr Gelding and his associates to consider changing their textile wholesaler. Herr Gelding had dismissed the idea, for the time being. Not out of loyalty to Ãlvaro, but because so long as their balance sheets continued to be extremely satisfactory, he saw no reason to alter their business arrangement. Apparently, an increasing number of voices within the town hall were, more or less overtly, beginning to make suggestions to anyone related to the textile mill. The more enthusiastic councillors referred to the initiative as “strategic action against ideological incompatibilities”. Mayor Ratztrinker called it the “restoration of managerial cordiality”. Herr Gelding preferred to call it “the boys getting in a strop”.
Why don't you go back to London? asked Hans, clinking tankards with Ãlvaro. This is my home, replied Ãlvaro, and besides, I refuse to leave anywhere again because someone wishes to throw me out. But what if you went of your own accord, said Hans, wouldn't you be better off over there? Probably, Ãlvaro sighed, who doesn't want to live in London? The problem is this city, this damned city, I can't explain. One day I'll clear off.
It was past midnight. The chairs were resting upside down on the tables. At one half of the bar, a few locals drank up while a waiter wiped down the other half with a soiled cloth. Look at the paintings of the Congress of Vienna and what do you see? The same old thing! A group of stout gentlemen determining Europe's fate! Bureaucratic buffoons convening in order to stuff themselves silly and fix a date for the next meeting! A legion
of noblemen admiring each other's rings while they sign in the name of their people! Crossing their flabby legs, buffing their shoes on the backs of their calves, and examining their neighbours' bellies as they belch discreetly! Hey, Hans said, pealing with laughter, you're worse than Goya. Amen! belched Ãlvaro.
of noblemen admiring each other's rings while they sign in the name of their people! Crossing their flabby legs, buffing their shoes on the backs of their calves, and examining their neighbours' bellies as they belch discreetly! Hey, Hans said, pealing with laughter, you're worse than Goya. Amen! belched Ãlvaro.
Mark my words, said Ãlvaro, stumbling through the tavern door, something's going to happen here, it has to happen. Here wh-where? Hans stammered. You mean in the tavern? No, of course not! replied Ãlvaro. Here in Europe! Look out for the door, Hans said, grabbing his arm. Look out, Europe! Ãlvaro shouted, charging into the street. Hey, I'm fa-falling, said Hans. Europe could fall! She should hold on,
cojones
! cried Ãlvaro. Co-come on, Hans gasped, it's this way, Ãlvaro, you're tw-twisting my arm. Where are you going? said Ãlvaro, confused. Let's go and see the old man, Hans suggested. Now? said Ãlvaro, isn't it a bit far? N-nonsense, replied Hans, places are neither near nor far, it's all re-relative, if we st-start walking now we'll be there in no time, come on, follow me, what are you doing? Don't sit down, give me your arm, ge-get up.
cojones
! cried Ãlvaro. Co-come on, Hans gasped, it's this way, Ãlvaro, you're tw-twisting my arm. Where are you going? said Ãlvaro, confused. Let's go and see the old man, Hans suggested. Now? said Ãlvaro, isn't it a bit far? N-nonsense, replied Hans, places are neither near nor far, it's all re-relative, if we st-start walking now we'll be there in no time, come on, follow me, what are you doing? Don't sit down, give me your arm, ge-get up.
Ãlvaro didn't reply. His face was buried in his hands, his shoulders were rising and falling.
Â
All Souls' Day began on a harsh note, with gusts of wind that bent the branches of the trees as if to give them a fright. The sky was filled with leaden clouds. A smell of snow permeated the air. The cobbles were slippery underfoot, sprinkled with some murky substance. The horses whinnied more loudly than usual. The market square had filled up with shadows that passed one another in silence. At the top of the tower, the clock hands seemed weighed down by a pulley. The weathervane creaked erratically. The parishioners who had just left afternoon Mass walked along, backs to the square, heads lowered.
That afternoon Hans had gone out for a stroll, less for pleasure
than because he felt restlessâhe had been trying to concentrate for hours, unable to translate a single sentence. His brain was a dicebox in which images, fears and the roots of words were being jiggled about. He was fretting over the difficulty of the text, the situation with Sophie and the organ grinder's health. He followed the stream of people climbing the Hill of Sighs until he found himself opposite the railings of Wandernburg Cemeteryâa place he had never visited. He contemplated the sea of black headscarves, the long flowing coats, the lowered veils, the felt hats pulled down, the dark armbands, the shoes submerged in their own blackness and the rebellious contrast of floral offerings. Where did all these people come from? Why were Wandernburg's streets even more crowded on All Souls' Day than they were in spring?
than because he felt restlessâhe had been trying to concentrate for hours, unable to translate a single sentence. His brain was a dicebox in which images, fears and the roots of words were being jiggled about. He was fretting over the difficulty of the text, the situation with Sophie and the organ grinder's health. He followed the stream of people climbing the Hill of Sighs until he found himself opposite the railings of Wandernburg Cemeteryâa place he had never visited. He contemplated the sea of black headscarves, the long flowing coats, the lowered veils, the felt hats pulled down, the dark armbands, the shoes submerged in their own blackness and the rebellious contrast of floral offerings. Where did all these people come from? Why were Wandernburg's streets even more crowded on All Souls' Day than they were in spring?
At the entrance, a shabby beggar sat slumped against the wall. As they passed, the visitors stretched out their arms and dropped a few coins into his lap before hurrying on. This was the only day in the year when the beggar didn't need to speak to or look at his benefactors. He simply accepted their charity, eyelids half-closed, almost with indifference. Mourners are generous, reflected Hansâthey hope to buy a little more time. Hans began rummaging through his pockets in front of the bundle of rags. It opened its eyes and grunted: How's the patient? Who, me? Hans started, I'm in perfect health, thank you, how about you? No, the beggar replied shaking his head irritated, not you, the organ grinder, is he any better? Ah, Hans said, surprised, well, sort of. When you see him, the beggar said, tell him his friend Olaf is waiting for him, don't forget, will you? Olaf from the square. Now move along, please, you're getting in the way of my customers.
Hans noticed that no one, absolutely no one in the whole of Wandernburg Cemetery allowed a hint of a smile to cross their faces, not even when they greeted one another. He found such
consensus incredible. In a place like that, wasn't it as reasonable to weep or to laugh aloud out of pure astonishment, to laugh at the absurdity, the miracle of being alive? But those gathered there acted as if they were standing in front of mirrors rather than tombstones. Veils raised, the widows displayed their sorrow and practised the various overtures to falling into a faint. The men vigorously shook their umbrellas, flexed their shoulders, clenched their jaws. Fascinated by this spectacle, the children copied their parents as closely as they could. Each time a sob rang out, another louder one next to it ensued. Suddenly, amid the figures dressed in black, Hans made out Frau Pietzine's puffy, painted face. Seeing her entranced, busy murmuring her laments and dabbing her eyes beneath her veil, he did not dare disturb her, and walked on by.
consensus incredible. In a place like that, wasn't it as reasonable to weep or to laugh aloud out of pure astonishment, to laugh at the absurdity, the miracle of being alive? But those gathered there acted as if they were standing in front of mirrors rather than tombstones. Veils raised, the widows displayed their sorrow and practised the various overtures to falling into a faint. The men vigorously shook their umbrellas, flexed their shoulders, clenched their jaws. Fascinated by this spectacle, the children copied their parents as closely as they could. Each time a sob rang out, another louder one next to it ensued. Suddenly, amid the figures dressed in black, Hans made out Frau Pietzine's puffy, painted face. Seeing her entranced, busy murmuring her laments and dabbing her eyes beneath her veil, he did not dare disturb her, and walked on by.
Farther along the path, he stumbled on a strange sightâon an isolated knoll a man was dancing silently, eyes closed, around a grave bedecked with chrysanthemums. The dance was serene, old-fashioned. The painful memories etched onto the man's face were overlaid with an expression of profound gratitude. Hans walked away thinking his grief was perhaps the most genuine of all those he had witnessed.
Near the exit, as he was reading some of the names and dates on the tombstones, Hans almost tripped and fell onto a grave whose edges were concealed by weeds. A voice behind him cried out as if from nowhere: “Hey, careful with my lads.” It was the gravedigger. Hans wheeled round and gazed at him curiously. He was surprised by his youth (why do we imagine gravediggers to be old?) and relative cheerfulness. A lot of work? Hans said, just for something to say. Don't you believe it, replied the gravedigger, it's the living that give us all the work. My ladsâas I like to call them on account of it makes me more attached to them, see?âthey don't give me much trouble, ha, ha! Forgive me for asking, said Hans. (No need to
apologise, the gravedigger declared, am I that scary looking?) Of course, sorry, I mean, this is my first visit to the cemetery and I wondered whether many people come on normal days. Many, you say? the gravedigger laughed. No one comes! No one at all! People only come here once a year, on All Souls' Day. Well, said Hans, clapping him on the back (an amazingly firm back, hard as wood), I must be going, it's been a pleasure, good luck. Thanks, likewise, replied the gravedigger, if you ever need me you know where to find me. I hope I shan't be needing you, said Hans, no offence. It's only a question of time, ha, ha! The gravedigger raised his arm and waved goodbye.
apologise, the gravedigger declared, am I that scary looking?) Of course, sorry, I mean, this is my first visit to the cemetery and I wondered whether many people come on normal days. Many, you say? the gravedigger laughed. No one comes! No one at all! People only come here once a year, on All Souls' Day. Well, said Hans, clapping him on the back (an amazingly firm back, hard as wood), I must be going, it's been a pleasure, good luck. Thanks, likewise, replied the gravedigger, if you ever need me you know where to find me. I hope I shan't be needing you, said Hans, no offence. It's only a question of time, ha, ha! The gravedigger raised his arm and waved goodbye.
The first thing Hans glimpsed through the railings was not Mayor Ratztrinker's exaggeratedly large hat, nor his fine silk socks, nor his velvet frock coat, it was his beak-like nose as he climbed out of his carriage. While the mayor's whiskers ventured into the open air, a servant folded back the hood. No sooner had His Excellency's foot touched the ground than a second servant handed him a wreath; the mayor clasped onto it as he would a funereal life belt. The cortège advanced slowly, accepting peoples' greetings. When they walked past Olaf, Mayor Ratztrinker gave one of the servants a sidelong glance, at which the servant showered the beggar with coins. Good afternoon, Your Excellency, Hans murmured as he passed him on the way out. The mayor stopped, handed the wreath to a servant, and doffed his hat, pausing a moment before returning the greeting. This struck Hans as suspicious. They exchanged pleasantries, remarked on the worsening weather, and before saying goodbye Mayor Ratztrinker took a step forward. He looked Hans up and down, gestured to his beret and said nonchalantly: Jacobins aren't welcome in Wandernburg. Neither are adulterers. Imagine what we think of Jacobin adulterers? The police, quite naturally, are concerned. Good afternoon.
He arrived at the cave as night fell. The organ grinder was
talking to Lamberg, who had brought him some supper. Hans sat down on a rock and patted Franz's side. You've arrived,
kof
, just in time, I was telling Lamberg about my dream last night. (And how are you feeling? asked Hans.) Me?â
kof
âfine, just fine, you sound like a mother! But listen, I dreamt,
kof
, I was alone in the woods and I was very cold, like I hadn't a stitch on, and then I began,
kof
, to shiver, and the more I shivered the more I sweatedâfunny, isn't it?âonly instead of droplets,
kof,
instead of droplets of sweat, my body gave off sounds, you know? Like notes, and the breeze carried them through the woods,
kof
, and they started to sound familiar, and I went on shivering and giving off sounds until,
kof
, I began to recognise the tune coming from my body, and at that moment I woke up (because of the dream? asked Lamberg), no, no,
kof
, because I was hungry!
talking to Lamberg, who had brought him some supper. Hans sat down on a rock and patted Franz's side. You've arrived,
kof
, just in time, I was telling Lamberg about my dream last night. (And how are you feeling? asked Hans.) Me?â
kof
âfine, just fine, you sound like a mother! But listen, I dreamt,
kof
, I was alone in the woods and I was very cold, like I hadn't a stitch on, and then I began,
kof
, to shiver, and the more I shivered the more I sweatedâfunny, isn't it?âonly instead of droplets,
kof,
instead of droplets of sweat, my body gave off sounds, you know? Like notes, and the breeze carried them through the woods,
kof
, and they started to sound familiar, and I went on shivering and giving off sounds until,
kof
, I began to recognise the tune coming from my body, and at that moment I woke up (because of the dream? asked Lamberg), no, no,
kof
, because I was hungry!
Hans burst out laughing. Then he grew very serious. The organ grinder stretched out his bony arm, beckoning him to come near, and asked cheerily: How is Olaf?
Â
No, child, no, Father Pigherzog whispered into her ear as the bell in the round tower rattled out the midday chimes with a clang like coins dropping into the collection plate, calm yourself, child, in spite of everything it is best you tell no one,
nemo infirmitatis animi immunis
, I sympathise, we spoke about this the other day, do you remember? Yet no matter how great your suffering only you can free yourself from it, that is what makes us worthy of the Lord, the power to transform evil into good, and to forgive, of course not, my child, I am not saying the Lord wishes you to suffer so much, but that He wants you to love once your suffering is over, so that your reward will be much greater. That is why, my child, you must tell no one about what happened to you.
nemo infirmitatis animi immunis
, I sympathise, we spoke about this the other day, do you remember? Yet no matter how great your suffering only you can free yourself from it, that is what makes us worthy of the Lord, the power to transform evil into good, and to forgive, of course not, my child, I am not saying the Lord wishes you to suffer so much, but that He wants you to love once your suffering is over, so that your reward will be much greater. That is why, my child, you must tell no one about what happened to you.
At the foot of the other tower, the pointed one, Frau Levin and
Sophie were moving their lips, nodding their heads, shrugging their shoulders, warding off the cold wind and clutching their hats. A few yards away, Mayor Ratztrinker and Herr Gottlieb removed their hats, although in the gloomy afternoon daylight it might, from a distance, have seemed as if they were doing the oppositeâtaking off the heads of their respective hats. After the farewells, His Excellency's last words hung thickly in the air, climbed the cracks in the tower, scaled the damp steps of autumn, edged between the flat clouds, dissolved little by little: “⦠and I'll say it again, Fräulein, you look positively radiant, there's nothing like a wedding to enhance a woman's beauty!”
Sophie were moving their lips, nodding their heads, shrugging their shoulders, warding off the cold wind and clutching their hats. A few yards away, Mayor Ratztrinker and Herr Gottlieb removed their hats, although in the gloomy afternoon daylight it might, from a distance, have seemed as if they were doing the oppositeâtaking off the heads of their respective hats. After the farewells, His Excellency's last words hung thickly in the air, climbed the cracks in the tower, scaled the damp steps of autumn, edged between the flat clouds, dissolved little by little: “⦠and I'll say it again, Fräulein, you look positively radiant, there's nothing like a wedding to enhance a woman's beauty!”
Although it had lasted a matter of seconds, Frau Levin felt positively exalted by the mayor's greeting. The Gottliebs' presence had no doubt been a determining factor. Even so, this was the first time the mayor had deigned to address her, to utter her name. To acknowledge her as a respectable citizen and to accept her, finally, as a good Christian. For this reason, she was more determined than ever to do what she was about to do. What a neighbour of hers, who was a policeman, had been urging her to do for some time. Frau Levin waited for a group of carriages to pass before crossing Archway. She must hurry. In an hour's time she had to serve her husband lunch; he continued stubbornly to refuse to attend Mass, and she had been forced to lie to him in order to be able to go home later. Lying to her husband terrified herâshe always had the impression he knew. But besides fear, that morning she felt the excitement of being useful, of really being useful to the authorities. Frau Levin glanced behind her, from side to side, making sure no one was watching her. She quickened her pace. She walked towards Spur Street. She was more determined now than ever.
Aha, the Chief Superintendent's teeth clacked. Are you taking note, sergeant? Carry on.
The words began to spill from Frau Levin's lips. She was
scarcely able to pause, to emerge from her trance when the Chief Superintendent rearranged his denture ready to pose another question. Some questions were easy to answer: Herr Hans's profession, Herr Hans's political leanings, Herr Hans's friends, arrival of books at Herr Hans's lodgings, Herr Hans's everyday habits, Herr Hans's dubious patriotism. Others were a little more tricky or ambiguous. And yet Frau Levin answered them without hesitation, supplying a wealth of detail, embellishing what she knew and inventing what she did not. After all she wasn't doing this only for herselfâalthough he didn't know it, she was also doing it for the sake of her husband. Perhaps one day His Excellency the mayor would greet him, too.
scarcely able to pause, to emerge from her trance when the Chief Superintendent rearranged his denture ready to pose another question. Some questions were easy to answer: Herr Hans's profession, Herr Hans's political leanings, Herr Hans's friends, arrival of books at Herr Hans's lodgings, Herr Hans's everyday habits, Herr Hans's dubious patriotism. Others were a little more tricky or ambiguous. And yet Frau Levin answered them without hesitation, supplying a wealth of detail, embellishing what she knew and inventing what she did not. After all she wasn't doing this only for herselfâalthough he didn't know it, she was also doing it for the sake of her husband. Perhaps one day His Excellency the mayor would greet him, too.
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