Der Wunsch. English

by Hermann Sudermann

  I.

  In the old doctor's bedroom a cheerful fire was flickering. He himselfstill lay a-bed, quite penetrated by the delightful sensation of a manwho knows his life's work is completed. When one has been sitting halfa century through, for twelve long hours every day, in the rumblingconveyance of a country doctor, thumped and bumped along over stonesand lumps of clay, one may now and again lie in bed till daylight,especially when one knows one's work is safe in younger hands.

  He stretched and straightened his stiff old limbs, and once more buriedin the pillows his weather-beaten, yellowish-grey face, covered withwhite stubble like granite with Iceland moss. But habit, that austeremistress, who had for so many years driven him forth from his bedbefore dawn, whether it was necessary or not, would not let him resteven now.

  He sighed, he yawned, he abused his laziness, and then reached for thebell standing on the little table at his bedside.

  His housekeeper, an equally grey, tumble-down specimen of humanity,appeared on the threshold.

  "What time is it, Frau Liebetreu?" he called out to her.

  Since the day on which the young assistant arrived in Gromowo, the oldBlack Forest clock hanging at the doctor's bedside, and whose rattlingalarum had often unpleasantly jarred upon his morning slumbers, was nolonger wound up. "So that I know that my life too henceforth standsstill," as he was wont to say.

  "A quarter to eight, doctor," the old woman answered, beginningmeanwhile to busy herself about the stove.

  "For shame! for shame!" cried he, raising himself up, "what a lazybonesI am getting to be! I say, have any letters come?"

  "Yes, a few by post, and one that young Mr. Hellinger brought himselftwo hours ago."

  "Two hours ago! Why, it was dark yet at that time!"

  "Yes; he said he had to drive out to the manor farm, and could wait nolonger. Yesterday evening, too, when you were at the 'Black Eagle,'sir, he called, and sat here for about two hours."

  "Why didn't you send for me?" cried the doctor, in the blustering toneof voice of old, good-natured grumblers.

  "Well, and hadn't he forbidden us to do so?" cried his housekeeper, inexactly the same tone of voice, which seemed, however, more an echo ofher master's manner than personal defiance. "He was sitting in thestudy till ten o'clock--or rather he was not sitting, he raced aboutlike a madman, and laughed and talked to himself--I hardly knew thecalm, quiet man again; and then I brought him beer--six bottles--hedrained them all; and I had to drink with him. As I tell you, he wasquite beside himself."

  "Ah, indeed, indeed," muttered the old man smiling to himself withsatisfaction. "I should say Olga had something to do with that. Perhapsafter all she----. Well, do you intend bringing me my letters to-day,or not?" he suddenly shouted, as if he were goodness knows how wild,but his face laughed the while. And when his housekeeper hadgrumblingly done his bidding, he drew out with a sure hand from thelittle heap of letters one without a stamp, not deigning to look at theothers at all. His hands trembled with happy excitement as he unfoldedthe paper; and he read, while his grey face beamed with pleasure:

  "Dear old Uncle,--You shall be the first to know it. If only I had youwith me, that I might press your dear old hands and tell you face toface what is in my heart! I do not realise it yet--my head whirls whenI think of it! Uncle, you were at my side in the days of darkesttrouble, helping and protecting. You were the only one to take Martha'spart when all--even my parents turned their backs on her with coldnessand suspicion.

  "You could not save her for me, uncle--the Lord asked her back of me.But when, at the bedside of my dead wife, my reason threatened to giveway, you took my poor head between your hands and spoke to me--as apreacher speaks. And you were right. Of course I do not believe that Ican ever quite revive and become again as I was before the cares ofexistence and my longing for Martha made my head dull and heavy; foreven Martha--even my wife--could not accomplish that in the three yearsof our quiet happiness. But life seems about to give me whatever it hasleft for me yet of joy and peace. You know, uncle, how in the midst ofmy sorrow for my dead wife, I learnt to love her sister. Cousin Olga,more and more. I confessed all to you, and sought comfort with you whentortured by self-reproach at the thought that I was breaking my trothto my wife already in the year of mourning. And you said to me at thattime: 'If the dead woman might seek a second mother for her child, whomelse would she choose but the sister whom, next to you, she loved bestin the world?' I was startled to the very depths of my soul, for Ishould never have dared to raise my eyes to her. But you never ceasedto encourage me, until, a week ago, I took heart and begged her toshare my fortunes.

  "You know she refused me.

  "She grew deathly pale--then gave me her hand, and standing up rigidlysaid to me: 'Put it from your thoughts, Robert, for I can never be yourwife.' Then I slunk away, and thought to myself, 'It serves you rightfor your presumption.' And now, to-day----. Uncle, I cannot put it onpaper!--my hand fails me. This happiness is too great--it came sounexpectedly, it almost overpowers me! To-morrow, uncle--to-morrow Iwill tell you all.

  "I have to go out early to the manor farm. At mid-day I shall return,and then forthwith shall undertake the dreaded visit to my parents. Mymother suspects nothing as yet. Her plans have once again beenfrustrated, and Olga will have to suffer heavily enough for it. I fearshe may even turn her out of the house. If only I had her already undermy own roof!

  "It is three o'clock in the morning. Enough for to-day. Your gratefuland happy

  "Robert Hellinger."

  The old doctor wiped a tear from his cheek.

  "The dear boy," he murmured. "How his emotions crowd each other in hisover-heated brain; and how simple, how honest everything is to the lastjot! In truth, he deserves you, my brave, proud girl; he is the onlyone to whom I do not grudge you. And now I will put you to the test,and see if you too put confidence in your old uncle. Straightway I willdo it."

  Laughing and growling he burrowed with his head in the pillows. Andthen he suddenly shouted with a voice resounding through the house likethunder:

  "Confound it, where are my trousers?"

  The trousers were brought, and five minutes later the old man stoodquite ready before his glass, all except his greyish-yellow wig.

  "My hat, cloak, stick!" he shouted out into the corridor.

  "But the breakfast," the old woman shouted back, if possible louderstill, from the kitchen.

  "Well, then, hurry up," he blustered. "Before I have read these lettersI must have it here."

  With an impatient oath he set to work upon the little heap that had sofar been lying unnoticed on the pedestal. Offers of wine--profitableinvestments--a poor, blind father with a new-born infant--and thensuddenly he stopped short, while once more a satisfied smile overspreadhis features.

  "Upon my word! I should not have expected this," he growled,contentedly. "She, too, could not rest without confiding her happinessto her old uncle. That is nice of you, children! You shall have yourreward for this."

  With the same happy haste with which he had opened Hellinger's letter,he tore this envelope asunder.

  But hardly had he commenced reading when with a low moaning cry hestaggered back two paces, like one who has been dealt a treacherousblow. His grey face became ashy pale; his eyes started from theirsockets, and like claws his old withered fingers clutched thefluttering paper.

  When his housekeeper brought in the coffee, she found her mastersitting as stiff as a log in the corner of the sofa, his foreheadcovered with great drops of perspiration, and staring with fixedlustreless eyes at the paper which his hands still held as if in acramp.

  "Gracious heavens, doctor!" she cried, and let the tray drop clatteringon to the table. Her lamentations brought him back to consciousness. Heasked for water, and drank two long eager draughts, wetted his foreheadand temples with the remainder, and signed to his housekeeper to leavehim.

  Hereupon he bolted the door, picked up the
letter from the floor, andread with trembling, choking voice:

  "My dear, my Fatherly Friend,--When you read these lines I shall haveceased to live. The draughts of morphium which you gave me when I hadforgotten how to sleep after Martha's death were carefully collectedand kept by me; I trust they will be powerful enough to give me peace.

  "You who have watched over me like a second father, you shall be theonly one to learn why I have decided to take this terrible step. Inlong winter nights, when the storm shook my gable-roof and I could notsleep, I wrote down everything that has been tormenting me for so long,and will not let me be at rest till I fall asleep for ever. On mybookshelf, hidden behind some volumes of Heine, you will find a blueexercise-book. Take it with you, without letting the others notice. Andwhen you have read all, go out to my grave and there say a prayer formy soul.

  "See that I am laid to rest at Martha's side.

  "I loved her dearly. It is she who is calling me to her.

  "You will understand all when you have read my story. Perhaps you knowmore of my secret than I suspect. I suppose I must have spoken evilwords during the delirium of my illness, else why should you have sentaway my relations from my bedside?

  "Did you shudder at the things that my wretched tongue brought tolight?

  "Do you pity me? Do you despise me? No, surely you do not despise me;or how could you have bestowed so much love upon me? And now read.Everything is set down there. It was not originally intended for you. Imeant to send it after many years--when we young ones too should havegrown old--to the man to whom my whole being belongs, so that he mightknow why I once denied myself to him.

  "Things have gone differently. To-day, in a moment of forgetfulness, Ithrew myself upon his neck. Too late I comprehended that now escapefrom him was no longer possible. But, rather than be his, I will seekdeath.

  "And I have yet another request in my heart. It is the request of oneabout to die--if you can, I know you will fulfil it.

  "Keep secret from the world, and especially from the man I love, that Itook my own life. Let him believe that my happiness killed me. I shalldestroy everything that might point to suicide; there will only beindications that I died of syncope or apoplexy.

  "From the depths of my heart I implore you to grant me this one lastfavour. I die gladly and have no fear. It is so long since I sleptwell, that I have need of rest.

  "Olga Bremer."

  The old man felt himself in a state of utter helplessness.

  He staggered, clenched his fists, beat his brow, and then once more hefell back in his chair.

  "This is madness, utter madness," he groaned, wiping the coldperspiration from his forehead. "Child, what were you thinking of? Whatcould cloud your reason like this? My poor, poor, darling child?"

  Then he once more jumped up and groped with trembling fingers for hishat and cloak.

  "To help! To help!" He must wrest this victim even yet from death'shand! That was what absorbed his whole mind at present. For a momentthe thought came to him that perhaps after all she had not carried outher serious intention, but he dismissed it forthwith. He must have hada different knowledge of her character, to credit her with a feeling offear or a failing of energy.

  But possibly the dose she had taken was too small, perhaps thelong period of time--for it was more than a year since Marthadied in child-bed, and it was then he had given her the sleepingdraughts--perhaps the long period of time that had elapsed since thenhad weakened the efficacy of the poison. Yes, yes, it was so; it mustbe so! When badly preserved, morphia decomposes and becomesineffectual.

  So forward to the rescue! To save what can be saved!

  He ran about the room in search of something: he hardly knew what hewas seeking. Then once more he grasped the letter.

  "And what do you ask of me? Child, child, do you think it is such alight matter to perjure one's self? To throw aside like rotten eggs theduties to which one has been faithful for half a century? Child, you donot realise what you are asking of an honest man!" He Held the paper upclose to his eyes, and once more read the passage: "It is the requestof one about to die.... From the depths of my heart I implore you togrant me this one last favour."

  Heavy tears rolled down his weather-beaten cheeks.

  "It cannot be, child, it cannot be done, however well you may know howto plead. And even if I wished to do it, I should betray myself. I aman old, weak wreck; I no longer have such control over my features.They would notice it at the first glance. But so that you may not haveasked it--of your old uncle--in vain--I will--at least attempt it--foryour own sake and Robert's sake you must first of all be saved.Confound it all, old fellow, for once more in your life be a man youmust save her--you must--must--must!"

  And as quickly as his stiff old legs would carry him, he rushedout--past his housekeeper, who stood listening at the keyhole--out intothe wintry morning air which a cold drizzling mist filled with damp,prickling crystals.