by Stefan Zweig
I staggered away. I prowled around the house for an hour, possessed by the insane hope that she might perhaps come looking for me. Only then did I book into the hotel on the beach and went to my room with two bottles of whisky which, with a double dose of veronal, helped to calm me. At last I fell asleep … and that dull, troubled sleep was the only momentary respite in my race between life and death.”
The ship’s bell sounded. Two hard, full strokes that vibrated on, trembling, in the soft pool of near-motionless air and then ebbed away in the quiet, endless rushing of the water washing around the keel, its sound mingling with his passionate tale. The man opposite me in the dark must have started in alarm, for his voice hesitated. Once again I heard his hand move down to find a bottle, and the soft gurgling. Then, as if reassured, he began again in a firmer voice.
“I can scarcely tell you about the hours I passed from that moment on. I think, today, that I was in a fever at the time; at the least I was in a state of over-stimulation bordering on madness—as I told you, I was running amok. But don’t forget, it was Tuesday night when I arrived, and on Saturday—as I had now discovered—her husband was to arrive on the P&O steamer from Yokohama. So there were just three days left, three brief days for the decision to be made and for me to help her. You’ll understand that I knew I must help her at once, yet I couldn’t speak a word to her. And my need to apologise for my ridiculous, deranged behaviour drove me on. I knew how valuable every moment was, I knew it was a matter of life and death to her, yet I had no opportunity of approaching her with so much as a whisper or a sign, because my tempestuous foolishness in chasing after her had frightened her off. It was … wait, yes … it was like running after someone warning that a murderer is on the way, and that person thinks you are the murderer yourself and so runs on to ruin … She saw me only as a man running amok, pursuing her in order to humiliate her, but I … and this was the terrible absurdity of it … I wasn’t thinking of that any more at all. I was destroyed already, I just wanted to help her, do her a service. I would have committed murder, any crime, to help her … but she didn’t understand that. When I woke in the morning and went straight back to her house, the boy was standing in the doorway, the servant whose face I had punched, and when he saw me coming—he must have been looking out for me—he hurried in through the door. Perhaps he went in only to announce my arrival discreetly … perhaps … oh, that uncertainty, how it torments me now … perhaps everything was ready to receive me, but then, when I saw him, I remembered my disgrace, and this time I didn’t even dare to try calling on her again. I was weak at the knees. Just before reaching the doorway I turned and went away again … went away, while she, perhaps, was waiting for me in a similar state of torment.
I didn’t know what to do in this strange city that seemed to burn like fire beneath my feet. Suddenly I thought of something, called for a carriage, went to see the vice-resident on whose leg I had operated back at my own district station, and had myself announced. Something in my appearance must have seemed strange, for he looked at me with slight alarm, and there was an uneasiness about his civility … perhaps he recognised me as a man running amok. I told him, briefly, that I wanted a transfer to the city, I couldn’t exist in my present post any longer, I said, I had to move at once. He looked at me … I can’t tell you how he looked at me … perhaps as a doctor looks at a sick man. ‘A nervous breakdown, my dear doctor?’ he said. ‘I understand that only too well. I’m sure it can be arranged, but wait … let’s say for four weeks, while I find a replacement.’
‘I can’t wait, I can’t wait even a day,’ I replied. Again he gave me that strange look. ‘You must, doctor,’ he said gravely. ‘We can’t leave the station without a medical man. But I promise you I’ll set everything in motion this very day.’ I stood there with my teeth gritted; for the first time I felt clearly that I was a man whose services had been bought, I was a slave. I was preparing to defy him when, diplomat that he was, he got his word in first. ‘You’re unused to mixing with other people, doctor, and in the end that becomes an illness. We’ve all been surprised that you never came here to the city or went on leave. You need more company, more stimulation. Do at least come to the government reception this evening. You’ll find the entire colony, and many of them have long wanted to meet you, they’ve often asked about you and hoped to see you here.’
That last remark pulled me up short. People had asked about me? Could he mean her? I was suddenly a different man: I immediately thanked him courteously for his invitation and assured him that I would be there punctually. And punctual I was, over-punctual. I hardly have to tell you that, driven by my impatience, I was the first in the great hall of the government building, surrounded by the silent, yellow-skinned servants whose bare feet hurried back and forth, and who—so it seemed to me in my confused state of mind—were laughing at me behind my back. For a quarter of an hour I was the only European among all the soundless preparations, so alone with myself that I could hear the ticking of my watch in my waistcoat pocket. Then a few government officials at last appeared with their families, and finally the Governor too entered, and drew me into a long conversation in which I assiduously and I think skilfully played my part, until … until suddenly, attacked by a mysterious attack of nerves, I lost all my diplomatic manner and began stammering. Although my back was to the entrance of the hall, I suddenly felt that she must have entered and was present there. I can’t tell you how that sudden certainty confused me, but even as I was talking to the Governor and heard his words echo in my ears, I sensed her presence somewhere behind me. Luckily the Governor soon ended the conversation—or I think I would suddenly and abruptly have turned, so strong was that mysterious tugging of my nerves, so burning and agitated my desire. And sure enough, I had hardly turned before I saw her exactly where my senses had unconsciously guessed she would be. She wore a yellow ball-dress that made her slender, immaculate shoulders glow like dull ivory, and was talking to a group of guests. She was smiling, but I thought there was a tense expression on her face. I came closer—she either could not or would not see me—and looked at the attractive smile civilly hovering on her narrow lips. And that smile intoxicated me again, because … well, because I knew it was a lie born of art or artifice, a masterpiece of deception. Today is Wednesday, I thought, on Saturday the ship with her husband on board will arrive … how can she smile like that, so … so confidently, with such a carefree look, casually playing with the fan she holds instead of crushing it in her fear? I … I, a stranger, had been trembling for two days at the thought of this moment … Strange to her as I was, I experienced her fear and horror intensely … and she herself went to this ball and smiled, smiled, smiled …
Music started to play at the back of the hall. The dancing began. An elderly officer had asked her to dance; she left the chattering circle with a word of excuse and walked on his arm towards the other hall and past me. When she saw me her face suddenly froze—but only for a second, and then, before I could make up my mind whether or not to greet her, she gave me a civil nod of recognition, as she would to a chance acquaintance, said, ‘Good evening, doctor,’ and was gone. No one could have guessed what that grey-green glance concealed; I didn’t know myself. Why did she speak to me … why did she suddenly acknowledge me? Was it rejection, was it a rapprochement, was it just the embarrassment of surprise? I can’t describe the agitation into which I was cast; everything was in turmoil, explosively concentrated within me, and as I saw her like that—casually waltzing in the officer’s arms, with such a cool, carefree look on her brow, while I knew that she … that she, like me, was thinking of only one thing … that we two alone, out of everyone here, had a terrible secret in common … and she was waltzing … well, in those few seconds my fear, my longing and my admiration became more passionate than ever. I don’t know if anyone was watching me, but certainly my conduct gave away no more than hers—I just could not look in any other direction, I had to … I absolutely had to look at her from a distance, my
eyes fastening on her closed face to see if the mask would not drop for a second. She must have found the force of my gaze uncomfortable. As she moved away on her dancing partner’s arm, she glanced my way for a split second with imperious sharpness, as if repelling me; once again that little frown of haughty anger, the one I knew already, disfigured her brow.
But … but, as I told you, I was running amok; I looked neither to right nor to left. I understood her at once—her glance said: don’t attract attention! Control yourself! I knew that she … how can I put it? … that she expected me to behave discreetly here in the hall, in public. I realised that if I went home at this point, I could be certain she would see me in the morning … that all she wanted to avoid just now was being exposed to my obvious familiarity with her, I knew she feared—and rightly—that my clumsiness would cause a scene. You see, I knew everything, I understood that imperious grey gaze, but … but my feelings were too strong, I had to speak to her. So I moved unsteadily over to the group where she stood talking, joined its loose-knit circle although I knew only a few of the people in it, merely in the hope of hearing her speak, yet always flinching from her eyes timidly, like a whipped dog, when they coldly rested on me as if I were one of the linen curtains hanging behind me, or the air that lightly moved it. But I stood there thirsty for a word spoken to me, for a sign of our understanding, I stood like a block, gazing at her amidst all the chatter. It cannot have passed unnoticed, for no one addressed a word to me, and she had to suffer my ridiculous presence.
I don’t know how long I would have stood there … for ever, perhaps … I could not leave that enchantment of my own volition. The very force of my frenzy crippled me. But she could not bear it any more … she suddenly turned to the gentlemen, with the magnificent ease that came naturally to her, and said, ‘I am a little tired … I think I’ll go to bed early for once. Good night!’ And she was walking past me with a distant social nod of her head … I could still see the frown on her face, and then nothing but her back, her white, cool, bare back. It was a second before I realised that she was leaving … that I wouldn’t be able to see her or speak to her again this evening, this last evening before I could help her. For a moment I stood there rooted to the spot until I realised it, and then … then …
But wait … wait, or you will not understand how stupid and pointless what I did was. I must describe the whole room to you first. It was the great hall of the government building, entirely illuminated by lights and almost empty … the couples had gone into the other room to dance, gentlemen had gone to play cards … only a few groups were still talking in the corners, so the hall was empty, every movement conspicuous and visible in the bright light. And she walked slowly and lightly through that great hall with her shoulders straight, exchanging greetings now and then with indescribable composure, with the magnificent, frozen, proud calm that so enchanted me. I … I had stayed behind, as I told you, as if paralysed, before I realised that she was leaving … and then, when I did realise, she was already at the far side of the hall and just approaching the doors. Then … and I am still ashamed to think of it now … something suddenly came over me and I ran … I ran, do you hear? … I did not walk but ran through the hall after her, my shoes clattering on the floor. I heard my own footsteps, I saw all eyes turning to me in surprise … I could have died of shame … even as I ran I understood my own derangement, but I could not … could not go back now. I caught up with her in the doorway. She turned to me … her eyes stabbed like grey steel, her nostrils were quivering with anger … I was just going to stammer something out when … when she suddenly laughed aloud … a clear, carefree, whole-hearted laugh, and said, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘Oh, doctor, have you only just remembered my little boy’s prescription? Ah, you learned scientists!’ A couple of people standing nearby laughed kindly … I understood, and was shattered by the masterly way she had saved the situation. I put my hand in my wallet and tore a blank leaf off my prescription block, and she took it casually before … again with a cold smile of thanks … before she went. For one second I felt easy in my mind… I saw that her skill in dealing with my blunder had made up for it and put things right—but next moment I also knew that all was over for me now, she hated me for my intemperate folly … hated me worse than death itself. I could come to her door hundreds upon hundreds of times, and she would always have me turned away like a dog.
I staggered through the room … I realised that people were looking at me, and I must have appeared strange. I went to the buffet and drank two, three, four glasses of cognac one after another, which saved me from collapsing. My nerves could bear no more, they were in shreds. Then I slunk out through a side entrance, as secretly as a criminal. Not for any principality in the world could I have walked back through that hall, with her carefree laughter still echoing from its walls. I went … I really can’t say now exactly where I went, but into a couple of bars where I got drunk, like a man trying to drink his consciousness away … but I could not numb my senses, the laughter was there in me, high and dreadful … I could not silence that damned laughter. I wandered around the harbour … I had left my revolver in my room, or I would have shot myself. I could think of nothing else, and with that thought I went back to the hotel with one idea in my mind … the left-hand drawer of the chest where my revolver lay … with that single idea in mind.
The fact that I didn’t shoot myself after all … I swear it wasn’t cowardice, it would have been a release to take off the safety catch and press the cold trigger … how can I explain it? I still felt I had a duty … yes, that damned duty to help. The thought that she might still need me, that she did need me, made me mad … it was Thursday morning before I was back in my room, and on Saturday, as I have told you, on Saturday the ship would come in, and I knew that this woman, this proud and haughty woman would not survive being shamed before her husband and the world … Oh, how my thoughts tortured me, thoughts of the precious time I had unthinkingly wasted, the crazy haste that had thwarted any prospect of bringing her help in time … for hours, I swear, for hours on end I paced up and down my room, racking my brains to think of a way to approach her, put matters right, help her … for I was certain that she wouldn’t let me into her house now. Her laughter was still there in all my nerves, I still saw her nostrils quivering with anger. For hours I paced up and down the three metres of my cramped room … and day had dawned, morning was here already.
Suddenly an idea sent me to the desk … I snatched up a sheaf of notepaper and began to write to her, write it all down … a whining, servile letter in which I begged her forgiveness, called myself a madman, a criminal, and begged her to entrust herself to me. I swore that the hour after it was done I would disappear from the city, from the colony, from the world if she wanted … only she must forgive me and trust me to help her at the last, the very last minute. I feverishly wrote twenty pages like this … it must have been a mad, indescribable letter, like a missive written in delirium, for when I rose from the desk I was bathed in sweat … the room swayed, and I had to drink a glass of water. Only then did I try reading the letter through again, but the very first words horrified me, so I folded it up, trembling, found an envelope … and suddenly a new thought came to me. All at once I knew the right, the crucial thing to say. I picked up the pen again, and wrote on the last sheet, ‘I will wait here in the beach hotel for a word of forgiveness. If no answer comes by seven this evening, I shall shoot myself.’
Then I took the letter, rang for a boy, and told him to deliver the envelope at once. At last I had said everything—everything!”
Something clinked and fell down beside us. As he moved abruptly he had knocked over the whisky bottle; I heard his hand feeling over the deck for it, and then he picked it up with sudden vigour. He threw the empty bottle high in the air and over the ship’s side. The voice fell silent for a few minutes, and then feverishly continued, even faster and more agitated than before.
“I am not a believing Christian an
y more … I don’t believe in heaven or hell, and if hell does exist I am not afraid of it, for it can’t be worse than those hours I passed between morning and evening … think of a small room, hot in the sunlight, red-hot at blazing noon … a small room, just a desk and a chair and the bed … and nothing on the desk but a watch and a revolver, and sitting at the desk a man … a man who does nothing but stare at that desk and the second hand of his watch, a man who eats and drinks nothing, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t move, who only … listen to me … who only stares for three long hours at the white circle of the dial and the hand of the watch ticking as it goes around. That … that was how I spent the day, just waiting, waiting, waiting … but waiting like a man running amok, senselessly, like an animal, with that headlong, direct persistence.
Well, I won’t try to describe those hours to you … they are beyond description. I myself don’t understand now how one can go through such an experience without going mad. Then, at twenty-two minutes past three … I remember the time exactly, I was staring at my watch … there was a sudden knock at the door. I leap up … leap like a tiger leaping on its prey, in one bound I am across the room and at the door, I fling it open, and there stands a timid little Chinese boy with a folded note in his hand. As I avidly reach for it, he scurries away and is gone.
I tear the note open to read it … and find that I can’t. A red mist blurs my vision … imagine my agony, I have word from her at last, and now everything is quivering and dancing before my eyes. I dip my head in water, and my sight clears … once again I take the note and read it. “Too late! But wait where you are. I may yet send for you.”