Indeed, in the room adjacent, large, Square, books, scripts in heaps on the floor, all Dumped as if from a wheelbarrow; up to the ceiling mountains; and there amidst those mountains—abysses, ledges, chasms, peaks, vales, and likewise dust, motes, so that the Nose is piqued.
On these mountains exceeding lean Readers did sit, the which were reading all that! And perchance there were seven or eight of them. “The library,” says Gonzalo, “the library, what trouble I have with it! God’s curse, for these are the most precious, the most esteemed Works of geniuses, of the leading minds of Mankind only, but what, lookye, if they Bite each other, Bite, and also Cheapen from their own superabundance for there are Too Many, Too Many, and every day new ones arrive and no one can read through since too many, oh, too Many! Ergo I, lookye, the Readers hired and pay them handsomely, as I am ashamed that all this lies Unread, but Too many; they cannot read through, even though with no break all day they read. Howbeit, the worst is that the books all Bite each other, bite, and perchance as Dogs will bite themselves to bits!” Whereupon I asked, since a little Dog had just passed, like to a Wolfhound and also to a Dachshund: “And this one—of what breed?” Says he: “These are my lapdogs.” The while Tomasz another dog has noticed, the which in the vestibule was lying, and says: “This one belike a Setter, but a meager lop-ear ’tis for as if a Hamster’s ears it has.” Replied Gonzalo that a Wolfhound Bitch he had, the which perchance in the Cellar with a Hamster must have coupled, and although afterwards mated with a Setter, pups with a Hamster’s Ears had whelped. “Wssht, begone,” he cried.
Ever the more downcast we became… and although that hospitality, gentility of his to gentility in kind compelled us, it was difficult to hide the confusion growing for the reason of the strangeness of this house and this man. Tomasz frowned, scowled, as a carp bristled his whiskers; Ignacy, poor wretch, as if swallowed a stick, naught says but stands; I, although apparently with Gonzalo in league, know not what to expect from this Place which perchance not so much with any rank Oddity but with an aggregation of many disturbing particulars was causing our heads to ache. When Gonzalo, having excused himself, was gone to his chambers to don a more comfortable attire, we stayed by ourselves, but were not eager to talk; and in silence the buzzing of Flies, squawking of Parrots, growling, biting of dogs, in the humid heat of the Evening came to the ear.
Whereupon Gonzalo returns, but in a Skirt! At the sight of this we were astounded, and as for Tomasz, out of terrible anger the blood rushed to his head and perchance he would even have struck … yet a Skirt not a Skirt this was! The Devil! In sooth he had put a skirt on, white, made of lace, but its cut was somewhat like that of a Dressing Gown; and a Blouse, green, yellow, pistachio, perchance a Blouse, perchance a shirt. On his head a Hat large, straw, with flowers adorned; in hand a Parasol and on bare feet Sandals or perchance Pumps.
Straight he called: “Hoopla, hoopla, prithee to the table, let us enjoy ourselves, come what may! What ho, my men, serve up!” But seeing our shock, he added: “Oh, I can see as at an Odd Bird I am looked upon but I am not an Odd Bird; and let it be known to you that in my native country, due to the excessive Heat, in skirts they commonly at home go about; so there is nothing wrong or strange in this and I ask your permission to wear for comfort this attire of mine. A Country—a Custom! And I also put some powder on as my skin dries from the Heat. What ho, my men, lay on, serve up, a festivity today. Come on, guest in—God in, with all my heart I bid you and let us embrace once more since perchance better Friends, Brothers I have not had. And a festivity, a festivity!” And Hugs, Kisses and, having seized our arms, to the Dining Hall he hastens with peals and squeals, and there a round table with cups, crystals, Goblets, Filigree nigh sags … and straightway lackeys with trays, Platters, Pots, yet, markye, we look—but Maids, perchance! So we look again, but they are Lackeys since with Moustache; but perchance Maids since in Caps; but perchance Lackeys since in breeches. Cried Gonzalo: “Prithee eat, drink, stint you not—a festivity, a festivity here. Come on, gobble up!”
Poured for me mulled Beer; but beer not beer as, although Beer, perchance with wine laced; and Cheese not Cheese, aye Cheese, but as if not Cheese. Next those pâtés, perchance Layer Pastries, and as if Pretzel or Marzipan; not Marzipan though, but perchance Pistachio although made of liver. It would be exceeding rude to scrutinize those tasties, ergo we eat, with wine or perchance beer or not Beer drink down, and although one chews a titbit for a while, he somehow swallows it. Gonzalo for his part was lavishly cordial in hospitality and even a song he sang:
Thine eye that shines so
Shoot quick, he comes ho!
Straightway he cried: “To the Devil, why is there no one standing? Albeit I keep a special Boy for Parade to Stand whilst guests are in … Why is there no Parade? What ho, Horatio, Horatio!” At this call, a Boy has come out of the scullery and in the center of the room stands still. Gonzalo to him: “You, such an Idler, why do you not stand? For what do I pay you? Here you must Stand for Parade!” And to us he says: “There is a custom in my country, and mainly in the better homes, that one servant just for Parade stands; but the idler prefers to lie about. Let’s drink, drink up!”
What care I for Mistress’ squeal,
Pour in, pour on, a friendship seal.
Ergo, we drink. We drink down. Yet hard, hard, oh hard as if you were stranded on a field, and moreover Empty as in an Empty Barn and as if there were just straw, empty. Indeed, in the boundless emptiness of my soul like the grinding of a barrel organ. Howbeit, I look at that man, that Bajbak who in the center of the room stands and Gazes, and I see that Horatio now and then this or that of his Moves… and so he would blink or his Hand move or his feet would shift or Spittle swallow. Those moves were in sooth quite natural but also an Unnatural air they had … although Natural and barely noticeable … but I fancied somewhat that he not only for Parade there … and, upon more closely observing these Movements, this I marked: viz. that starer perchance does move so for Ignacy. But Gonzalo sang:
Mama, Mama, how this frisketh!
But better still it even pisketh.
Ergo I look, even though as if look not, but still Look … and I see that that Bajbak with Ignacy companies and this in such manner: viz. when Ignacy Moves, he moves (although one can scarce see) and indeed as if he were on Ignacy’s string. If then Ignacy would for bread reach, he would Blink, and if Ignacy would take a drink of Beer, he would his Leg move; but a bit, a bit, so that those movements of his make almost no sign; but with his Movements responds so as if by movement gibed him along. Haply no one save me noticed.
That very moment a Dog, large, a Setter, has come to fawn; and as a Ram black; but not a Ram it was since as a Cat, large, with claws, but with a Goat’s tail and instead of mewing as a Goat bleated. Cried out Gonzalo: “Come, come, Negrito—here, have a Core!”
Asked Tomasz: “And this, of what Breed?”
Gonzalo to that: “A bitch I had, St. Bernard with a pointer, a Spitz laced, but apparently with Cat Tom somewhere in the cellars it must have coupled; and if you were to keep your eye on them, I know not how hard, they still would. But let’s go to the salon for Confections as ’tis cooler there and airier. Prithee, prithee, my kind Guests!” Says Tomasz: “Let it be forgiven us but it becomes dark and the way we know not. Moreover, I have urgent affairs; time for us. If Your Worship would order the horses to be harnessed.”
Cries out: “Naught of this, naught of this, I wouldn’t hear of it. It has not come to pass yet that a host let his Guests go with the night nearing! Heigh heigh. So the wheels I have ordered to be taken off the carriages!”
Whereupon flies, large, golden, with the onset of dusk appeared and under the Palms began to swarm, and after the Parrots’ cries wane, other voices, titterings, night squeals of who knows what Animals rise, and the night with its Mantilla covers droning Baobabs. We at confections not confections, chat and do not chat, and although not Drunk yet Drunk, amidst Furniture the which who knows now if F
urniture or perchance Vases… but Empty, and as in a Waste. And though something is to be conceived, resolved, any Thought, any resolution as stubble, as Straw, as a Stalk through-blown with wind on a dry plain. And ever larger the Void, that emptiness of ours. And that Bajbak as before in the center stands and to a beat with his movements at Ignacy dances, although dances not (since apparently Stands). Finally the host brought us some ease, giving the signal for sleep and calling the servants to lead us to the guest chambers.
For me to Sleep the Bathing Closet was assigned, and next for Tomasz a Boudoir where divers Bibelots aplenty, and chiefly little Fans, Figurines of tortoise-shell or porcelain and also Meerschaum on shelves, Console-tables, tables, little Chinese tables behind Screens.
For Ignacy in another wing of the palace a bedchamber was appointed and hence Tomasz’s woe: viz. now obvious has become Gonzalo’s design to have him set apart. When in the room alone I found myself and with just a lit candle, a dread quite deep did grip me and this to myself say I: What are you doing? To what do you lend yourself? Look to it that it not Turn on you … but empty my words, empty, empty. For the second time then say I to myself: Oh, wherefore are you here? Why with a Puto against a worthy Father have you contrived? … Indeed, this may Turn, turn on you … yet all as pepper, as a stalk, dry, empty. Ergo I say: Oh, why did you slip those Bullets into the Sleeve? Why did you betray a Countryman Kinsman? … yet silence, as if after seeds sown, a redolence of emptiness, empty, lookye, empty … Here heavy Fright seized me, but completely Empty. Ergo, the strangest feeling I experienced since perchance not Fear but the Emptiness of my fear is frightening me; and not the Fear itself but, indeed, Fear caused by the lack of Fear. Ergo, in that waste of mine, this I say: Go you to Tomasz, confess that guilt of yours, the whole Truth confess; let the Truth ensue here since something bad could happen to you. Go, make haste! … yet I see that instead of moving, frightening me, these words as an Empty Bottle or a Chest. Upon seeing then that I was not frightened I became so Frightened that into Tomasz’s room as mad I burst, this shouting: “Know you, Tomasz, friend of mine, that I betray you, and that Duel was one with no bullets, for we with Gonzalo so contrived! For God’s mercy, flee with your Son, flee before too late since here in this cursed House your Son will be debauched; and ’tis not for you with such sorceries to contend! Flee, flee, I say!”
Tomasz at this cry and confession of mine out of bed jumped and, in Shirt amidst bibelots, raising his arms, exclaimed:
“Is’t true that with no Bullets the Duel was?”
Comes up, springs towards, seizes by the arms: “Speak, speak! With no bullets? With no bullets? With powder alone!”
When the Old Man by the arms gripped me I to my Knees before him did fall in repentance, in that Attrition and Anguish of mine … but the Repentance empty. He naught but heaved, and this heaving of his heavy, wheezy, seemed to fill the whole room. Asks he:
“So all of you were in collusion?”
“I with Gonzalo.”
“And other witnesses?”
“The Baron, Pyckal likewise in collusion.”
He heaves and heaves heavily as if up Hill. Says he: “But why have you done this to me? But why have you not respected my grey hair? But tell me what I have done to you that you have done this to me.”
Into sobbing then, Heavy, heartfelt, I broke, his Old legs embracing; but those tears of mine void, or as if off a roof drip.
“So with powder alone I did fire? So with powder alone I did fire? So with powder alone I did fire?”
Three times he repeated. Feeling his wrath, harder to his Legs I clung, and not daring to lift my head, the wrath of the grey head of the aged Old man, wrath of the trembling hands, of fingers crook’d as claws, eyes age-old, Faded, and bones dry, wrath, wrath above me I felt. Once more then against his Legs I snuggle, but merciless, hard those Legs of his!
Quoth he: “Aye, let God’s Will be done!”
Cried I: “Zounds! What do you intend? …”
Oh, God sees that this moment I did all as one ought, and due Terror, Fear, Trembling I shew … but fearful to me was that Fear of mine by its very Non-fearfulness. Oh, why can I not at the Father’s wrathful legs, and on my knees, Attrition, Anguish, Terror feel, and only Straw, hay, Stalk, Stalk empty! Says he: “I needs must my ignominy cleanse … I will with blood cleanse it … but not with the womanly blood of that caitiff … Here another, a little Weightier blood is needed!”
I to him, to his legs. I to those Legs of his! But hard Legs. Here hoarse voice; here Hair grey; here wrinkles, here a hand being raised, trembling, eyes half lidded and his Curse poised just above me! Ergo I trembled, Stiffened, but in vain did I Tremble, Stiffen, since Void, Void, Empty Barrel and Pistol Empty!
“It seems that I and my Son were to be made dodos; but my Son is not a dodo! And I also not a Harlequin!” And cries he amidst these Bibelots: “Not a Harlequin!”
Thereupon I perceived that for him likewise Empty … And thus as amidst pines when Dry, Empty and a distant wind Stalks, dry Plants blows about, nudges, rustles, Mosses calls upon, with leaves, with stems plays … and above Conifers, Pines … Vain cry! Void wrath! Pepper, wild thyme, and what is lost is lost!
Yet closer the Old Man has moved to me … closer has moved, my hand has clasped, and his lips to my ear brings nigh: “Through God’s help with blood I will cleanse it, and the blood will be weighty, fearsome, since that Son’s of mine!”
Quoth I: “What wouldst thou do? What wouldst thou do?”
He to that: “I that Son of mine with my own paternal hand will smite and him Dispatch; him with this Hand of mine, murder, with a Knife—or not a Knife—stab …”
Cried I: “Haply mad! For God’s sake! What do’st thou say?”
“I will smite, smite since it cannot be that I with an Empty Pistol fired … and so him I will smite, Smite!”
In the emptiness of that Fear of mine, emptily, emptily, swiftly I left the room. From the windows of Gonzalo’s salons the languid light of the Moon is cast. Ergo, it was certain that Tomasz this Intent of his would carry out, and not only to take vengeance for his being Derided but likewise to save by that fearsome death that Son of his from derision. When in murderous combat Earth and Sky, embraced by the afterglow, on rumps, snorting, sit, and all Falls, falls Apart and Yell, Bellow, Mothers’ moan and Men’s Fists in clash and clang and in the bursting of Coffins and Graves, in the final agitation of the world, of Nature, Defeat, Annihilation—oh, the End neareth when the Judgment on all living things is come to be—he, the old man, likewise for Combat stands! The Patria’s enemy he would combat! And since advancing years him to Impotence condemn, he his Only Son to the Army gives for death or maim. And throws into the balance not only that Dearest Son of his, but also his own affections; that Sacrifice of the Old man being weighty, bloodsome!
But paltry that Sacrifice of his. Not fearsome his grey hair. Vain the Old Man’s affection! For he, from an empty barrel at a Puto having popped, empty has become, and perchance a childlike Gaffer and one just to be given some Pap so that he would eat, or children louse, or at Crows, Jackdaws from a pop-gun pop on a summer’s day! Ergo, the impotence of that Empty Popping of his. And he, feeling this Impotence of his, would fain kill it in himself his Son killing … and, killing his Son, he, by this fearful Filicide, in himself the empty Gaffer kills so as to become the bloodsome, Weighty Old Man, and with this Old Man he would Terrify, Frighten! And void those Supplications of mine! Void Prayers of mine, viz. for him the Old Man by those fearful prayers of mine was increasing …
To the Devil, the Devil, the Devil, the Devil, the Devil! Whilst I so with my thoughts combat amidst the night rustling, droning, squealing, yelping, of this house, Gonzalo from nowhere springs out! “But how that Old Gent curses! Everything I heard for behind the door I was hidden! Wherefore did you, traitor, tell him about the Pistols?”
“If you heard then you know that those Merriments of yours with a murder will end since what he has said he w
ill do, and kill his Son he will.”
He reeked of vodka … staggered, almost fell… Drunk as a Sot! “He would my Ignasiek fain murder on me,” he yelled, “but just let him wait for indeed that Ignasiek of mine will for me murder him!”
In drunkenness he was babbling. Yet something in these words of his was not to my liking so I say: “You are drunk. Better go to sleep. Wherefore is Ignac to murder his father? Oh, oh, you’d better go, have some sleep. Stop bothering!”
“The Old Gent Ignac will murder! I will induce it since I know the Way for it … to Ignac I know the way!”
Gibberish he was speaking. That drunken gibberish of his was not even worth listening to! Yet he had something on the tip of his tongue so I pulled it out: “Oh, what’s this way to Ignac that you know? Ignac cannot look at you.”
He was offended: “Oh! Indeed, he quite likes me! And I will induce it that he will his Papa kill! Papa Kill—and I know the Way for it! And after he has become a papacide of that old fool, haply my Aid and Succor will need since of gaol this smells; and then Soften he will to me. Tra la la, tra la la!”
Him by the gullet I gripped! “Speak what intend you! What new Madness, Devilishness are you fancying here? What plots with that Menial of yours, with that Horatio are you scheming? What with Ignac has he? Wherefore at Ignac does he so with Movements, what did you with him contrive? Speak, else I will strangle you!” And he in my hands softened, eyeballs rolled upwards, and whispered: ‘Oh, squeeze not, squeeze not—squeeze, squeeze, squeeze!” As scalded, I from his neck sprang away. “Oh!” I cried: “Watch yourself, you reptile, as I keep a reckoning!” And thereupon he exclaimed: “Filistria, Filistria!” I was stunned. And he again: “Filistria, Filistria, Filistria!” shouted at the top of his voice till this name the whole house, it seems, did fill and on Forests, Fields did strike; and again “Filistria” shouted as one possessed … Whilst he is so shouting I began to Walk and then from that Walk of mine—that Walk of mine did strike up! He is still shouting: “Filistria, Filistria, Filistria and Filistria, and Filistria, and Filistria!” That Walk of mine from those shouts of his has become ever the more mighty and now so Violent, so Mighty that perchance the whole House, together with that shouting of his, it blows up!
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