by Robert Musil
This is what Törless was experiencing. When he stopped to think about it, Reiting’s account of what had happened between him and Basini seemed of no consequence. A misdemeanour brought about by spinelessness and a lack of judgement on Basini’s part, which would inevitably be followed by some vicious whim of Reiting’s. But at the same time he had an alarming premonition that events had taken a distinctly personal turn, that they would affect him directly, and that there was something dangerous about this incident, which was pointing at him like the tip of a rapier.
He couldn’t stop himself from imagining Basini with Božena, and glanced round the room. The walls seemed to be bearing down on him, threatening him, clutching at him with bloody hands; the revolver was swinging back and forth on its hook…
For the first time it was as if a stone had fallen into the lonely, ambivalent well of his dreams; it was just there: there was nothing he could do about it. It was reality. Yesterday Basini had been exactly the same as him, and then a trapdoor had opened and Basini had fallen down it. Exactly like in Reiting’s description: there was a sudden change and the man had changed completely…
Again this seemed to create a connection with Božena. His thoughts had blasphemed. The rank, sickly smell that rose from them had confused and unsettled him. And this humiliation, this self-abnegation, this submergence beneath the pale, stifling, poisonous leaves of ignominy that floated through his dreams like a distant, ethereal reflection in a mirror – Basini had actually experienced it.
So was it really something to be reckoned with, to guard against, in case it suddenly leapt out of the silent mirror of your thoughts?…
If this were true, then everything else was possible too. Reiting and Beineberg were possible. This room was possible… And it was also possible that, in the bright, sunlit everyday world, the only one he had known up till now, there was a gateway to another world, a world that was stifling, unchained, impassioned, naked and destructive. That between those people whose well-regulated lives revolve around their work and family – as if within a solid, transparent wall of iron and glass – and the others – the fallen and bleeding who lead sordid, dissipated existences and wander through labyrinths filled with shrieking voices – there isn’t simply a crossing point: their borders are actually drawing closer together, constantly and secretly, until they finally meet…
And so the only question was this: how is it possible? What really happens at moments like that? Which of them flies high into the sky, screaming, and which one dies away?…
These were the questions that this incident caused Törless to ask himself. They surged up in his mind, confused and indistinct, their lips firmly sealed, veiled by a vague, uncertain feeling that was perhaps weakness, perhaps fear…
And yet many of these words, which seemed to echo in incoherent isolation in the distance, filled him with fearful anticipation.
It was at this moment that Reiting asked his question.
Immediately Törless began to speak. He was obeying a sudden impulse, a form of dismay. He felt as if something decisive were about to happen, and was terrified at the thought that it was almost upon him; he wanted to escape, play for time… Yet even as he spoke he was aware that what he was saying was metaphorical, that his words had no inner coherence and didn’t express what he really believed.
“Basini is a thief,” he said. He enjoyed the firm, decisive sound of the word so much that he repeated it: “A thief. And people like that are punished everywhere in the world. He should be reported and thrown out! Let him go somewhere else and mend his ways, he doesn’t belong here any more!”
Reiting reacted with surprised hostility: “No,” he said. “Why should we go to extremes straight away?”
“Why? Don’t you think it would be the right thing to do?”
“Absolutely not. You talk as if fire and brimstone will descend on us if we allow Basini to stay here a minute longer. What he did wasn’t so terrible.”
“How can you say that? You’re perfectly happy to go on living, eating and sleeping under the same roof as someone who steals, who offered to be your slave! I don’t understand that at all. If we’re educated together, it’s because we belong to the same part of society. Doesn’t it bother you that one day you might find yourself in the same regiment as him, or in the same government department, moving in the same circles? That he might even pay court to your sister?…”
“Come off it, aren’t you getting rather carried away?” laughed Reiting. “You’re behaving as if we’re part of a lifelong fraternity! Do you think we’ve all been stamped with a special seal that says: ‘Former pupil of W. Endowed with special privileges and duties’? We’ll all go our separate ways eventually; each of us will get his due reward in life, because there’s no such thing as one single society. What I mean is that we shouldn’t agonize about the future. As for the present, I’m not suggesting that we continue to be friends with Basini. There will always be ways of maintaining a distance between him and us. Basini is under our control, we can do what we like with him; you can spit in his face night and morning as far as I’m concerned, if that’s what pleases you: as long as he puts up with it, what common ground is there between us? And if he rebels, we can still show him who’s in charge… Forget the idea that there’s a bond between ourselves and Basini, apart from the amusement his despicable character will provide!”
Although Törless himself was far from convinced by his own argument, he became increasingly agitated: “Listen, Reiting, why are you so keen to take Basini’s side?”
“Is that what I’m doing? I’m not so sure. I don’t have any reason to do so: in fact the whole business leaves me indifferent. But what does annoy me is that you’re exaggerating. What’s got into you? Some sort of idealism I expect. Saintly devotion to the Old School or justice. You can’t imagine how soppy and oh-so commendable it sounds. Or maybe” – and Reiting narrowed his eyes and gave Törless a suspicious look – “there’s some other reason why Basini has to be thrown out, but you don’t want to put your cards on the table? Some old score you want to settle? So tell us! If it’s worth the effort this might be the ideal opportunity to make use of it.”
Törless turned to Beineberg. But the latter was just smirking. While the other two were talking he had been sitting with his legs crossed oriental fashion, dragging on a long chibouk; with his protruding ears, in the ambivalent light he resembled a monstrous idol. “As far as I’m concerned you can do what you like,” he said. “I’m not worried about money or justice. In India they would drive a sharpened bamboo cane into his belly; at least that would have the virtue of being entertaining. He’s stupid and cowardly, so he wouldn’t be any great loss, and not once in my life have I been remotely concerned about what happens to people of his sort. In themselves they’re nothing, and as for what becomes of their souls, we have no idea. May Allah bless your decision!”
Törless didn’t reply. Now that Reiting had contradicted him and Beineberg refused to influence their decision, he had nothing more to say. He wasn’t capable of further resistance: in fact he sensed that he no longer had any desire to hold back the dark, obscure events that were about to take place.
So when Reiting made a suggestion it was agreed. It was decided that for the time being Basini would be kept under observation, effectively under supervision, to give him the chance to make amends. His income and expenditure would be strictly monitored, and his dealings with other pupils subject to approval by the three of them.
This decision had all the appearances of being correct and well intentioned – “soppy and oh-so commendable” as Reiting would have said, although this time he didn’t. In fact, although they didn’t admit as much to each other, they all sensed that what they ought to establish now was a form of interregnum. Because of the pleasure it afforded him, Reiting would have been reluctant not to see the matter through to its conclusion, although as yet he wasn’t sure what direction events might take. As for Törless, the thought that he would have
to associate with Basini on a daily basis left him in something like a state of paralysis.
When he used the word “thief” earlier, it had brought him a moment of relief. As if everything that was gnawing away inside him had been thrust aside, ejected.
But the questions that immediately resurfaced couldn’t be answered by this one word alone. At the same time as becoming clearer they were now even more unavoidable.
He looked first at Reiting, then at Beineberg, closed his eyes, repeated the details of their decision to himself, then opened his eyes again… He was no longer sure if it was his imagination that seemed to have placed an enormous distorting lens between him and all these things, or whether what was taking shape in front of him in such a sinister way was actually real. Were Beineberg and Reiting the only ones who were unaware of these questions? Despite the fact that they had always been at home in this world, which for the first time was beginning to seem so strange to him?
Törless was afraid of them. But only in the sense that you are afraid of a giant that you know is blind and stupid…
One thing was certain, however: he had come a long way in the last quarter of an hour. Turning back was no longer possible. Now he had committed himself against his will he began to feel curious about what was going to happen. Everything that was stirring and muttering deep inside him was still shrouded in mystery, yet he felt a growing desire to stare into this darkness and see the shapes it contained, shapes that the others never noticed. Mingling with this desire was a faint trembling, as if from now on an ashen and overcast sky would hang continuously over his life – a sky filled with enormous clouds, vast, constantly changing shapes, and always the same question over and over again: are they monsters, or just clouds?
And this question was for him alone to answer! It was secret, alien and forbidden territory to the others…
For the first time, the significance that Basini would later assume in Törless’s life began to become apparent.
The next day Basini was placed under supervision.
Not without certain ceremony. They chose a morning gymnastics period out on the playing fields, which they had managed to skip.
Reiting gave a form of address – which wasn’t exactly brief. He pointed out to Basini that he had brought his own character into disrepute, that he should have been reported, and that he owed it to an exceptional act of mercy on their part that for the moment he was spared the disgrace of being expelled.
He was then informed of the special conditions. Reiting took it upon himself to ensure that they were adhered to.
Throughout this little scene Basini remained very pale, but he didn’t say a word, and it was impossible to tell from his expression what he was thinking or feeling.
Törless found the whole performance in turns extremely tasteless and enormously significant.
Beineberg, meanwhile, paid far more attention to Reiting than to Basini.
5
DURING THE DAYS that followed, the whole affair seemed to have been virtually forgotten. Apart from during lessons and at mealtimes, Reiting was hardly ever seen, and Beineberg was more taciturn than ever, while Törless tried constantly to put the matter out of his mind.
As for Basini, he came and went among all the others as if nothing had happened.
He was slightly taller than Törless, rather puny, with limp, languid movements and a girlish face. Although not particularly intelligent and one of the weakest at fencing and gymnastics, there was nonetheless a quite winning, flirtatious charm about him.
He only went to Božena in order to put on an act of manliness. As a late developer, he was unlikely to have experienced any genuine desire. He probably felt obliged to do it out of good form and duty, to ensure that he didn’t lack an aura of amorous experience. For him the best part was when he walked out of Božena’s room and left it all behind, because for him the most important thing was to acquire the souvenir.
There were also times when he would lie out of pure vanity. After the holidays he always returned to school with mementoes of his various escapades – ribbons, locks of hair, billets-doux. But when he came back with a garter in his trunk, a small, delightfully fragrant, pale-blue garter that later transpired to belong to his twelve-year-old sister, he was ridiculed for such absurd braggadocio.
His evident lack of moral fibre went hand in hand with foolish behaviour. Easily led, he never failed to be surprised at the consequences of his actions. In this he resembled a woman with kiss curls arranged over her forehead who puts a small dose of poison in all of her husband’s food, and is then horrified at the judge’s harsh words as he pronounces the death sentence.
Törless avoided him. As a result, the profound shock that from the first moment had shaken his thoughts to their very roots gradually lost its grip. Everything around him became rational and well ordered again; as the days went by his discomfiture faded into the realms of illusion, like the last vestiges of a dream that is unable to hold out against the solid, sunlit reality of the world.
As a way of reassuring himself that the situation would be maintained, he wrote to his parents and told them what had happened. The only details he left out were his own feelings.
He now felt, as he had originally, that it would be best if Basini were to be expelled as soon as possible. To him it was inconceivable that his parents could think otherwise. He expected them to condemn Basini in the strongest, most disgusted terms, in the way one might brush away an unpleasant insect to prevent it from coming anywhere near one’s child.
There was nothing of this in the reply that he received. Being reasonable, upright people they had gone to great lengths to consider all the circumstances, inasmuch as they were able to form a picture of them from the sketchy information in his hastily written letter. Thus they favoured the most lenient and measured response, all the more so because they knew their son’s account was likely to be influenced by the exaggerations of indignant youth. They approved of the decision to give Basini an opportunity to reform, and were of the view that no one had the right to ruin a person’s chances in life on account of a minor lapse. Especially – and they stressed this point particularly – when dealing with people who were not fully grown, whose characters were still developing and thus malleable. Of course, Basini had to be dealt with severely, but always with kindness, so as to encourage him to mend his ways.
They reinforced their remarks with a series of examples that were very familiar to him. He still had vivid memories of his first few years at the school, when the masters were fond of draconian measures, imposing strict limits on pocket money, and many of the younger boys, gluttonous creatures that they were, were unable to resist scrounging a piece of ham sandwich or something similar from their more fortunate classmates. He hadn’t always been able to avoid the temptation himself, although he concealed his shame by grumbling about the malicious, evil-minded masters. It wasn’t just the process of growing up, but also the well-intentioned urgings of his parents, that had taught him to put pride before such weakness.
But this no longer had the desired effect.
He had to admit that in many respects his parents were right, although he knew it was almost impossible for them to judge from a distance. But their letter seemed to lack something even more important.
This missing element was the awareness that something irreparable had happened, something that ought never to happen among people of a certain milieu. They spoke as if it were perfectly normal, that it simply had to be handled with tact and sensitivity and without making a fuss. A blemish, yes, but only a minor one, and as inevitable as a call of nature. There was no more evidence of concern or personal perceptions in their letter than there was in Beineberg or Reiting.
Törless could have left it at that. But he tore the letter into little pieces and burned it. It was the first time in his life that he had shown such a lack of filial respect.
Their letter had quite the opposite effect to what had been intended. In contrast with the simple,
commonsensical opinions that he had been offered, it was the more ambiguous and dubious aspects of Basini’s misconduct which came flooding into his mind. Shaking his head, he told himself that he would have to give it more thought, although he couldn’t think of any reason why.
The strangest thing of all was when his thoughts were followed by dreams. Basini would appear to him exactly as he did every day, clear and comprehensible, the same as his parents and friends might have seen him. But the next moment he would vanish, only to keep reappearing as a tiny little figure that glowed faintly in the background, far far away…
6
THEN LATE ONE NIGHT, when everyone was asleep, he suddenly felt someone shaking him.
Beineberg was sitting beside his bed. It was so unusual that he immediately guessed it must be something serious.
“Get up. And don’t make a noise: we don’t want anyone to notice. We’ve got to go upstairs, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Törless threw on some clothes, found a coat and jammed his feet into his slippers…
When they got to the attic, Beineberg took particular care to replace all the obstacles behind them, and then made some tea.