The feeling that now seemed to emanate from norfloxacino



Georg, having come over from the university with Sigurd, who on one weekday used to keep him company for two hours between lectures, found his beautiful room bright in the full light of the sun, although not reaching the windows, only across the autumn garden poured out. From the niches between the bookshelves flamed the mighty colors of the October flowers: yellow dahlias and wine-black, snow-white curls of chrysanthemums, violet aster-bouquets, and sturdy tufts of red-flame and yellow leaves.

“You have,” said George sleepily and a little annoyed, as Sigurd, without noticing anything, let his folder slide into a chair and went to the books, “you have probably never noticed that the year begins with the same colors and closes. “

“I do not understand that, Georg,” he remarked, bending his head sideways to read a title in the lowest compartment along the spine.

“Namely yellow and purple. Yellow and purple crocuses, primroses, violets and daffodils, and asters and sunflowers in autumn. ”

“Nice. Wills tell me, “Sigurd muttered, thrusting his lower lip out, suddenly pulling out a small book, blowing over the cut and flipping it open. “Kassner,” he said. “From the elements of human greatness. I do not know that yet. Would you lend me? ”

“With pleasure.” Groaning, Georg rolled a chair over the carpets, gave him a lift that he flew in front of the open garden door, adjusted him and let himself fall into it. Pulling out his cigarette case and lighter, he grumbled, “What do you have of all the philosophers! I do not understand a single word about Kassner. They should read verses. In three lines by Rilke there is more knowledge of things than in – I do not know what. “Sifting the first, deep draft from the cigarette into his lungs, he stretched his chest up and spoke with a deep sigh:

“As if the gesture was

a girl hand

suddenly not passed again …

Yes, that! And that of the Panther:

Then a picture goes in,

goes through the limbs tense silence

and stop being in the heart …

And so many others! Do you notice how one breathes the soul of things through the bone and the bone? How they all become human, and already half-divine in humanization? ”

“The soul of things?” He heard Sigurd behind him. “Well, in that case, that is probably not much more than the poet’s sense of it.”

“I am afraid, Sigurd, our whole soul is nothing but our sense of our life. Look … “Half closing his eyelids, Georg blinked into the sun,” I mean this: at the moment when man – namely, the one he was at first – makes the difference between his temporality and what he called eternity; Eternity, that is, the duration of its environment, which seemed to be longer than its course, up to the stars, – there – not – he thought them to be eternal and gave this eternity to one or more of the dwellings, as he himself dwelt in the time. So there stood man – like time – against God – equal to eternity. ”

“Nice speculation,” he heard Sigurd mumble shortly behind him. “Before, do you think that only man stood against man?”

“Before,” said George, “man took the other man as part of his environment, -that is to say, I mean thus: that man stood against man, against his peers, he could only feel that as fate, when he felt his loneliness and smallness towards eternity, so that feeling first grew through that. ”

“So the soul,” Sigurd asked, “would be a – a wound of existence?”

Georg replied: “Yes, you see, I thought this way: the body breathes through pores, the spirit – through wounds. The soul is a wound; the wound of the spirit. I came to another – ”

“Of course,” he heard Sigurd reply, “the pleasure in existence, every sense of pleasure is conceivable, without a soul. First, the hostile sensations, the consciousness … You know: a dog fears the storm, without knowing why … so: the consciousness of supernatural powers, incomprehensible powers and torments, the consciousness of everything painful and destructive, that makes first the human. ”

“Naturally! the enemy! “said George. “He accepted the friendly forces of nature simply and unobjectionably; only the enemy mobilized him with very physical means: he had to defend himself. Lust brings nothing forth, pain makes you inventive, pain is convincing alone. Lust does not doubt that pleasure is known to last forever, that is duration – its first pain is the idea that it must end – “pain wants knowledge.” He fell silent, not pleased with this achievement. Then, as Sigurd remained silent, he bent around the back of his chair, but only after a while did he discover, at the very back, only his high head to the right of the staircase in front of the books; the rest of his squatting form was hidden behind the desk.

“Are you listening to me?” Georg asked dissatisfied. Suddenly he sprang up to his length, and Georg laughed, for he had properly dived a book from the depths.

“Yes, now I know how you do it,” he said. “They pull out the books in every library, read titles and writers, plus a section on page forty-seven, and then you know it.”

Sigurd chuckled slightly, without looking as if he had heard, and went to the desk and sat down in front of it, whereupon George threw his legs over the arm of the chair to keep an eye on him.

“What were you talking about?” Sigurd asked, opening his book.

“From the first humans,” Georg replied ambiguously.

“Those in Paradise,” Sigurd said, looking up, “if you mean them, of course, God knew them. So, whether they were humans already? ”

“God?” Asked George. “No. God was probably more like them. And they knew nothing about time, and that everything could end once. ”

“Oh, Georg, you do not believe in God. By the way, did you ever notice that that ban in the Garden of Eden, because of the apple, is only given to Adam? The other day I noticed when I accidentally read the text; Eve was not created yet. So how was she supposed to understand afterwards? She just had to rely on the man who told her, and of course she did not like that. ”

“From that point on, until now,” said George with a smile, “she has always relied on the man, but she has always been against it and has always tempted him to eat.”

Sigurd seemed to read. I once believed in God, Georg thought. To God? Yes, to a simple good human god, when was that? And suddenly he was gone. I was confirmed-no, back then-but I remember exactly what fights I had for his sake, and how we boys argued for half an entire night-but, it seems to me, as if all about him was decided before the fighting began. They were more of a form, and out of fear, but at that time one was not afraid of the world, so one dared to take it alone, without God, with her. It was about God. When did I really believe in him? – When I could blush, he went through it, and he felt the blood rush to his face. I’m still blushing! he thought – no, no, this is another blush, I blush before myself; but I meant the blushing of the world in which God was, the blush that came from God, not that of myself. Now Sigurd closed his book, put it on the table and said:

“Besides, it occurs to me, there is nothing wrong with a punishment. In the Bible, I mean. He only said: you can not. If he had said right at the beginning: then you will be expelled – ”

“Then,” said George, “they would probably have fallen on the apple!”

“How?” Sigurd asked distractedly and continued: “He just forbade, how could they understand that? Adam told Eve what she probably thought: he forbade it, but if I did? – he said he was a dear god … And Adam thought: What would happen if … You see, he could not do otherwise, he had to doubt, nothing could satisfy him, he was hungry for knowledge, after the apple, after pain … you see, it comes out the same. ”

Georg, carried away, said thoughtfully: “And then came the fear – God had said nothing yet! – They hid themselves. “Suddenly in his own thoughts, he said slowly:” He must have turned very red when he was eating. ”

“What do you mean?” Sigurd asked. Georg remembered; Sigurd, face in his hands, looked at the carpet.

“Hiding,” he said, “was stupid. Guilt feeling damn right from the beginning. The women, as you said, believe in a loving, forgiving God-that is, because they like their guilt for less than they are, for they can not weigh-the man to a righteous God. ”

“To the Talmud,” Georg replied.

Sigurd was silent. After a while, straightening up without looking at George, he noticed that these were German conversations …

“How so?”

“The German prefers to talk about things that he does not understand, but that can be guessed at a lot.”

“In Russia, however,” Georg interjected, “only Russia speaks. And do you know, “he laughed,” what is the most German of our conversation? ”

“Well, tell me.”

The telephone chirped, Georg got up. “That we criticize afterwards; or at least determine what it was about. Now we can still – “The telephone chirped again -” to ascertain, “said George, as he went,” that we have noticed that the German likes to say- “Smiling, lowering the receiver, leaning over the table, he said:” Georg Trassenberg. ”

“Hello God, Georg,” he heard Esther’s voice, it seemed a little dull. “Is Sigurd here?”

“Hello, Esther! Yes, he is here. How are you?”

“Thanks …” That came hesitantly; then nothing more.

“Wait, Esther!” Georg handed the receiver to Sigurd, who was still sitting at the table.

“Yes, Esther. – – No, I wanted to come later today. What is it? “- – Georg walked slowly up to the Pensieroso, Sigurd continued listening in breaks:” You shall come? – Yes, then go ahead. ”

George – the last one sounded strangely hard – dared to turn his head a little, but Sigurd – he had gotten up – turned away.

“Of course you have to drive.” That sounded again as always, short tailed, – but he was like that. “After Hamburg first? Yes, of course, they are waiting for that. As? They are waiting for it, I say. When is the ship going? “Georg flinched. Ship? He listened suddenly, his heart pounding wildly, but endless time did not come, and he stood, flickering in his eyes and green before the eyes, martyred by the inaudible voice in the distance that said everything. At last he heard Sigurd’s voice again.

“Yes, then it’s best – how? – It’s best the day after tomorrow – yes, Miss, I’m still talking! ”

Everything is still. So to America. Fort. Just go away. Esther. That was impossible. Georg heard his name, then clearly Sigurd, who asked him to answer the telephone.

“Yes, what is it, Esther?”

“My fiancé wrote, Georg. He has been waiting for a while, for nine months, soon. And he’s writing about a ship I’m supposed to use – it’s going to be in the middle of next week, and- “Georg thought he heard her take a breath. “And now relatives of us are waiting in Hamburg, that I still visit her. So – “Her voice went out, then picked up again. “So I’ll probably drive the day after tomorrow. Then tomorrow I’ll have the whole day to pack and – “There was nothing left.

“Yes, Esther, if need be. What can one do there? “Evil, a bruise in his heart, he continued bluntly:” I am only sorry that I can not then bring you to the train. Tomorrow I have to fight, and that will be pretty bad, I – yes, I can not explain that to you straight away, why. Then – “his chest tightened -” then we will not see each other anymore. ”

No Answer. “Are you still there, Esther?”

“I – I could still be today – – if you were right … I have time now.”

“Of course, Esther, lovely! So you come? Good-bye! Do you still want your brother – – Are you still there? ”

Georg, breathing heavily, hung up the phone, gathered himself, and looked around for Sigurd. He sat on the back of one of the chairs in the corner of the fireplace, his head down; the face was hot, the eyes darker than ever. Slowly, sliding his lips in front of and back and forth, he began to speak.

“Once it has to be. Now it’s too late. ”

George’s tongue moved heavily. “Why: too late?”

Sigurd bent low, lifting one foot, tugged at a thread in his trouser cuff, and tore. “To hold her,” he said vaguely.

“Yes, who can hold them if they want to marry,” joked George unhappily.

“You can hold them already,” said Sigurd sullenly and looked up into the air. – strange! That was almost like a – a wink? It occurred to Georg that Sigurd once wanted to tell him something about Esther. Was that it? – He? Could he have her, could he hold her?

Sigurd had risen. “Goodbye, Georg,” he said, holding out his hand while he took his folder out of the chair with the other. “She’s coming here. Then I will not disturb you.”

“Goodbye, Sigurd.” Sigurd climbed the steps. “Maybe you try it yourself!” Georg called after him. Sigurd opened the door, said nothing, then said: “Oh, what!” And went out.

Georg was disturbed. Looking down, he suddenly spotted the colored ribbons on his chest, angrily grabbed the porcelain button in the back under the skirt that held them together, tugged at it angrier until it had finally torn off the ribbons, flung it out, clenched it and threw it on the table.

If tomorrow, he cursed, the scale would not be, I would go with her into the area, and never would she, never! – Oh, how distraught she was! Why? Why? He squatted in an armchair, put his forehead in his hands, and was afraid of the farewell hour. Yes, should I, I want, can I hold her? Oh God, do I love her now or not? –

There was Esther, Renate. There were Renate’s shoulders, the cursed festive evening, – his heart tightened. And then, when she came out of the garden early in the morning, Esther was barely visible behind a sheaf of exultant flowers, and he in the chair with his sprained foot, and the long, long days. And then this, was it stupid? She came in, and he thought: I love her in such a strange and harmless way, and will tell her now. There she stood in the doorway to the garden, smiling at him, and he nodded and laughed from his corner, and as she threw all the load of peonies or hollyhocks, or whatever it was, on the desk, he said no when he called her to her, took her hands and said, not without a strong heartbeat and the distinct feeling he should rather refrain: Just, little creature, I’ve thought something splendid. I love you as much as I’ve never had a human, in a very special way, what do you say to that? Are you right? A special shadow flew up on her face, a – yes, a smile, as it were, on stilts. She let go of his hands and said: Oh yes … She went to the flowers, picked one up, threw it down again, took another and smelt it, gathered the whole pile together and carried it into the dining-room.

And after that, a long, endless, breathless, terrible time, listening to her play and handling her, collecting vases, cutting off stalks, stepping out the door and over the water pipe, hearing the water rustling, dark, then brighter, ascending in the vessels, he sat and wrestled with the unknowable in his heart and finally said to himself, so that the time would pass, so also she, so she too, – completely pointless, and then: I was horribly uncouth. She did not know, and now she knows.

So she loved him? And wanted to go to America. Sigurd wanted to keep her, and he should get it. Yes, how did he say? She always loved somebody. So he thought that was a transition, also here with George, and in fact she loved him, her brother, and found him again and again. Yes, could they still look each other in the eye after he said that to her? No, but there was a wall of fear, danger and sweetness between him and her that prevented them from seeing each other unless they laughed or many people were present.

One day, he choked on, I saw Renate in a golden dress. The petticoat was strawberry-colored, with the outer garment open at the front and curving backwards, so that it blew lightly at the gait; it was like wing covers of golden, brownish silk, oh, and her neck, her neck! – But nevertheless, – if I wanted to formulate it, it would be like this: If Renate were less beautiful, then I would love her; but if Esther were less beautiful, I would not love her. That is to say, I love Renate like a beautiful object (for example, the Venus of Milo), and only the contingent of her female form and the sexual appeal reflect a true love-feeling. Esther, on the other hand, – yes, how can one only vary between the two? Esther was, oh she was clever and all sorts of things, but actually she was just a sweet creature, so sweet a creature that I am irresistibly tempted by it, from the brown stripes in the black hair, from the spot on the forehead where the hair starts and that Krause throws the barely visible shadow, from her neck, and the bend to her chin, and – and what would become of it? he closed slowly and got up.

He opened the garden door, stepped out into the open, and returned to the room, more excited, more anxious, waiting for her to come.

Renate, by all means, she had been created to a princely position and belonged to him. He took the small volume of the Odyssey from the table under the lamp, leafed through, searched and found the spot:

Kai tote dä Kronidäs afiei psoloenta keraunon,

Ka d’epese prosthe glaukoopidos obrimopatras;

Dä tot ‘Odysäa prosefä glaukoopis Athänä …

Half-tone he translated:

The Kronide threw down the sparkling lightning so that he shot down in front of the beam-eyed, the daughter of the supreme father. And to Odysseus spoke the ray-eyed Athena …

That was her. A goddess in human form, princess, ruler, wise adviser, a work of art. He closed the book, laid it down, and now Renate appeared to him in her white, summery pleated dress with a square neckline, a chain of rosy-white coral hanging low around her neck, beltless and with wide-open sleeves. So she stood in the chapel door as one Legendals, she sat on the organ, spread out, unleashing floating and vast voices, so she was, always worthy, always grace, always coolness, a beautiful wisdom in female form. Who did she remember? For a long time he brooded around in books, at last it dawned on him, his nursery appeared, and an old book, square, brown, worn, with vignettes, – by Richter? Richilde stood on a page in ornate script, a knight rode through a landscape, a pointed-bearded knight knelt in front of a whale, an elfin-like creature waving a veil of a large-leaved, stylized plant waved a young man behind a pair of beautiful, white bulls step, – Libussa. Georg pushed an armchair aside and brought the book down from a shelf, he recognized it joyfully, opened it, and after a few pauses and lingering, found the story of Libussa, the daughter of the elf, the future Duchess of Bohemia, who combined the three highest estates, wisdom, beauty, and wealth; and Libussa had awakened in him, as a boy, the feeling that now seemed to emanate from Renate: she had seemed too impeccable and unvarnished, too majestic, too passionate, especially toward the warlike publicists-yes, Esther still did not want to come ? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-ox to bring him and to her duke opened it and, after some leafing and lingering, found the story of Libussa, the daughter of the elf, the future Duchess of Bohemia, who combined the three highest estates, wisdom, beauty, and wealth; and Libussa had awakened in him, as a boy, the feeling that now seemed to emanate from Renate: she had seemed too impeccable and unvarnished, too majestic, too passionate, especially toward the warlike publicists-yes, Esther still did not want to come ? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-ox to bring him and to her duke opened it and, after some leafing and lingering, found the story of Libussa, the daughter of the elf, the future Duchess of Bohemia, who combined the three highest estates, wisdom, beauty, and wealth; and Libussa had awakened in him, as a boy, the feeling that now seemed to emanate from Renate: she had seemed too impeccable and unvarnished, too majestic, too passionate, especially toward the warlike publicists-yes, Esther still did not want to come ? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-ox to bring him and to her duke the Elf’s daughter, the later Duchess of Bohemia, who combined the three highest estates, wisdom, beauty, and wealth; and Libussa had awakened in him, as a boy, the feeling that now seemed to emanate from Renate: she had seemed too impeccable and unvarnished, too majestic, too passionate, especially toward the warlike publicists-yes, Esther still did not want to come ? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-ox to bring him and to her duke the Elf’s daughter, the later Duchess of Bohemia, who combined the three highest estates, wisdom, beauty, and wealth; and Libussa had awakened in him, as a boy, the feeling that now seemed to emanate from Renate: she had seemed too impeccable and unvarnished, too majestic, too passionate, especially toward the warlike publicists-yes, Esther still did not want to come ? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-ox to bring him and to her duke and Libussa had awakened in him, as a boy, the feeling that now seemed to emanate from Renate: she had seemed too impeccable and unvarnished, too majestic, too passionate, especially toward the warlike publicists-yes, Esther still did not want to come ? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-boy to bring him and to her duke and Libussa had awakened in him, as a boy, the feeling that now seemed to emanate from Renate: she had seemed too impeccable and unvarnished, too majestic, too passionate, especially toward the warlike publicists-yes, Esther still did not want to come ? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-boy to bring him and to her duke Esther still did not want to come? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-ox to bring him and to her duke Esther still did not want to come? When I read, he thought, she would be right here, sitting down and reading, and it turned out that that boyish feeling had been completely unjustified, for Libussa did not love Primislav, true to his life for seven years, and finally sent him her white body-ox to bring him and to her duke close? – A fairy tale, but with Renate and me it’s the other way around. – The following passage he read with pleasure:

“Libussa did not have the proud, vain sense of her sisters. Whether she possessed the same abilities to penetrate into the secrets of nature and to use her hidden powers, she was nevertheless satisfied with the share of the wonderful gifts from the maternal inheritance, without exaggerating them in order to proliferate. Her vanity stretched no further than consciousness of her well-being, she was not stingy about wealth, neither wanted to be honored nor feared like her sisters. When they darted about their country houses, hurrying from one rushing joy to the other, and binding the core of the Bohemian knighthood to their triumphal car, she remained at home in her father’s dwelling, led the regiment of households, gave the advice to the counselors, and offered friendly support to the oppressed and the pressly. and all for goodwill without pay. Her temper was gentle and modest, and her change was virtuous and gentle, as befits a noble maiden. ‘

He was also particularly pleased with this phrase: ‘With modest blush she took control of the people, and the magic of her wondrous sight subdued every heart.’

Oh heaven! he thought, sighing, if I’m a duke, will everything be different? Who is suited to the Duchess here, she or Esther? He almost laughed, barely pausing in time.

The light had changed outside, the shadows had become deeper and longer, Esther did not come. Georg, always afraid of what should or could come, stepped back into the garden door, calm, shaded by the setting sun, deep green with beautiful large spots of color, yellow, red, smooth brown, of birch, sycamore, and red oak the pure, redeemed heaven rested. In that she should no longer go about with her small, slightly broad feet, small-stepping, of which the right one in every fourth or fifth step slightly inward beat.

At that he heard the door behind her, Esther standing in it, very pale, in the dress he loved, of reddish-purple silk with gold trim on the neck and sleeves. She came up to him and shook his hand, as she used to do, approaching with a little advanced body, and muttered something like: Sigurd would have told him everything.

“When will the ship go?” Asked George.

“Wednesday.”

“And you only stay a few days in Hamburg?”

“Yes, I’m going on Sunday.” “And tomorrow,” said George dimly, “I must go back to Mensur.”

“Again?”

They had set in motion and slowly walked down the path. Georg lifted a hop-hop hanging over Esther’s head and thought: “If Sigurd said that she always loved somebody, that probably means that she will soon forget me – and in the meantime became involved in complicated explanations: that he his last shot had fought poorly in the past semester –

“Oh, when you walked around with the pillow for so long?” She asked with a smile. She meant the black piece over the gauze compress, which he had not been rid of the middle head for weeks to the secret mockery of all friends. He affirmed and continued: that the scale had been judged insufficient; that he had to fight for cleaning, and now it had been on holiday, while he had planned to leave this semester, and finally he would get such a sharp opponent tomorrow that – so that they are probably for the last time This seemed to have known her, because she answered nothing.

They were now standing by the dark moat; all around the autumn flamed, the most indescribable green, mixed with yellow, red-hot red, emperor-yellow fluttering high above the gilded blue of the air; whitish spirits blew even higher through the October sky. Oh, how lovely was her veiled, scurrying voice! – She said that she would find it very hard not to be able to go to this garden in the morning, and George muttered something unclear about California, palms and – also very nice … Then they sat down on the bench behind stood by them. Esther’s hands were in her lap.

George remembered how he felt her hand first in the glove, half lifeless, and how they had sat here with Jason, who took her glove off the bench and spoke of it. They were silent. No leaf fell. There was something in George’s ear, and a belated mosquito sat down on his hand, but it did not suck. There drove Esthers Left her with a fluttering motion that ended at her hair, and Georg said with an attempt to joke:

“And now such a little girl wants to go all alone across the big water?”

“Good Jason,” she said – this was her last smile! – “will bring me. Strange, not: I just met him, and he brought me here. When I asked him jokingly, he was ready, and in the utmost seriousness. He had long wanted to go to America, he said. ”

Now she will burst into tears, Georg thought, avoiding the sight of her face, but nevertheless, looking straight ahead, saw her profile beside her, a little bent forward, under tight hair, her forehead smooth, a little wrinkled, the cutaway, motionless eye , the immobile mouth. – Just to say something, he asked, “Why the good Jason?”

“I do not know,” she said after a while. “Once, I remember, he wanted to put a book on the table, and it fell off. He said with a start: “Excuse me, book! – I had to laugh so. ”

“Yes, he is with all things that can not help themselves, as with small children. Do you know anything about his life? ”

“No, nothing at all.”

“I was there,” said George softly, “when he tried to kill himself twice, and yet I believe that this was not the worst in his life. He is not very long as he is now. ”

Did she actually hear what he said?

“You know,” she began after a while, – “but you must not laugh, – no, I mean – – you must not take too seriously – -”

“Whatever you like, Esther.”

She was silent.

“Do you want to keep it to yourself, then -” he hesitated – “take it to America.”

“Oh!” She gasped, leaning forward and looking up.

“Beautiful is the autumn,” she said, then calmed down, “the gentle divorce.”

“Yes, it means well with us.”

Suddenly his heart tightened, he searched for indifferent things, found nothing and begged:

“What did you want to say?” Heading forward like she did, he looked at her now and realized that her face had turned cold and pale inside.

“I wanted to say,” she spoke very slowly and without emphasis, “it must be good to die at the right time. I believe death – I mean: dying, the last moment gives man a clarity, a knowledge, quite certain, about life and death. That can be good or very painful. And the good thing would be to die at the right time. ”

She had spoken very softly and in a harsh, breathtaking voice, and George, though he fought, could not stop to go deeper and ask, “Esther, are we so sad that we have to speak of dying instead of a divorce? ? ”

She stood up, shrugged as if to throw something away, and said, “I must go.”

Beyond the ditch stood a young red oak, richly hung with large, jagged leaves, red as new copper, and so solitary that they could be counted; in the bluish dark water below hung her reflection, in reverse, darkened. To us, Georg thought with a strange sensation, the silent tree is visible from across the way, and now he felt as if he himself and she – in the beautiful purple dress with golden braid and in the dark green suit – like two Decorated spirits in an Elysian area, holding world-wide dialogue. But turning around, he found Esther no longer beside her, and saw her already far away among the green bushes, down the road to a troop of tall, withered sunflowers and black-red dahlias; her walk was nothing but a necessary move of her feet,

He was shivering with ice coldness, trembling, but he knew that he was capable of saying the simplest pleasantries, even talking insignificantly, asking them to take something to remember. She moved her head slowly back and forth. Immediately after, he sank down low, her eyebrows tightened as brooding, but it was something else, and he could not look at it and approached Writing desk. Leaning his back against the plate, he saw her head slowly rise again; she stood upright and looked at him without smiling. Now it comes! he thought in the frost, what should I do now? What is she asking behind her forehead?

It occurred to him, “But if it is all imagination? Yes, how, if she is not so despondent because of me, but because of Sigurd? Should I be so foolish? It was almost easier for him; he thought: so it must have happened …

“Esther,” he said, not to mention not to mention – –

And she came. He took her frostbitten hands and put them on his chest. She stayed, she would stay, she had to, he could not spare her. – So he looked into her eyes, saw the pretty eyebrows close up, saw tiny his own face, very little swollen in this, in that blackish pupil, and the reflexes of the light, saw the small blackish hairs at the corners of his mouth and had to lips press on it. His eyes closed. Oh, how sweet was that mouth! O not alien how – how – –

Then his eyes opened again, she had stepped back, he saw her go to the chair, a flat, gray hat lay on it with green leaves and black roses, she picked it up. Yes, did something else have to do – – did he have to do something else -? He saw her putting on her hat, fixing the needles, and there was a jacket she was going to put on, and he almost forgot to help her. Once again, as he slipped the collar of her dress into his jacket, touched her neck, he saw her hair bun, softly looped, very close, but that was no longer true, and she turned and shook his hand, and he said: “Farewell!”

The sobs rose in his throat, she said nothing, went to the stairs, the room circled, something sounded hard, Esther was no longer in the room.

Esther’s face appeared at a railroad window over a landscape of pastures. it was written: dreary. George brought his hands to his face, braced himself, shook his head, took a cigarette from the smoke-table, broke a match, another, another, finally took the first draft and sat down.

Yes, he said, yes, yes …

It was not with intent that George became intoxicated that evening, that is, he did not sit down to drink himself with the intention of getting drunk, but it happened. Quid quod, he said in the last bright minute, that’s a Latin saying and is roughly: What can one say to that? Some time later he cried a great deal at the throat of his body-boy, who also wept, and again a time later he awoke in his bed with a gigantic head and without thinking, unconsciously did the bathing and dressing necessary in the morning, sat a few hours, just a bare broth in the stomach, around the menuren, by the way, a little full of disgust, a little full of anger and a little full of embarrassment, whereupon he let himself be bandaged, violently disgusted by the wet, warm, after blood, sweat and ether stinking bandages at the neck. Poor Tozzi, Teeth clenching as the iron goggles pressed against his nose and sneezed. Then he stood there and worked clumsily with the bat, soon felt how the blood trickled from his head, there was a break, he sat, stood again, there were endless pauses, he was buzzing and ran, he heard a whisper: let you prefer to pay off! – but he did not want that. The spear was struck away from him, once again struck, he staggered and staggered with every blow, and then stood, his head down, from which the blood ran down, like rinse water so thin with alcohol. Dull anger kept him upright, but he grew wearier and lethargic; he seemed to take a break after every walk; he drank water, drank cognac; he became miserable for vomiting, and then, still sitting on his chair, found that his blood was gone ran. And what was that with his heart? That made leaps! Polite, inquisitive, somewhat compassionate faces bowed from all sides, he heard again the voice of the second from far away: So one more corridor, go on! Stood up, wavering, heard the words high above her: Loroborussia left after thirteen minutes, and lost her senses.

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