Chapter 20

December 23rd. I have still a frightful lot to do for Christmas, but I must write to-day. There was a ring at the front door this morning at about half past 11. I thought it must be Hella come to fetch me, that she must be all right again, so I rushed out, tore the door open, prepared to greet Hella, and then I was simply kerblunxed, for there was a gentleman standing who asked most politely: Is anyone at home? I knew him in a moment, it was that Dr. Pruckmuller from Fieberbr. Meanwhile Dora had opened the drawing-room door, and now came the great proof of deceitfulness: She was _not in the least_ surprised, but said: “Ah, Dr. Pruckmuller, I am so glad you have kept your word.” So it was plain that he had promised her to come, and I am practically sure she knew he was coming _to-day_, for she was wearing her best black silk apron with the insertions, such as we only wear when visitors are expected. What a humbug she is! So I went into the drawing-room too. Then Aunt Dora came in and asked him to supper this evening. Then he went away. All the time he had not said a word to me, it seemed as if he had not even noticed that there was such a person as me in the world Not until he was actually leaving did he say: “Well; Fraulein, how are you?” “Oh well,” said I, “I’m much as anyone can expect to be so soon after Mother’s death.” Dora got as red as fire, for she understood. I shall know how to treat him _if_ he becomes my brother-in-law. But that may be a long way off; for he lives in Innsbruck, and Father is not likely to allow Dora to marry away to Innsbruck. At dinner I hardly said a word, I was so enraged at this deceitfulness. But there is more to come. At 7, or whatever time it was, Dr. Pruckmuller turned up. Dora appeared in a white blouse with a black bow, and had remained in her room till the last minute so that I might not know what she was wearing. For I had believed she would wear her black dress with the insertions, and so I was wearing mine. Oh well, that did not matter. At supper he talked all the time to Dora, so I purposely talked to Oswald. Then he said that on March 1st he was going to be transferred to Vienna. Once more Dora was not in the least astonished, so _she must have known all about it!_ But now I remember quite well that in October the postman handed me a letter for her with the Innsbruck postmark. So she was _corresponding with him openly the whole time_, less than 6 months after Mother’s death. It really is too bad! But when I was chattering about the country, she kicked me under the table as a hint not to laugh so frightfully. And when my brother-in-law in spe, oh how it does make me laugh, two or three years ago, in Goisern I think it was, we used to call Dora Inspe, because she had said of Robert Warth and me: The bridal pair in spe! And now she is in the same position. When he went away in the evening I was trembling lest Father should invite him to the Christmas tree, but thank goodness when Father asked: “What are you doing with yourself to-morrow,” he answered: “To-morrow I am spending the day with my sister’s family, she is married to a captain out Wieden way.” Thank goodness that came to nothing, for we are not at all in the mood for visitors, especially the first Christmas without Mother. And if she knew -- -- -- I wish I knew what really happens to the soul. Of course I gave up believing in Heaven long ago; but the soul must go somewhere. There are so many riddles, and they make one so unhappy; in a newspaper feuilleton the other day I saw the title of a chapter: _The Riddle of Love_. But _this_ riddle does not make people sad, as one can see by Dora. Anyhow, all girls, that is all elder sisters, seem alike in this respect. I remember what Hella told me about Lizzi’s engagement. It is true, she had first made his acquaintance in London, not at home; but there was just the same deceitfulness. What on earth does it mean? Would it not be much more kindly and reasonable to tell your sister _everything_? Otherwise how can anyone expect one to be an ally. Oh well, _I_ don’t care, I’m not going to let my Christmas Eve be disturbed by a thing _like that_; if one can call it a _Christmas Eve_ at all. On Boxing Day, when he is to spend the evening here, I shall tell Hella that I want to come to her and her grandmother. After all, I am glad she has stayed in Vienna.

December 25th. Christmas Eve was _very_ melancholy. We all three got Mother’s picture, life size in beautiful green frames, for our rooms. Dora sobbed out loud, and so I cried too and went up to Father and put my arms around him. His eyes were quite wet; for he adored Mother. Only Oswald did not actually cry, but he kept on biting his lips. I was so glad that Dr. P. was not there, for it is horribly disagreeable to cry before strangers. We _both_ got lovely white guipure blouses, not lace blouses, then Aunt gave me a splendid album for 500 postcards, and she also gave me an anthology which I had asked for. Brahms’ Hungarian Dances, because Dora would not lend me hers last year because she said they were too difficult for me; as if _that_ were any business of hers; surely my music mistress is a better judge; then some writing paper with my monogram, a new en-tout-cas with everything complete, and hair ribbons and other trifles. Father was awfully delighted with Mother’s portrait; of course we had not known that he was getting us life-size portraits of Mother, and from the last photograph of the winter before last we had quite a small likeness painted by Herr Milanowitz, who is a painter, and who knew Mother very well--in colour of course. And we got a lovely rococo frame to close up; when it is open it looks as if Mother were looking out of the window. That was _my_ idea, and Herr Milanowitz thought it _most original_. Dora considered it very awkward that he would not take any money for it, but it made it possible for us to get a much more elegant frame. After Christmas; for New Year, we are going to send Herr M. some of the best cigars, bought with _our own_ money, I wanted to send them for Christmas, but we don’t know anything about cigars, and we did not want to tell anyone because one can never know whether one won’t be betrayed and you will be told it is unintentional; but that is not true, for when one betrays anything one has always secretly intended to do so; and then one says it was a slip of the tongue; but one really knows all the time. I can’t write down all the extra things that Dora got, only one of them: At 7 o’clock just when Father was lighting the candles on the tree, a commissionaire brought some lovely roses with two sprays of mistletoe interwoven and beneath a nosegay of violets -- -- -- of course from Dr. P. with a card, but she would not let anyone read that. All she said was: “Dr. P. sends everyone Christmas greetings; I believe he had really written: _Merry_ Christmas,” but Dora did not dare to say _that_. Oh, and Hella gave me a bead bag, and I gave her a purse with the double eagle on it, for she wanted a purse that would have a military look. I never knew anyone with such an enthusiasm for the army as Hella; certainly I think officers look awfully smart; but surely it’s going too far when she feels that other men practically don’t exist. The others have to learn a lot, for example doctors, lawyers, mining engineers, not to speak of students at the College of Agriculture, for perhaps these last “hardly count” (that’s the phrase Hella is always using); but all of them have to learn a great deal more than officers do; Hella never will admit that, and always begins to talk of the officers of the general staff; as if they _all_ belonged to the general staff! We have often argued about it. Still, I do hope she will get an officer for her husband, of course one who is well enough off to marry, for otherwise it’s no go; for Father says the Bruckners have no private means. It’s true he always says that of us too, but I don’t believe it; we are not so to say rich, but I fancy we should both of us have enough money for an officer to be able to marry us. Anyhow, Dora voluntarily renounces that possibility, _if_ she is really going to marry Dr. P.

27th. Well, I went to Hella’s yesterday and stayed till 9, and on Christmas Day she was here. I see that I wrote above that the Bs. were not well off; it seems to me to be very much the reverse. We always get a great many things and very nice ones at Christmas and on our birthdays and name days (of course Protestants don’t have these last), but we don’t give one another such splendid things as the Bs. do. Hella had been given a piece of rose-coloured silk for a dress to wear at the dancing class which must have cost at least 50 crowns, and a lace collar and cuffs, which we had seen at the shop, and it had cost 24 crowns, then she had a gold ring with an emerald, and a number of smaller things which she never even looked at. And to see all the things her sister got, things for her _trousseau!_ And the Bs. Christmas tree cost 12 crowns whilst ours cost only 7, though ours was just as good. So I think that the Bs. really have plenty of money, and I said to Hella: “You must be enormously rich.” And she said: “Oh well, not so rich as all that; I must not expect to marry an officer on the general staff. Lizzi has done very well for herself for Paul is a baron and is very well off. He is frantically in love with her; queer taste, isn’t it?” I quite agree, for Lizzi has not much to boast of in the way of looks, beautiful fair hair, but she is so awfully thin, not a trace of b -- --, Hella has much more figure. And if one hasn’t any by the time one is 20 one is not likely to get one.

Something awfully funny happened to-day. Hella asked me: “I say, what’s the Christian name of that Dr. who is dangling after your sister?” Then it struck me for the first time that on his visiting card he only has Dr. jur. A. Pruckmuller, and then I remembered that last summer, when we first made his acquaintance, Dora said, It’s a pity he’s called August, the name does not suit him at all. Well, we laughed till we felt quite ill, for of course Hella began to sing: “O du lieber Augustin,” and then I thought of Der dumme August [clown’s nickname in circus] and we wondered what Dora would call him. Gusti or Gustel, or Augi, my darling Augi, my beloved Gusterl, oh dear, we were in fits of laughter. Then we discussed what names we should like to have for our husbands, and I said: Ewald or Leo, and Hella said: Wouldn’t you like Siegfried? But I put my hand on her mouth and said: “Shut up, or you will make me really angry, _that_ is and must remain forgotten.” She said what she would like best would be to have a husband called Peter or Thamian or Chrysostomus; then for a pet name she would use Dami or Sosti; and then she said quite seriously that she would only marry a man called Egon, or Alexander, or at least Georg. Just at that moment her mother came in to call us to tea, and she said: “What’s an that about Alexander and Georg? You are such dreadful girls. If you are alone together for a couple of minutes (I had come at half past 2 and the Brs. have tea at 4, and that’s what Hella’s mother calls 2 minutes), you begin to talk of unsuitable things.” Hella was afraid her mother would think God knows what, so she said: “Oh no, Mother, we were only discussing what names we should like our fiances to have.” You ought to have seen how her mother went on. “That’s just it, that when you are barely 15 (I’m not 15 yet) you should have nothing but _such_ things in your heads!” _Such_ things, how absurd. At tea it was almost as dull as it was the other evening at home; for the Herr Baron was there, that is, they all say Du to one another now, for the wedding is to be in February, as soon as it is settled whether the Baron is to stay in London or to be transferred to Berlin. It must be funny to say “Du” to a strange man. Hella says she soon got used to it, and that she likes Paul well enough. When he brings Lizzi sweets, when he is taking her to the theatre, he always gives Hella a box for herself. _Other_ people would certainly not do that, and I know _other_ people who wouldn’t accept it. When I got home, Father said: Well, another time I think you’d better stay and sleep at the Brs., and I said: I did not want to be a killjoy here. And Oswald said: “What you need is a box on the ear,” Father was luckily out of the room already and so I said: “_Your_ children, if you ever have any, can be kept in order by boxing their ears till they are green and blue, but you have no rights over your sisters, Father told you so in Fieberbrunn.” “Oh, I know Father always backs you two up, he has done so from the first.” “Please don’t draw me into your quarrels,” said Dora, as if she had been something quite different from me. And then Aunt Dora said: “I do wish you would not keep on quarreling.” “_I_ didn’t begin it,” said I, and went away without saying goodnight; that is I went to Father’s room to say goodnight to him and I saw Aunt Dora in the hall, but I _didn’t_ say goodnight to Oswald and Dora, for I’m not going to put up with _everything_. And now it’s half past 11 already, for I have been writing such a long time, and have cried such a lot, for I’m _very_ unhappy. Even Hella doesn’t know how unhappy I am. I must go to bed now; whether I shall sleep or not is another question. If I can possibly manage it, I shall go alone to the cemetery to-morrow.

31st. Hella and I went to the cemetery to-day. Her father and mother returned to Cracow yesterday evening, and she told her grandmother she was going to spend the morning with me, and I said I was going to the Brs., so we went alone to Potzleinsdorf. Hella went for a walk round the cemetery while I went to darling Mother’s grave. I am so unhappy; Hella consoles me as much as she can, but even she can’t understand.

January 1, 19--! Of course we did not keep New Year’s Eve yesterday, but were quite alone and it was very melancholy. This morning Dr. P. brought Dora and Aunt Dora some roses and he gave me some lovely violets as a New Year’s greeting. He is leaving on the 4th, so he is coming here on the evening of the 3rd. I can’t say I look forward to it. To-morrow school begins thank goodness. I met a dust cart, that means good luck; Father says it is a scandal the way the dirt carts go on all through the day in Vienna, and that one should see one even on New Year’s day at 2 in the afternoon. But still, if it means _good luck!_

January 2nd. The dust cart did bring good luck. We had a real piece of _luck_ to-day! In the big interval I noticed a little knot of girls in the hall, and suddenly I felt as if my heart would stop beating. Frau Doktor M., I should say Frau Professor Theyer, was standing among them, she saw us directly and held out her hand to us so we kissed it. She has come to visit her parents and _her husband_ is with her; since she did not know for certain whether she would be able to come to the school she had not written either to me or to Hella about it. She is so lovely and so entrancingly loveable. When the bell rang for class and Frau Doktor Dunker came in I saw that _she_ was still standing outside. So I put my handkerchief up to my face as if my nose were bleeding, and rushed out to her. And because I slipped and nearly fell, she held out her arms to me. Hardly had I reached her, when Hella came out and said: “Of course I understood directly; I said you were awfully bad, so I must go and look after you.” Then the Frau Professor laughed like anything and said: “You are such wicked little actresses; I must send you back immediately.” But of course she did not but was frightfully sweet. Then we begged her to let us stay with her, but she said: “No, no, I’ve been your teacher here, and I must not encourage you in mischief. But here is a better idea. Would you like to come and see me to-morrow?” “Rather,” we both exclaimed. She said she was staying in a hotel, but we must not come alone to a hotel, so she would see us at her parents, in Schwindgasse, and we were to come there at 4 or half past. Then we kissed both her hands and were so happy! To-morrow at 4! Oh dear, a whole night more and nearly a whole day to wait. “If your parents allow you,” she said; as if Father or even Hella’s grandmother would not allow _that!_ All Father said was: “All right Gretel, but don’t go quite off your head first or you won’t be able to find your way to Schwindgasse. Is Hella as crazy as you are?” Of course, how can one be otherwise?

January 3rd. Still 2 hours, it’s awful, Hella is coming to fetch me at half past 3. In school to-day we kept on looking at one another, and all the other girls thought it must be something to do with a man. Goodness, what do we care about a man now! We had a splendid idea, that we had just time to make a memento for _her_, since she does not leave until the evening of the 5th. I am having traced on a piece of yellow silk for a book marker an edelweiss and her monogram E. T., the new one of course. Hella is painting a paperknife in imitation of tarsia mosaic. I would rather have done something of that sort too, but I have no patience for such work, so I often spoil it before I’ve finished. But one can’t very well spoil a piece of embroidery. But I shan’t get the tracing on the silk back from the shop until half past 3, so I shall have to work all night and the whole day to-morrow.

Evening. Thank goodness and confound it, whichever way you like to take it, the idiot at the shop had forgotten about the bookmarker and I shan’t get it until to-morrow morning early. So I’m able to write now: It was heavenly! We had to walk up and down in front of her house for at least half an hour, until at last it was 5 minutes past 4. She was so sweet to us! She wanted to say Sie to us, but we _simply would not have it_, and so she said Du as she used to. We talked of all sorts of things, I don’t know what, only that I suddenly burst out crying, and then she drew me to her b -- --, no, I can’t write that about her; she drew me to herself and than I felt _her heart beating!_ and went almost crazy. Hella says that I put both my arms round her neck, but I’m sure that’s all imagination, for I should never have dared. She has such fascinating hands, and the _wedding ring_ glistens so on her divine ring finger. Of course we talked about the school, and then she suddenly said: Tell me what really happened about those compositions, when half the class deliberately refrained from putting any punctuation marks. “Oh,” we said, “that is a frightful cram, it wasn’t _half_ the class, but only 6 of us who have a special veneration for you.” Then we told her how it all came about. She laughed a little, and said: “Well, girls, you did not do me any particular _service_. It really was a great piece of impertinence.” But I said: “Prof. Fritsch’s remarks were 10 times more impertinent, for they related to another member of the staff, and what was worse to you.” Then she said: “My darling girls, that often happens in life, that the absent are given a bad reputation, whether justly or unjustly; one is liable to that in every profession.” Hella said that the head mistress was not like that or there would have been a frightful row, since the matter had become known in all the High Schools of Vienna. Then Frau Doktor M. said: “Yes, the Frau Direktorin is really a splendid woman.” Then there came something glorious, or really 2 glorious things: (1). She gave us some magnificent sweets, better than I have ever eaten before. Hella agrees, and we are really connoisseurs in the matter of sweets. The second thing, even more glorious, was this: after we had been there some time, there was a knock at the door and in came _her_ husband, the Herr Prof., and said: “How are you my treasure?” and to us: “Goodday, young _ladies_.” Then she introduced us, saying: “Two of my best-loved pupils and my most faithful adherents.” Then the Herr Prof. laughed a great deal and said: “That can’t be said of all pupils.” So I said quickly: “Oh yes, it can be said of Frau Doktor, the whole class would go through fire for her.” Then he went away, and she said: “Excuse me for a moment,” and we could hear quite plainly that _he kissed her_ in the next room, and then she said as she came in again: “Oh well, be off with you, Karl, goodbye.” It’s a pity his name is Karl, it’s so prosaic, and he calls her Lise, and I expect when they are alone he calls her Lieschen, since he is a North German. I must go to bed, it’s half past 11 already. To be continued to-morrow. Sleep well, my sweet glorious ecstatic golden and only treasure! God, I am so happy.

January 6th. Thank goodness to-day is a holiday, and we can’t go tobogganing because Dora has a _chill!!!_ I got the bookmarker on the 4th, worked at it all day and up till midnight, and yesterday I got up at half past 5, went on working the whole morning, and at 2 o’clock we took our mementoes to the house. Though we should have liked to give them to her ourselves, we didn’t, but only gave them to the maid. She said: Shall I show you in? but Hella said: “No, thank you, we don’t want to disturb Frau Theyer, and when I reproached her for this she said: Oh no, it was better not; you are quite upset anyhow, you know what _she_ said: But my dear child, you will make yourself ill; you must not do that on _my_ account!” Oh dear, I’m crying so that I can hardly write, but I _must_ write, for there is still so much that’s glorious to put down, things that I must never, never forget, even if it should take me a week to write. The great thing is that I shall simply live upon this memory, and the only thing I want in life is that I may see _her_ once more. Of course we took her some flowers on Friday, I lilies of the valley with violets and tuberoses, and Hella Christmas roses. She was delighted, and went directly to fetch 2 vases which her mother brought in. She is as small as Frau Richter, and her hair is grey, she is charming; but she is not in the least like Frau Doktor M. When we said goodbye she offered us still more sweets, but since we were both nearly crying already we did not want to take any more, but she wrapped them nearly all up for us, saying: “To console you in your sorrow.” From anyone else it might have sounded ironical, but from her it was simply lovely. There were 17 large sweets, and Hella gave me 9 of them and took only 8 for herself. I shall eat only one every day, so that they will last me 9 days. _Joy and sorrow combined!!_ Hella is not so frightfully in love as I am, and yesterday she said, in joke of course: “It seems to me that your whole world is foundered; I must pull you out, or you’ll be drowned.” And then she asked me how I could have been so stupid as to use the word _honeymoon_ to _her_, although she hemmed to warn me. She said it really was utterly idiotic of me, and that the Frau Prof. blushed. I did not notice it myself, but when her _husband_ came in, she certainly did flush up like anything. Hella and I talked of quite a lot of _other things of that sort_. I should so much have liked to ask her whether she has given up going to church, for I think the Herr Prof. really is a Jew, though he does not _look_ like one. For lots of other men wear black beards. But I did not venture to ask, and Hella thinks it is a very good thing I did not, for one _does not talk about such things_. I wonder _whether she will have a baby_? Oh, it would be horrible. Of course she may have entered into a _marriage_ contract, that would have been the best way. However, Hella thinks that the professor would not have agreed to anything of the kind. But surely if he was frantically in love with her . . .