Chapter 4

December 5th. We are in such a funk: Hella and I and Edith Bergler have taken the Krampus which we bought for Frau Doktor M. and put it on her doorstep. Edith Bergler knew where she lived for she comes by there every day on her way to school. I wonder if she’ll guess where the Krampus comes from. I did not know that Edith Bergler was such a nice girl, I always thought she must be deceitful because she wears spectacles. But now I’m quite certain she is not deceitful, so one sees how easy it is to make a mistake. To-morrow’s our German lesson.

December 6th. Frau Doktor did not say anything at first. Then she gave out the subject for the essay: “Why once I could not go to sleep at night.” The girls were all taken aback, and then Frau Doktor said: Now girls that’s not so very difficult. One person cannot go to sleep because he’s just going to be ill, another because he is excited by joy or fear. Another has an uneasy conscience because he has done something which he has been forbidden to do; have not all of you experienced something of the kind? Then she looked frightfully hard at Edith Bergler and us two. She did not say anything more, so we don’t really know if she suspects. I couldn’t go to the ice carnival yesterday because I had such a bad cough, and Dora couldn’t go either because she had a headache; I don’t know whether it was a real headache or _that kind_ of headache; but I expect it was that kind.

December 17th. I haven’t managed to write anything for a whole week. The day before yesterday we had our Christmas reports: In history I had satisfactory, in Natural History good, in everything else very good. In diligence because of that stupid Vischer I had only a 2. Father was very angry; he says everyone can get a 1 in diligence. That’s true enough, but if one has satisfactory in anything then one can’t get a 1 for diligence. Inspee of course had only 1’s, except a 2 in English. But then she’s a frightful swot. Verbenowitsch is the best in our class, but we can’t any of us bear her, she’s so frantically conceited and Berta Franke says she’s _not to be trusted_. Berta walks to school with her cousin who’s in the seventh; she’s nearly 14, and is awfully pretty. She didn’t say what sort of a report she had, but I believe it was a very bad one.

December 18th. To-day at supper Dora fainted because she found a little chicken in her egg, not really a chicken yet, but one could make out the wings and the head, just a sketch of a chicken Father said. Still, I really can’t see what there was to faint about. Afterwards she said it had made her feel quite creepy. And she’ll never be able to eat another egg. At first Father was quite frightened and so was Mother, but then he laughed and said: What a fuss about nothing! She had to go and lie down at once and I stayed downstairs for a long time. When I came up to our room she was reading, that is I saw the light through the crack in the door; but when I opened the door it was all dark and when I asked: Ah so you’re still reading she didn’t answer and she pretended to wake up when I switched on the light and said: What’s the matter? I can’t stand such humbug so I said: Shut up, you know quite well it’s 9 o-clock. That’s all. On our way to school to-day we didn’t Speak a word to one another. Luckily after awhile we met a girl belonging to her class.

December 19th. I’m frightfully excited to know what I’m going to get for Christmas. What I’ve wished for is: A set of white furs, boa, muff, and velvet cap trimmed with the same fur, acme skates because mine are always working loose, _German_ sagas, not Greek; no thank you, hair ribbons, openwork stockings, and if possible a gold pin like the one Hella got for a birthday present. But Father says that our Christ Child would find that rather too expensive. Inspee wants a corset. But I don’t think she’ll get one because it’s unhealthy. The tablecloth for Father is finished and is being trimmed, but Mother’s book cover is not quite ready yet. I’m giving Dora a little manicure case. Oh, and I’d nearly forgotten what I want more than anything else, a lock-up box in which to keep my diary. Dora wants some openwork stockings too and three books. A frightful thing happened to me the other day. I left one of the pages of my diary lying about or lost one somehow or other. When I came home Inspee said: “you’ve lost _this_, haven’t you? School notes I suppose?” I didn’t notice what it was for a moment, but then I saw by the look of it and said: Yes, those are school notes. Hm-m-m, said Inspee, not exactly that are they? You can thank your stars that I’ve not shown them to Mother. Besides people who can’t spell yet really ought not to keep diaries. It’s not suitable for children. I was in a wax. In the closet I took a squint to see what mistakes I had made. There was only _wenn_ with one _n_ instead of double _n_ and _dass_ with short _ss’s_, that’s all. I was jolly glad that there was nothing about _her_ on the page. She’d underlined the _n_ and the short _ss’s_ with red, just as if she was a schoolmistress, infernal cheek! The best would be to have a book with a lock to it, which one could alway keep locked, then no one could read any of it and underline one’s mistakes in red. I often write so fast that it’s easy to make a slip now and again. As if she never made a mistake. The whole thing made me furious. But I can’t say anything about it because of Mother, at least on the way to school; but no, if I say nothing at all then she always gets more waxy than ever. If I were to say much about it Mother might remember those 5 pages I lost in the country and I’d rather not thank you.

December 22nd. Aunt Dora came to-day. She’s going to stay with us for a time till Mother is quite well again. I didn’t remember her at all, for I was only four or five when she went away from Vienna. You dear little black beetle she said to me and gave me a kiss. I didn’t like the _black_ much, but Hella says that suits me, that it’s _piquant_. _Piquant_ is what the officers always say of her cousin in Krems, Father says she is a beauty, and she’s dark like me. But I’d rather be fair, fair with brown eyes or better still with violet eyes. Shall I grow up a beauty? Oh I do hope I shall!

December 23rd. I am frightfully excited about to-morrow. I wonder what I shall get? Now I must go and decorate the Christmas tree. Inspee said: Hullo, is _Gretl_ going to help decorate this year? She’s never done it before! I should like to know why not. But Aunt Dora took my side. “Of course she’ll help decorate too; but please don’t stuff yourselves with sweets.” “If Dora doesn’t eat anything I shan’t either,” said I promptly.

Evening. Yesterday was our last day at school. The holidays are from the 23rd to January 2nd. It’s glorious. I shall be able to go skating every day. Of course I had no time to-day and shan’t have to--morrow. I wonder whether I should send the Gold Fairy a Christmas card. I wish she had a prettier name. Anastasia Klastoschek; it is so ugly. All Czech names are so ugly. Father knows a Count Wilczek, but a still worse name is Schafgotsch. Nothing would induce me to marry anyone called Schafgotsch or Wilczek even if he were a count and a millionaire. Yesterday we paid our respects to the staff, Verbenowitsch and I went to Frau Doktor because she is fondest of us, or is _said_ to be. Nobody wanted to go to Professor Rigl, Igel, we always say Nikel, for when he has respects paid to him he always says: “Aw ri’.” But it would have been rude to leave him out and so the monitors had to go. When Christmas was drawing near Frau Doktor told us that we were none of us to give presents to the staff. “I beg you, girls, to bear in mind what I am saying, for if you do not there will only be trouble. You remember what happened on St. Nicholas’ day. And you must not send anything to the homes of the staff, nor must the Christ Child leave anything on any one’s doorstep.” As she said this she looked hard at me and Edith Bergler, so she knows who left the Krampus. I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open. Hurrah, to-morrow is Christmas Eve!!!

December 24th. Christmas Eve afternoon is horrid. One does not know what to be at. I’m not allowed to go skating so the best thing is to write. Oswald came home yesterday. Everyone says he’s looking splendid; I think he’s awfully pale and he snorted when everyone said he had such a fine colour; of course, how can he look well when he has such a _heartache_. I wish I could tell him that I understand what he feels, but he’s too proud to accept sympathy from me. He has wished for an army revolver for Christmas, but I don’t think he’ll get one for boys at the middle school are not allowed to have any firearms. Not long ago at a Gymnasium in Galicia one of the boys shot a master out of revenge; they said it was because the boy was getting on badly with his work, but really it was about a girl, although the master was 36 years old. This morg. I was in town with Oswald shopping; we met the Warths, Elli and . . . Robert. Oswald said that Elli was quite nice-looking but that Robert was an ugly beast. Besides, he can’t stand him he said, because he glared at me so. If only he knew what happened in the summer! I was awfully condescending to Robert and that made him furious. If one could only save you girls from all the troubles which the world calls “Love,” said Oswald on the way home. I was just going to say “I know that you’re unhappy in love and I can feel for you,” when Inspee came round the corner of the Bognergasse with her chum and 2 officers were following them, so none of them saw us. “Great Scott, Frieda’s full-fledged now,” said Oswald, “she’s a little tart.” I can’t stand that sort of vulgarity so I did not say another word all the way home. He noticed and said to Mother: “Gretl’s mouth has been frozen up from envy.” That’s all. But it was really disgusting of him and now I know what line to take.

Just a moment for a word or two. The whole Christmas Eve has gone to pot. A commissionaire came with a bouquet for Dora and Father is fuming. I wish I knew who sent it. I wonder if it was one of those 2 officers? Of course Inspee says she has not the ghost of an idea. What surprises me is that Oswald has not given her away. All he said was: I say, what a lark! But Father was down on him like anything, “You hold your jaw and think of your own beastly conduct.” I didn’t envy him; I don’t think much of Dora’s looks myself, but apparently she pleases _someone_. In the bouquet there was a poem and Dora got hold of it quickly before Father had seen it. It was awfully pretty, and it was signed: One for whom you have made Christmas beautiful! The heading is: “The Magic Season.” I think Dora’s splendid not to give herself away; even to me she declares she does not know who sent it; but of course that may be all humbug. I think it really comes from young Perathoner, with whom she’s always skating.

December 28th. I’ve had absolutely no time to write. I got everything I wanted. Aunt Dora gave both of us an opera glass in mother-of-pearl in a plush case. We are going to all the school performances, Father’s arranged it; he has subscribed to _all_ the performances during the school year 19-- to 19--. I am so delighted for Frau Doktor M. will come too. I do hope I shall sit next to her.

December 31st. To-day I wanted to read through all I have written, but I could not manage it but in the new year I really must write every day.

January 1st, 19--. I must write a few sentences at least. For the afternoon we had been invited to the Rydberg’s the Warths were there and Edle von Wernhoff!! I was just the same as usual with Lisel but I would not say a word to R. They left before us, and then Heddy asked me what was wrong between me and R. He had said of me: Any one can have the _black goose for me_. Then he said that any one could take me in. I was so stupid that I would believe anything. I can’t think what he meant, for he never took me in about anything. Anyhow I would not let _him_ spoil new year’s day for me. But Hella is quite right for if the first person one meets on January 1st is a common person that’s a bad beginning. The first thing this morning when I went out I met our old postman who’s always so grumpy if he’s kept waiting at the door. I looked the other way directly and across the street a fine young gentleman was passing, but it was no good for the common postman had really been the first.

January 12th. I am so angry. _We_ mayn’t go skating any more because Inspee has begun to complain again of her silly old ears and Mother imagines that she got her earache last year skating. It’s all right to keep _her_ at home; but why shouldn’t _I_ go? How can _I_ help it when _she_ gets a chill so easily? In most things Father is justice itself, but I really can’t understand him this time. It’s simply absurd, only it’s too miserable to call it absurd. I’m in a perfect fury. Still, I don’t say anything.

February 12th. I have not written for a whole month, I’ve been working so hard. To-day we got our reports. Although I’ve been working so frightfully hard, again I only got a 2 in Diligence. Frau Doktor M. made a splendid speech and said: As you sow, so you shall reap. But that’s not always true. In Natural History I did not know my lesson twice but I got a 1, and in History I only did not know my lesson once and I got Satisfactory. Anyhow Fraulein V. does not like me because of that time when I did not bow to her in the tram. That is why in January, when Mother asked about me, she said: “She does not really put her back into her work.” I overheard Father say: After all she’s only a kid, but to-day he made a frightful row about the 2 in Diligence. He might have known why she gave me that. Dora, _so she says_, has only ones, but she has not shown me the report. I don’t believe what I don’t see. And Mother never gives her away to me.

February 15th. Father is furious because Oswald has an Unsatisfactory in Greek. Greek is really no use; for no one uses Greek, except the people who live in Greece and Oswald will never go there, if he is going to be a judge like Father. _Of course_ Dora learns Latin; but not for me thank you. Hella’s report is not particularly good and her father was in a _perfect fury!!!_ He says she ought to have a better report than any one else. She does not bother much and says: One can’t have everything. But if she doesn’t get nothing but ones in the summer term she is not to stay at the high school and will have to go to the middle school. That’ll make her sit up. Father’s awfully funny too: What have you got history books for, if you don’t read them? Yesterday when I was reading my album of stories, Father came in and said: You like a story book better than a history book, and shut the book up and took it away from me. I was in such a temper that I went to bed at 7 o’clock without any supper.

February 20th. I met the Gold Fairy to-day. She spoke to me and asked why I did not come skating any more. The fancy dress Ice Carnival on the 24th was splendid she said. I said: Would you believe it, a year ago my _sister_ had an earache, and _for that reason_ they won’t allow _either_ of us to skate this year. She laughed like anything and said so exquisitely: Oh, what a wicked sister. She looked perfectly ravishing: A red-brown coat and skirt trimmed with fur, sable I believe, and a huge brown beaver hat with crepe-de-chine ribbons, lovely. And her eyes and mouth. I believe she will marry the man who is always going about with her. Next autumn, when we get new winter clothes, I shall have a fur trimmed red-brown. We must not always be dressed alike. Hella and Lizzi are never dressed alike.

March 8th. I shall never say another word to Berta Franker she’s utterly false. I’ve such a frightful headache because I cried all through the lesson. She wrote to Hella and me in the arithmetic lesson: A _Verhaltnis_ ** means something quite different. Just at that moment the mistress looked across and said: To whom were you nodding? She said: To Lainer. Because she laughed at the word “Verhaltnis.” It was not true. I had not thought about the word at all. It wasn’t till I had read the note that it occurred to Hella and me what _Verhaltnis_ means. After the lesson Fraulein St. called us down into the teachers’ room and told Frau Doktor M. that Franke and I had laughed at the use of the word “Verhaltnis.” Frau Doktor said: What was there to laugh at? Why did you not just do your sums? Fraulein St. said: You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, young girls in the first class shouldn’t know anything about such things. I shall have to speak to your mothers. In the German lesson Frau Doktor M. told us to write an essay on the proverb: Pure the heart and true the word, clear the brow and free the eye, these are our safeguards, or something of that sort; I must get Hella to write it for me, for I was crying all through the lesson.

** The German word Verhaltnis as used in the arithmetic lesson means ratio, proportion. The word is in common use in Germany for a love intimacy or liaison.--Translators’ Note.

March 10th. To-day Berta Franke wanted to talk things out with us; but Hella and I told her we would not speak to her again. We told her to remember _what sort_ of things she had said to us. She denied it all already. We shouldn’t be such humbugs. It was mean of her. Really we didn’t know anything and _she_ told us all about it. Hella has told me again and again she wished we didn’t know anything. She says she’s always afraid of giving herself away and that she often thinks about that sort of thing when she ought to be learning her lessons. So do I. And one often dreams about such things at night when one has been talking about them in the afternoon. Still, it’s better to know all about it.

March 22nd. I so seldom manage to write anything, first of all our lessons take such a lot of time, and second because I don’t care about it any more since what Father said the other day. The last time I wrote was on Saturday afternoon, and Father came in and said: Come along children, we’ll go to Schonbrunn. That will do you more good than scribbling diaries which you only go and lose when you’ve written them. So Mother told Father all about it in the holidays. I couldn’t have believed it of Mother for I begged her to promise not to tell anyone. And she said: One doesn’t promise about a thing like that; but I won’t tell anyone. And now she must have told about it, although she said she wouldn’t. Even Franke’s deceitfulness was nothing to that for after all we’ve only known her since last autumn, but I could never have believed that Mother would do such a thing. I told Hella when we were having tea at the Tivoli and she said she would not altogether trust her mother, she’d rather trust her father. But if that had happened to _her_, her father would have boxed her ears with the diary. I did not want to show anything, but in the evening I only gave Mother quite a little kiss. And she said, what’s the matter, dear? has anything happened? Then I could not keep it in and I cried like anything and said: You’ve betrayed me. And Mother said: “I?” Yes, you; you told Father about the diary though you promised me you wouldn’t. At first Mother didn’t remember anything about it, but soon she remembered and said: “But, little one, I tell Father everything. All you meant was that Dora was not to know.” That’s quite true, it’s all right that Dora wasn’t told; but still Father need not have been told either. And Mother was awfully sweet and nice and I didn’t go to bed till 10 o’clock. But whatever happens I shan’t tell her anything again and I don’t care about the old diary any more. Hella says: Don’t be stupid; I ought just to go on writing; but another time I should be careful not to lose anything, and besides I should not blab everything to Mother and Father. She says she no longer tells her mother anything since that time in the summer when her mother gave her a box on the ear because that other girl had told her all about everything. It’s quite true, Hella is right, I’m just a child still in the way I run to Mother and tell her everything. And it’s not nice of Father to tease me about my diary; I suppose he never kept one himself.

March 27th. Hurrah we’re going to Hainfeld for Easter; I am so delighted. Mother has a friend there whose husband is doctor there, so she has to live there all the year round. Last year in the winter she and Ada stayed three days with us because her eyes were bad. Ada is really nearly as old as Dora, but Dora said, like her cheek: “Her intellectual level makes her much more suitable company for you than for me.” Dora thinks herself cleverer than anyone else. They have 2 boys, but I don’t know them very well for they are only 8 and 9. Mother’s friend was in an asylum once, for she went off her head when her 2 year old baby died. I remember it quite well. It must have been more than 2 years ago when Father and Mother were always talking of poor Anna who had lost her child within 3 days. And I believed she had really lost it, and once I asked whether they had found it yet. I thought it had been lost in the forest, because there’s such a great forest at Hainfeld. And since then I can’t bear to hear people say lost when they mean dead, for it is so difficult to know which they really mean.

On the 8th of April the Easter holidays will begin and we shall go on the 11th, on Maundy Thursday.

April 6th. I don’t know what to do about writing my diary. I don’t want to take it with me and as for remembering everything and writing it down afterwards I know quite well I should never do that. Hella says I should only jot it down in outline, that’s what Frau Doktor M. always says, and write it out properly after I come back from Hainfeld. That’s what she does. They are going to the Brioni Islands. I’ve never seen the sea. Hella says there’s nothing so wonderful about it. She’s been there four times. Anyway she does not think so much of it as most people do. So it can’t be anything so frightfully grand. Rather stupid I dare say.

April 12th. We got here yesterday. Ada is a darling but the two boys are awfully vulgar. Ernstl said to Ada: I shall give you a smack on the a---- if you don’t give me my pistol directly. Ada is as tall as her mother. Their speech is rather countrified Even the doctor’s. He drinks a frightful lot of beer; quarts I believe.

April 14th. Father came to-day. He’s awfully fond of the doctor. They kissed one another. It did make me laugh. In the morning we were in the forest; but there are no violets yet, only a few snowdrops, but a tremendous lot of hellebores quite red.

April 15th. We got up at 4 yesterday morning. We did not go into the church for Mother was afraid that the smell of incense and boots would make Dora feel bad. What rot! It was lovely. This afternoon we are going to Ramsau, it’s lovely there.

April 16th. Father went home to-day. We go home to-morrow. At Whitsuntide Ada’s mother is going to bring her to be confirmed. They are all coming to stay with us. I got stuck in a bog on the bank of the Ramsau. It was awful. But the doctor pulled me out and then we did all laugh so when we saw what my shoes and stockings were like. Luckily I was able to catch hold of a tree stump or I should have sunk right in.

April 18th. Hella says it was splendid at the Brioni Islands. She is frightfully sunburned. I don’t like that, so I shall _never_ go to the _south_. Hella says that if one marries in winter one _must_ spend one’s honeymoon in the south. That would not suit me, I should just put off my marriage till the summer.