Cihlar & Egeler - The Saint and her Fool

„There are only people who sigh and those who torture. One is never alone. Never. One always has to do everything right, in English and in French, yet nothing ever improves. The only escape is to climb through the window, because a bar is missing. No one knows and one can climb out onto the linden tree. The moon is shining and one may cry with the tree; then, to snuggle up in the arms of the tree and sleep so blissfully, because it smells so sweet and holds one secure in their dreams. The good Lord does not scold, for he knows very well how it is for a lonely soul. It is so nice and warm and the linden tree shines in tears that make one’s eyes sleepy and the fragrance caresses the lonely body. Then it murmurs and swishes. A fine tinkling can be heard…and there she is. The moonlight reflects her silver dress and around her neck is jewelry of hanging drops. Around her hair lingers a white haze and she looks directly into one’s eyes. She knows everything. She knows… woe, woe, all alone…never again . The greatest joy mingles with greatest sorrow. She is there until one falls asleep.”

Then, little Rose is silent. All is quiet; the only sounds to be heard are the strokes of Harro’s paintbrush. Frau von Hardenstein is no longer in the room.

He looks up and lays down his brush. „I think that will be enough for today; to keep drawing would only ruin what has been created. Please go and look for Frau von Hardenstein, my Rose, I would like to say goodbye to her before I go.” The girl reluctantly goes out, but is right back.

„She is not alone; I do not wish to go to her now.”

Harro packs his items together, hangs a cloth over the painting and forbids the child to peek. Then, Frau von Hardenstein comes in with a shining smile on her face. „Are you leaving already, Harro? Why didn’t you come to get me? I would like to spend some time with you in my dwelling of pillars.”

„I did not want to intrude, dear Mama, when there is someone with you.”

„Oh, no, I was alone.”

Harro looks down at his Rose and she colors a dark red. As he walks on, saying a good bye to the child, his expression is a quite serious one. Where upon the girl shouts out in her highest voice:

„You gave me your word that you would never say that about me!”

„I have said nothing, little lady, my mind should be allowed to conclude a thought.”

Dear Harro, you must come over today, even if towards evening. You seem to have done something disastrous yesterday …

writes Frau von Hardenstein the next day. It is indeed evening, by the time he arrives at the castle and no little Rose runs to greet him. Frau von Hardenstein welcomes him with blushed cheeks.

„It seems I cannot do my job well, I am not able to understand the child. She hasn’t touched a bite to eat since yesterday, no matter what I say to her…with good or stern words. The child is so willful! I have never seen such a stubborn little person in my life. I even threatened her that I would leave, if she did not obey, but she only said, then Miss Whart would just come back, as if she did not care one way or the other. I had imagined she liked me…”

Harro rushes by and finds his Saint Rose sulking in a chair, her Snow White doll wrapped in her arms. She sits completely still and looks very pale and miserable.

„Darling, why do you bring such sorrow to Frau von Hardenstein?”

„I am also sorrowful.”

„I can see that; it seems to be so bad that you do not even want to greet your dearest friend. Shall I leave again?”

„You may, it wouldn’t help anyway.”

„Should I really? How do you know if I will ever be back?”

She suddenly stands up and stamps angrily with her little foot. „I refuse to be obedient anymore, I will only do what I wish and you are not allowed to hit me.”

„My love, why do you so offend us; we have always shown you love and understanding.”

„You have offended me!”

He seems speechless. „Have I? How can you say that?”

„You looked at me and your eyes said; liar !”

„If you would like me to treat you as a sensible little woman, then you must behave yourself accordingly. I sent you to get Frau von Hardenstein and you said she was with someone, although she had been alone.”

Frau von Hardenstein pulls the reluctant child gently towards her. „Child,” she says in a kind voice. „Who should that have been, with me?”

The child’s face twitches painfully, and then she wraps her arms around the motherly widow and whispers into her ear. Harro looks out the window. When he turns back, she has the child on her lap and is kissing her golden hair and her pale little hand, with tears in her eyes. She dabs the tears away and stands up.

„Harro, the Princess is a good girl again and will now drink her milk and go to bed. Please go into my salon in the meantime, I will be with you in a moment.”

Harro goes over and strides up and down between the pillars, which now look more respectful, having gotten rid of their ridiculous panties. He looks up to the stucco ceiling and breathes out gratefully; he had felt quite awkward minutes ago. The ceiling stares back down at him; everywhere weeping angels, hourglasses, thick floral garlands. One angel is quite plump, with long curly hair and seems to be heartbroken, crying into a large handkerchief. What tearful people up there, he thinks…there has been so much weeping in these old walls that some of it must catch on to the residents. Maybe it is a good thing that not all old walls keep standing over so much time.

At last, Frau von Hardenstein comes back.

„I have kept you waiting so long. Are you looking at the troubled folk up there? I have had my share of seeing them. This is indeed a strange dwelling and I sometimes even miss the absurd panties I have taken down. So, my dear Harro, you have been reason for all this.”

„So?”

„Oh, Harro, this whole affair has such a sad touch, as if the angel statue up there with a handkerchief knows the grief incarcerated in these walls. Hadn’t you listened to the child and its story yesterday, while painting? About the woman who walked down the stairs until the middle of earth?”

„Of course; about heartache and neverhappy and the bird neveragain . The child has the soul of a poet.”

„But when she spoke of all this…oh, Harro, with her fine, delicate voice – God, I may not be poetic….but the way it sounded…the words so full of fervency: never happy and never again. I had to leave the room, it all sounded somewhat ghastly from her tender lips.”

She takes a picture from her drawer and holds it to her breast. „Harro, this room had once been a funeral chapel, though that is not the point. How can I describe something, there are no words for? I, myself, have felt…how can I say this…a presence in these rooms. I have often felt solemn and yet light-hearted between these walls. Why should I not live in a chapel of rest, when my heart feels the same? I did snap out of this stage at one point, but the child has often been here and seems to have also felt the presence. Do not ask me to explain, but the child was right. I was not alone.”

For a moment, there is a dead silence in the room, as if the shadows in these walls never retreat, no matter how much sun shines into the room, the shadows are always there. Then Frau von Hardenstein clears her throat and says in a resolute tone:

„Enough of this now! I have only one more thing to say: I will stay here until they either dismiss me or I feel my job is done. This all fits together; these walls, the child and I. You know I am no one who forces themselves onto anyone, but I have felt these shadows. This child is able to see the souls of those departed, which means she is destined for death or is a lost soul herself, something that is frightening for most people. Didn’t you see her eyes when she was talking and how pale she had been? You shouldn’t encourage her to keep speaking of these things, it horrified me.”