Joseph Roth - The Emperor's Tomb

“Franz, the bill please!” I said to the dog, and he climbed on to my lap.

I picked up a sugar lump and held it out to him.

He didn’t take it. He just whimpered. And thereupon he licked my hand, the hand from which he had refused the gift of a piece of sugar.

Now I blew out one candle. I removed the other from the imitation marble tabletop, and went to the door, and with the pole pushed up the shutter from inside.

I wanted to escape the dog and his affection.

When I stepped out on to the pavement with the pole in my hand to lower the shutter, I saw that the dog Franz had not abandoned me. He was following me. He refused to stay. He was an old dog. He had worked for at least ten years in the Café Lindhammer, just as I had for the Emperor Franz Joseph; and now he could work no more. Now both of us could work no more. “The bill, Franz!” I said to the dog. He whimpered in reply.

Day was breaking over the alien, occupying crosses. A dawn breeze shook the ancient lights which, in this street at least, had not yet been extinguished. I walked along the deserted streets with a strange dog. He was set on following me. Where would we go? I had as little idea as he did.

The Kapuzinergruft, where my Emperors lie buried in stone sarcophagi, was locked. The Capuchin brother came up to me, and asked me: “What do you want?”

“I want to visit the tomb of my Emperor Franz Joseph,” I replied.

“May God bless you!” replied the monk, and he made the sign of the cross over me.

“Long live the Emperor!” I called.

“Ssh!” said the monk.

Where can I go now, I, a Trotta?. .

Some thanks are in order: to the founders and organizers of the Spycherpreis , the commune of Leuk and the canton of Wallis (especially Alex Hagen, Thomas Hettche, Carlo Schmidt and Hans Schnyder) for generously establishing me in a place where I have worked so happily for so many years; to Will Hobson — who improved my translation of The Radetzky March a decade ago (then it was synchronized page-turning over milky coffee, now — alas! — it is electronic ping-pong) — for kindly finding the time to help me with this sequel: it is a pleasure to be indebted again to his ear and resourcefulness and attention to detail; and to Philip Gwyn Jones, Bella Lacey, Aidan O’Neill and others at Granta for their noble commitment to this project; and to my friends Jana Marko and Peter Sokol for help and support.