Joseph Roth - Tarabas

“My dear fellow,” said the general in a very gentle voice. Tarabas bent his back still lower to hear better.

“My dear fellow,” said General Lakubeit, “I thank you for this kind welcome. I know a lot about you. I’ve known you by name a long time. I’m delighted to meet you, you know.” Was this the way for a general to speak? Tarabas had no suitable answer ready.

On the way from the station, side by side in the carriage — Kristianpoller’s carriage driven by one of Tarabas’s own men — General Lakubeit said nothing at all. Huddled up like a very small child, he sat there beside Tarabas and let his clear, dark eyes dart with their swift glance over the view. You saw them when he took off his big, gold-braided cap, which he did a few times during the drive, although the day was anything but hot. Once or twice Tarabas tried to set a conversation going. But, hardly begun, it seemed to him as though the general had drawn miles and miles away from him. Forebodings of evil crossed the heart of the mighty Tarabas, dark forebodings! When they came into the little town where the inhabitants, well trained in servility, were lined up on the wooden sidewalks right and left to hail the great visitor, General Lakubeit began to turn from side to side and smile at them as he returned their greeting, nodding his yellowish, bald head at them; he held his cap on his knees. The thin lips parted and revealed a toothless mouth. If Tarabas had doubted before, he was certain now — the topmost of all the havoc-wreaking paper devils was this one, Lakubeit.

At Kristianpoller’s place they stopped; the general jumped out nimbly, paying no attention to Tarabas. He nodded pleasantly at the inn-keeper, made haste to replace his cap upon his little head, and fairly darted into the house. He ordered tea and a hard-boiled egg. And Tarabas did not touch the glass of brandy which Kristianpoller had placed before him as usual without waiting to be told. The general was knocking the egg gently against the edge of his saucer as the elegant lieutenant, his adjutant, entered and drew himself up smartly beside the table.

“Sit down,” murmured the general, and peeled the egg clean with his bony first finger.

When the egg had been eaten and the tea drunk in utter silence, General Lakubeit said: “Now we’ll go and have a look at the regiment!”

By all means, Colonel Tarabas had seen to everything. Since early morning the regiment had been waiting outside the barracks for the general to arrive. And inside also everything was in the best of order. Notwithstanding Colonel Tarabas said:

“I can’t guarantee that you’ll find it much to look at. I’d no pay for the men, no uniforms; even the barracks were uninhabitable when I got here. Nor can I answer for all the men. A lot of them have deserted. There’s a good deal of riff-raff among them, I’m afraid.”

“Have your drink first,” said the general.

Tarabas had it.

“You have one too,” said the general to the lieutenant.

“Two chests of money will be here later on today,” he went on. “That ought to settle the chief difficulties. You’ll have officers’ and men’s pay for two months. Also something over for beer and spirits. Good humour’s the principal thing. You know that, don’t you, Colonel Tarabas?”

Yes, Colonel Tarabas knew that.

In silence they re-entered the carriage and bowled along to the barracks.

With hasty little steps General Lakubeit pattered past the ranks drawn up on parade. He took his cap off often; it seemed to be a habit of his. Without it, bareheaded, his nude little skull was just level with the shouldered rifle-butts, and one could not but think that his quick eyes took in nothing but the belts and boots of the regiment he was reviewing. The men performed the usual head-turns, but their eyes looked out in front of them, far above Lakubeit’s head. But now and then, with startling suddenness, his head came up, he stopped, his swift eyes set hard and bored into the face, the body, the harness of a man or officer at random.

Unlike all other generals in the world, General Lakubeit did not seem to judge the military qualities of the men he inspected. They were well used to being tested on that score. They were versed in war and in imprisonment, in giving battle and receiving wounds, even in dying — what fault had the general to find with them?

This tiny Lakubeit, however, when he stopped and jerked his head up with such suddenness, seemed trying to probe the soul, the inmost, of a man. They, to conceal this from him, armoured themselves with military stiffness, wrapped themselves round in discipline, stood absolutely rigid as in their earliest recruiting days, and with it all the feeling still tormented them that it was waste of effort. Most of them believed in the existence of the devil. And, like their colonel, they too believed that they could see the little flames of hell flickering in Lakubeit’s small eyes.

Lakubeit brought the review very quickly to an end. He went into the office with Colonel Tarabas, gave orders for the clerks to be sent away, sat down, glanced through the papers, arranged them with his skilful, skinny hands in separate piles, smiled occasionally, smoothed one pile tenderly and then another, looked at Tarabas sitting opposite him, and said:

“Colonel Tarabas, you don’t understand all this!”

So there was something, apparently, which the mighty Tarabas did not understand; though everybody knows that, since Tarabas had gone into the war, such a thing did not exist.

“Yes,” General Lakubeit repeated in his thin voice, “you don’t understand these things, Colonel Tarabas.”

“No,” said the mighty Tarabas, “no, I don’t. I can’t make head or tail of them. The two captains I put on to the work because I thought that they were experts — they were in the statistics department during the war — and the clerks I got down specially, they don’t understand this business either. They bring me reports that I can’t make head or tail of; I admit it. I’m afraid they only complicate things worse than ever.”

“Exactly,” said General Lakubeit. “I shall send you an adjutant, Colonel Tarabas. A young fellow. Don’t treat him with too much contempt, will you? He was not at the front. Feeble constitution. Not fit. Not one of nature’s soldiers like, thank heaven, you are, Colonel. As a matter of fact he was my assistant for ten years before the war. I must tell you — I hope it won’t make any difference — that I was a lawyer in my civilian days. And an auditor in the war, not a fighting man. You’ll have noticed that, most likely. And your father’s lawyer, by the way. I saw him only a week ago and had a talk with him, your old father. He didn’t send you his love.”

General Lakubeit paused. His penetrating, monotonous words seemed to stand there in the room, each one for itself; hard, sharp, they stood still all round Colonel Tarabas like a little fence of thin, planed posts. Only the small word “Father” broke their uniformity, and stood up more noticeable than the rest. All at once Colonel Tarabas seemed to feel himself growing smaller and smaller; yes, without doubt he felt himself undergoing a physical shrinking. Whereas earlier in the day he had in vain endeavoured, out of politeness and deference to his superior officer, to make himself appear less than the general, now he did all he could to maintain his proper size, and sit there bolt upright and broad, like the mighty Tarabas he was. He could still look through the window over the top of General Lakubeit’s bald head, and noted the fact with satisfaction. Outside was sunlit autumn. A golden chestnut tree stood near the window, with half its leaves already gone. Behind it, looking near enough to touch, shone the intense blue of the sky. For the first time since his childhood Colonel Tarabas was conscious of the strength and power of nature; he could smell the autumn through the window, and wished that he might be a boy again. For a short while he sank into a reverie of his childhood, but knew as well that he was only taking flight there from this present hour, that he was only running away from it back into the past, the mighty Tarabas. Whereat he went on growing small, infinitesimal, until at last he sat there before General Lakubeit like a little boy.