H. Adler - The Wall

Buxinger, as an upstanding person, respected my caution and said that Fräulein Knispel should be satisfied that I would take time to consider it. The publisher of Eusemia , however, didn’t like what she called a stab in the back. Right, Buxi, she said to him accusingly, this is no way to get a journal up and running, for we’ve wasted a good afternoon. If all we did was waste hours and hours in fruitless conversation with each contributor, where would we end up, and if I’m to keep from wasting my own time, then I have to be smart enough not to pick the brains of overly busy people on my own sweet time, only to find out they are fools.

To this I responded, saying, Look, I was happy to come here, but not to have my brain picked, for I had explained right from the start that I couldn’t agree to anything. Well, then, fine, replied Resi Knispel, but would I come to a meeting of the main contributors, from which the editorial committee would be formed, for it couldn’t do me any harm to meet all the parties involved. But I didn’t agree to this suggestion, either. Then was that my final word? I said it was and stood up. Resi Knispel foamed with rage. Here I was, being offered such a wonderful chance, that she found it shameless that I should turn it down, though now she at least understood what Konirsch-Lenz had said about my laziness and my destructive, nihilistic spirit. Knispel had not wanted to believe this kind of talk and had emphatically disagreed with the wallpaper manufacturer, who, incidentally, was also doing an article on his practical work on sociology, but now she saw there was something wrong with me, that I was a morbid person, an asocial, corrosive type. My horrid past, which one can only weep about, had ruined me, the result being that I would always remain unfit for any kind of positive life.

Herr Buxinger cringed with embarrassment at this nasty outburst, but I smiled at him, undisturbed, said a friendly goodbye, and promised to visit him again in his bookshop. Then I said to Resi Knispel that she could indeed be right in what she thought of me, I myself often thinking much worse of myself, but if all that was true, then she would certainly agree that Eusemia and I were not made for each other. In addition, I wished Eusemia nothing but luck. Then I thanked her for the captivating afternoon and regretted the loss of fruitful work from the hours that had been taken. I said everything as pleasantly as possible, which caused Resi Knispel to accompany me down the hall to the door in a very courteous manner, as if she had forgotten the heavy accusations she had just leveled at me. In the foyer, as I looked for the doorknob, she stopped me.

“Landau, whether you do something for Eusemia or not, you are quite a man. I have a lot of respect for you. You amaze me, I, I … You know, I liked you right away, Landau, back when I met you at the Haarburgers’. So let’s let bygones be bygones. Please, don’t go.”

“I’ve no idea what more I can do for you, Fräulein Knispel.”

“Resi! Don’t call me Fräulein Knispel! And don’t act so dumb! I once recommended that you write a novel, The Miserable . Don’t you remember?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And did you write it?”

“No.”

“Write, Landau, write!”

“I’m not a writer. I’ve never written a novel.”

“Oh, you dummy, you dear, dear fool! You drive me crazy! Write! It will be the novel of our time! Let your scholarly work have a rest. It will drive you crazy, you are meant for something much more.”

“One can’t turn away from oneself. One can only turn away from others. That’s, unfortunately, the way it is.”

“Write, write! Of course, I’ll read it. I’ll help you, I’ll do whatever you want, if only you would just want something! I can find twenty publishers for the novel. When will you come back again, my dear?”

“I won’t be coming. For now I must go.”

“You can’t go! Do you hear? You can’t go! Not before you promise that you will come again and tell me when!”

“That’s crazy. I can’t promise anything!”

“You must! Do I have to spell it out for you that I love you, that I’m crazy for you? I can’t live without you!”

“Let me go now!”

I wanted to open the door to the stairwell, but Knispel was blocking it; I would have to shove her out of the way. That I didn’t want to do.

“Sleeping Beauty, a fable for our day. Release me, Landau!”

“Get hold of yourself! Johanna is waiting for me at home.”

“Do you love Johanna, then — that proud, haughty sourpuss?”

“Don’t say anything about Johanna!”

“Well, then, it will have to be both Johanna and me, but not Johanna without me!”

“Please, just let me go!”

“Landau, Landau, kiss me! You can do with me what you wish!”

“I ask only one thing: let us leave each other in peace.”

The crazy woman wanted to grab hold of me and drag me off. She did so seductively, like a demon. She pulled me by the tie, it being the last one from my father’s shop, scratching my hand with her long fingernails and wounding me and wanting to kiss me and bite me. I asked the madwoman to be reasonable and understanding, but all in vain. I didn’t like to call out, not wanting Buxinger to witness any of this unleashed madness, but I couldn’t control myself. I shook off the wild beast, pushed her away from me, ripped open the door, raced down the stairwell, and didn’t stop running until I had put some distance behind me.

Once I felt I was in the clear, I tried to figure out where I was. I was disheveled, had a small scrape on my chin, which I dabbed at with a damp handkerchief, the scratches on my hand burning. My tie was askew — I loosened the knot in order to tie it afresh, and then noticed that the heavy silk was ripped, a painful wound that only Johanna’s gifted hands could temporarily repair. I couldn’t return to Resi Knispel. The image of my father appeared before me, Fräulein Michelup sewing silk strips with “HAL” on them, then they were placed in long cardboard boxes, each one neatly labeled, laid out on the counter and left open, the lovely ties visible and lying next to the other goods, patterns and colors arranged, Franziska choosing them, then a long rest in a drawer or in a suitcase during the years of extermination, until they found their way to me in the care of Frau Holoubek or Herr Nerad; then I hid them because I didn’t want to wear them or to see them, until finally I pulled them out, one after another, three of them, feeling childishly vain because of Johanna, though she liked them, taking it as a good sign that I was willing to don a piece of the past for her. Johanna had often criticized me for not tying the ties carefully enough. She tried to show me how, fussed around with them, but didn’t have much luck, me preferring to tie them the way I wished and not worrying too much about it. It took me a while to do so, but eventually I managed it, thinking it was good and asking Johanna what she thought. Johanna looked me over and laughed, though she didn’t laugh too much.

“Resi Knispel must have really got to you.”

“How can you say such a thing? I hardly know her, and I don’t care about her at all. She couldn’t mean less to me, and therefore you’re wrong.”

“That may be. She just looked at you so weirdly the last time we were at the Haarburgers’.”

That I could not believe. I had not been rude to her, but I had not followed up on any of her invitations, and had not shown her the slightest bit of sexual interest, something that Johanna wouldn’t have tolerated, though she didn’t have the slightest spark of jealousy within her and always thought of my best interests. And then we were in Vaynor for fourteen days; Betty had rented a place from warmhearted people some miles outside the nosy little town where she sold her candies, us spending the first few days of our life together in a town far away from everything. In Vaynor, which consisted only of loosely gathered buildings, we didn’t have to tell anyone anything about us, we were free, and indeed the people we met — one quickly got to know them — showed a sweet concern for us, such that we were happy to smile at any face we encountered while exchanging a few pleasant words as well. The people who put us up, and who supplied us with ample meals, were harmlessly chatty, but nothing they wished to know disturbed us, and nothing that they talked about made excessive claims upon us. Their worries and hopes were easily balanced. These people were like innocent children and were pleased to be able to attentively and energetically spend their days, to our pleasure, supplying us with many little pleasing things. They loved music; the piano and the violin case were seldom closed. Everyone in the house was happy when we praised their playing. When Johanna took it upon herself to show the youngest, a ten-year-old boy, a better way to bow, there was no end to his thanks. We were amply indulged with cakes and baked goods and had to empty many a glass at the insistence of our hosts.