H. Adler - The Journey

If everything else fails, Paul will hide out in a cloister or in a bishop’s palace. People of the church demonstrate understanding when a refugee asks for help and says: “Benedictus qui venit in nomine Dei.” A friendly “Pax tecum” is said in return, after which the portals to the refectory open as the song “Qui Tollis” is heard. Singing is heard everywhere, the sins of man are atoned for and forgiven in that holy place. The church is powerful, it guards the oppressed and the hunted. The great misfortune of the world will be transformed into the pure gold of charity. Thus Paul is dressed, the lay brothers’ robes suit him well. The cell is indeed small, but clean and airy, the window looks onto the quiet, sunny fruit gardens, the high walls entwined with green steeply descending to the shore road, the poplars bordering the length of the embankment next to the silver-blue stream, the soft meadowlands stretching out on the other shore. And in the cell there stands a brown bed, a dish, a stool made of oak, and a small dresser. The threshold is painted white, such that no illness can cross over it. Paul will study there, but when he grows tired of that, he thinks of ideas for journeys he’ll make in the future after the war, while each morning after breakfast he reads The Leitenberg Daily .

From the papers much can be gleaned if one understands a little of the subtext, which the bloated claims of success seek to cover up. Secrets are not allowed to be talked about in the open, yet what is implied reveals much more than sentences full of enthusiasm. The enemy slowly draws near, Leitenberg lying smack in the middle of both east and west. Because of this the prospects are good for a certain end. Even if everything is wiped out by the advance, Leitenberg will hardly suffer. Before it is conquered, the peace will be decided, and then Paul will hurry to the survivors of Ruhenthal and lead them to freedom. In the time before then he must only wait and not lose heart, nor submit blindly and without hope himself to fate, but rather remain ready. Even though the days pass slowly, they still won’t last forever.

It’s been several days since his father’s death and many hours since the funeral took place in the mortuary. Lunch and supper were taken in between, and so the mourning period has expired. Yet life goes on, not everyone can be executed. Frau Ilsebill’s executioner keeps looking for many victims, but there are others that he passes by, and so there is always someone who survives. The hope of being one of them is the right of the young, Vera had said. The greatest treasures are protected by the soul, for they are lodged where Cross-Eyes can’t find them. And so the journey goes on, announcing the good news at all of the oncoming stations. The railroad workers standing there with their red signal flags await what we have to announce. They will listen and then hand us bread and flowers. Thus we will be received everywhere and “Pax vobiscum” will be called out, though we will reply, “In saecula saeculorum.” Then the central train station of Stupart will approach with its two mighty halls. The train will stop with a rattle, the minister of railways will lift the baton, the band music will begin a bit loud, though the jubiliant crowd won’t mind. Then everyone will get out, the station platform will be covered with a white carpet strewn with countless roses. A handshake, an embrace, a single brotherhood. A rooster in a golden cage will be carried forth, a page presenting it to Zerlina.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Zerlina the golden maiden is here!

Yet Zerlina does not like official greetings, for they embarrass her. She only wants to fulfill her duty, and this doesn’t suit her at all; the rooster should be handed to someone who after so much privation is owed sincere thanks for not having betrayed the human dignity of those in Ruhenthal. Zerlina doesn’t entirely believe what she says there, but she wants to escape the bustle and do so properly, because on a day of celebration one must praise something, since praise upholds what is just more strongly than injustice and in a healthier manner than blame. Meanwhile, Zerlina manages to find a path to the next station gate. Now she can at last walk away in order to slip unnoticed by Frau Lischka into the apartment. After two years’ absence the apartment has fallen into such neglect that it will be many weeks before everything is put back in order. Also all of the things that the Lustigs hid with acquaintances have to be brought back home, which will certainly take a long time, for everywhere people want to know how you really are, what really happened in Ruhenthal, and if it indeed was so bad. You are not allowed to simply say what happened, but instead you are invited to dinner, a glass of schnapps is offered, the grown-up children are marveled at, this and that is chatted about until you can safely excuse yourself, saying, We have to be off, we’re so tired and have so much to do.

A homey feel has returned to the apartment again for the first time. Strangers had packed into the place like sardines and made a mess of it. Their traces have to be eradicated, the mess in the kitchen and other rooms expunged. Perhaps it would be smarter to look around for an apartment free of such problems, one that was freshly painted and that did not cast shadows consumed with hatred from every wall. If only there wasn’t such a shortage of apartments after the war! But certainly it makes sense to move somewhere else, for the old apartment indeed had many problems, it being too dark and sooty, the foyer too small, the doors not thick enough. Yet these disadvantages were far outweighed by the sense of outrage that had settled in, the horror felt before the unconquerable chasm that had opened between the time when they had departed and when they had returned. Sure, their absence is forgotten, since between then and now there is nothing that one can remember, and in between nothing had happened, only a gaping emptiness, incoherent and senseless, just empty time running on, time that didn’t exist, not time at all. That’s why no one can say anything about it. How then can someone demand an account? Zerlina can only quietly point out that she simply didn’t exist between yesterday and today, it’s as if she were asleep. Yet she knows nothing of what happened, it was too dark, black as tar, and if it were indeed any different then she doesn’t want to recall it.

Yet let us continue where Zerlina has stopped. The foot pedal of the sewing machine can once again be worked, for after a bit of oil it works just fine again — ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk. Aunt Ida had always worked it so, saying, “It sounds like a train. Where would you like to travel, dear children?” Paul and Zerlina called out loudly, “To Ingelsdof, to Freiensitz.” Then the sewing machine went even faster. But if the journey took too long, she told stories. Everything, everything comes right again, the days go back to normal, the pantries and the cupboards full. What does it matter if Zerlina can’t quite remember everything and has to search for this and that? At night everyone will sleep, the covers pulled back, the light turned off, the clean blankets softly wrapping around, then morning, it being a little late, the milkman rings the bell, quick, out of bed, into the bathroom, the basin filled with warm water, the breakfast table set, complete with flowers, the breakfast, the honey bread, the beautiful cups filled, the opened egg in its holder, bright gold, then the washing up and clearing, it being high time, hand me my bag, there’s shopping to do. Yes, shopping, the many new purchases that are now needed include clothes, furniture, the many little things that one needs daily!

Is the little flower shop run by Frau Cimera still open? She was quite old indeed, and if she died the shop will certainly be closed, because Straka the laundry man will snatch it up since he wants to expand his business. And are the streets like they once were? Do the same people walk along them? Is any of it recognizable? The times change, Zerlina knows all too well. Perhaps she won’t know her way around Stupart and won’t find a familiar face. Zerlina had not slept without paying a price. Sleeping Beauty held in the Ruhenthal fortress, that was not right. While under her magic spell it would have been nice for nothing to have changed, even if the spell had lasted a century, yet in Stupart time has passed, unable to be stopped; there no one believes in a return.