Andres Neuman - Traveller of the Century

A melancholy silence descended on the room — it was a quarter to seven in the evening, and the sun’s rays were almost horizontal.

What remains of my life down here, Sophie echoed, kneeling.

For reasons of social discretion and because it was his personal retreat, Hans had scarcely talked to Sophie about the organ grinder or his cave. The first time he had mentioned his friend to her, Sophie had taken a moment to realise he was referring to the scruffy old man who played a battered barrel organ in the market square, a black dog at his feet. What? That old man? she had said in astonishment. What’s so special about him? He’s been there for years. Noticing that Hans had bridled slightly, Sophie began to insist on a formal introduction. Initially, he had resisted, partly out of a sense of shame (a shame that made him bitterly unhappy) and partly because he was afraid he couldn’t bear it if, like everyone else, she were to look down her nose at him. After a while, faced with Sophie’s pleas, Hans decided to take the plunge. In fact, for months he had been eager and reluctant to introduce her to the organ grinder. Apart from Álvaro, the organ grinder was his only friend in Wandernburg, and it was only natural he should introduce Sophie to him. Besides, as things stood, the old man knew virtually all there was to know about her. And so, at twelve o’clock one balmy Wednesday in July, Hans arranged the meeting and crossed his fingers. Sophie would arrive accompanied by Elsa just before lunch, on the pretext of having gone out to purchase some cotton thread and angora buttons at a haberdasher’s.

The market square was bustling with children on their way home from school, women flaunting colourful frocks that billowed in the breeze, and men piling in to taverns. The Tower of the Wind cast a tall shadow over the cobblestones, its twin towers pointing skywards, as though about to pierce the skin of time and fly off like arrows. Hans waited anxiously and played with Franz, who was trying to bite the toe of his boot. Of the three coins in the organ grinder’s dish, two were from Hans. When Hans recognised the familiar green parasol floating through the crowd, he turned to the old man and asked if he would play an allemande. The organ grinder nodded and began turning the handle, but suddenly he lifted his head and said: A waltz would be better. Why a waltz? asked Hans. Don’t be such an innocent, because it’s more daring, of course!

Sophie, Elsa, announced Hans ceremoniously, this is my good friend, the organ grinder. The old man bowed, clasped Elsa’s hand between two fingers, brushed it with his lips and said: Charmed, I’m sure. He repeated the same gesture with Sophie, and added: I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Fräulein, I’ve heard a great deal about you, all of which I can see was true. Seeing Hans become uneasy, the organ grinder explained: Your family has always enjoyed great prestige in this city. Perplexed by the old man’s graciousness, which seemed so at odds with his appearance, Sophie handed her parasol to Elsa, leant forward and replied: The pleasure is ours, sir, and I confess that of late I have been hearing even more flattering things about you.

A silence descended, which Hans found uncomfortable, Sophie intriguing and the organ grinder utterly delightful. They all exchanged glances, smiled and looked at the ground at a loss for words. Hans gave a nervous cough. Then the organ grinder clicked his tongue, exhaled noisily and declared: Good heavens, where are my manners, a thousand pardons, ladies, this creature sprawled on the floor here is Franz, my protector, Franz get up and say hello to these young ladies. Hans raised a hand to his face and thought: This can only end badly. But Sophie, utterly enchanted by the old man, stooped to stroke Franz, who sprang to his feet. Delighted to meet you, Herr Franz, said Sophie. Franz gazed at her with moist eyes, wrinkled his brown eyebrows and laid back down. He’s a well-bred dog, but he likes to conserve his energy, explained the organ grinder.

Sophie, Hans and the organ grinder stood casually chatting a moment longer, before saying goodbye. The old man concluded by solemnly inviting her to his cave. My humble cave, he stated, which is wonderfully cool in the summer. Sophie bade him farewell, promising to come. Hans had a suspicion she would be true to her word. As she turned to leave, taking Elsa’s arm, Hans studied Sophie’s face — he knew she had enjoyed herself and that, in some way, the organ grinder had fascinated her.

The filthy old man with the barrel organ pointed towards the dog. Sophie bent down to stroke the animal and looked contented. Elsa stood watching, motionless. Hans, who also happened to be there, made a strange gesture with his hand. What were they saying to each other? Rudi Wilderhaus was observing the scene through the windows of the Central Tavern. He couldn’t hear them or fully make sense of the situation. She was with Elsa, yes, but why were they dallying? And what were they talking about to Hans and that filthy old man?

Laughter broke out over by the bar. One of Rudi’s young companions placed a hand on his shoulder as he sat gazing through the window, his back to them. Hey, Wilderhaus, said the young aristocrat, aren’t you bothered by your fiancée associating with strange men? How can you accept her frequenting a common inn? My fiancée, Rudi replied, swinging round, associates with whom she pleases, because, unlike yours, she’s no fool. As for Sophie’s visits to the inn, her father and I are fully aware of them; she goes there to indulge in one of her favourite pastimes, which is literary translation.

Rudi’s friends shot each other glances, stifled guffaws, raised their tankards: Your health, Wilderhaus! said one. I drink to your fiancée’s literary endeavours! Rudi clinked his tankard and retorted: And I drink to your descendants carrying on the family tradition of ignorance. All but the toastee laughed. Rudi turned once more to the window. He saw the two women taking their leave of Hans and the filthy old man, before continuing on their way. He thought he detected a smile on Sophie’s face. When he rested his elbows on the bar, he looked solemn, though apparently unruffled. Seriously, Wilderhaus, one of the others ventured, don’t you think it’s a bit much? Oughtn’t you to intervene just to be on the safe side, if only as a matter of decency? Sophie’s decency is beyond reproach, Rudi said lifting his chin. I told you, I trust her implicitly, and I trust myself even more. Of course, of course, the other man said, but be honest, don’t you feel just a little jealous? Rudi remained silent for a moment. He gave a long sigh, slammed down his tankard and growled: Who do you think you’re talking to, numbskull! Do you imagine for one moment that I’m intimidated by a lowly scribbler from God knows where, with no family, no estate, no refinement? Do you expect me to feel even remotely jealous of an ignorant commoner who lodges at an inn? What infuriates me are not Sophie’s outlandish pastimes, which she has always pursued and quite rightfully, it’s the disgraceful insinuations of people like you. The mere fact that you think I should be concerned about this is humiliating and offensive to me. I therefore demand that you retract your vile remarks this instant, or that you repeat them to me while brandishing the weapon of your choice. And the same goes for the rest of you.

The other man lowered his head and stammered an apology. His friends hastily did likewise. The group fell silent. Rudi Wilderhaus gestured to the waiter, left a few coins on the bar, and walked out without saying goodbye.

Each time Professor Mietter parted his taut lips to speak, the water fountain in the patio became clearly audible again — the other salon-goers dutifully stopped talking and waited for his opinion, fingers clasped. Hans could not help being impressed by the professor’s authority, although he remained somewhat perplexed by it. The professor never grew excitable in an attempt to impose his arguments — he delivered them unhurriedly while the others appeared to take notes in silence. Herr Gottlieb would nod his head in solemn interest. Sophie would smile rather ambiguously. And Hans, who was beginning to understand Sophie’s gestures, suspected that these long, ecstatic smiles were a sign that she disagreed completely.