Andres Neuman - Traveller of the Century

After listening to her, Hans thought the time had come to pose the obvious but awkward question he had been carefully avoiding. He did not want any ties, nor was he asking for any. But that fact was since he had met Sophie he felt strangely rooted, and he looked on with astonishment as his stay in Wandernburg lengthened. And given that he was still there, perhaps carrying on behaving as if he had just arrived was a mark of weakness, not of freedom. Sophie, he said gently, how could you have become engaged to Rudi? Why are you still with him?

Sophie was aware that Hans was not in the habit of asking this type of question, and she decided to be relatively frank with him. Look, she said, I’m not in love with Rudi, and I won’t try to pretend I am either to you or to myself because that would be pointless. But I never resisted the marriage. Rudi adores me and I am increasingly fond of him. This is less than I had hoped for, but a lot more than many women can boast. And, well, fantasy aside, such a marriage secures any woman’s future; it will make my father happy and solve our financial worries. Not that I sought Rudi out, to begin with I had no interest in him. But my father began inviting him to the house more frequently, and then he joined our salon. One day he confessed he was in love with me and told me that was the only reason for his coming to the house (I can’t blame him for that, thought Hans), I didn’t take it very seriously, but he swore he would keep coming until I began to love him or refused him entry, which of course I would never have done. And time continued to go by, sometimes it can be as simple as that, can’t it? I never said yes or no to him, I accepted his flattery, my father begged me to consider his proposal, and I thought about the needs of my family, and the fact that in any event I had never fallen in love with anyone. I was attracted to a lot of men, certainly, and would meet with them in secret, but I admired none of them. They didn’t seem sufficiently sensitive or intelligent, I suppose that was my youthful vanity. Finally I decided that if I weren’t going to love a man I’d do better to marry one who was rich and kind. You may think this conformist, but I prefer to call it pragmatism. Rudi has promised that, providing I bear him children and am a good wife, he will never try to prevent me from studying or pursuing my music or travelling. (But couldn’t you aspire to a different sort of marriage? said Hans.) I’m not chasing dreams, I want reality, we women too often confuse love and expectation. At any rate, Rudi is young and handsome. (Is he, really?) Of course he is, are you blind? And although he might seem dull to you, he respects my tastes, he is tolerant with me, and he couldn’t have been more persistent. (Tell me, how did Master Wilderhaus woo you?) Well, you can imagine, he showered me with gifts, took me out to dinner, that sort of thing, but above all he wrote to me. His letters were so passionate I almost envied him, I wanted to be in love the way he was, to be in love with his love. He told me how he saw me, and it was strange, because the more qualities he found in me the less I recognised myself in his descriptions. I swear, I even began to refer to his letters in order to know how I should behave, don’t look at me like that, Hans! It didn’t bother me, I knew perfectly well that when a man portrays his beloved he is portraying his desires. Now please let’s drop the subject and enjoy the news. I’m not getting married until December and that’s what matters.

What matters, Elsa said standing beside the carriage, is what happens later, you understand, she has a future and she shouldn’t throw everything away. But don’t you think they get along very well? Álvaro said, restraining her. I don’t think anything, Elsa replied, gesturing to the driver to wait, he’s your friend so of course you’d say that. One fine day he’ll go back where he came from, and my mistress will have to pick up the pieces. I doubt it, said Álvaro, besides, like I said, it’s nobody’s concern but theirs. You’re wrong, said Elsa, this concerns a whole family, not to mention those of us working for them. How funny, said Álvaro, suddenly you sound as if you cared about their family.

Elsa leant forward, gave him a swift kiss and said: I must go, I’ll arrive late at the fountain.

Steps, we’re off, position yourself, together, turn, faster, more lively, cross over, step back, together again, waist, hand, very good, legs closer together, one-two, one-two-three, much better, don’t forget the arms, wait, not like that, too late now, more lively, shoulders, clumsy you! I love it, heels and stop, cross over and we change, not too fast, your foot with mine, I’m waiting, are you following? Up, lean forward, turn, wait, what are you doing? … Hey, where are you going?

Decidedly, the waltz was not made for Hans.

The dancers at the Apollo Theatre saw him leave the floor in mid-dance, and watched Sophie follow him, unable to stop laughing. Earlier, they had seen them join in a square dance, and more than one had noticed that she, an impeccable dancer and a rather sensible young woman, had been distracted by the young stranger’s whispers and had lost her rhythm in a most unladylike fashion. Hans and Sophie ran up the marble staircase, crossed the gallery and sat down at an empty table, opposite some gaslit chandeliers in the form of grapevines. Never had Sophie acted so boldly, so openly, in public. And never had she felt so indifferent to what others might think — the summer was one big dance floor and she intended to enjoy herself on it until it was closed. And even as her situation became increasingly vulnerable, her feelings gave her a sense of invulnerability.

Impelled by the waltz and in high spirits from the punch, Sophie told Hans about Rudi’s most recent letter. After putting up some resistance, Rudi had accepted postponing the wedding, and even seemed persuaded the new date was more appropriate for such a momentous event. Aside from that, reassured by the eloquence with which Sophie had striven to imbue her letters, he declared himself to be as much in love with her as ever and proud of his fiancée’s organisational skills, which ensured the success of the ceremony. This was all true, but it wasn’t the whole truth — Rudi had been sensitive of late, alternating between a tone of injured pride and one of emotional entreaty. For a few days he had stopped sending her gifts through the post, but when he saw that Sophie made no mention of it, he had regretted his retaliatory act and had redoubled his stream of offerings. She knew Rudi well and could imagine how much pain he was in. And for this reason, in the same way that she regretted being unable to reveal to Rudi her true state of mind, she also lamented being unable to tell Hans how much Rudi was suffering — each man was a moral intruder in the other’s eyes.

No, Hans, my love, I am not as generous as you think nor do I give myself to you freely — whatever you take from me you have already given me, and when I return to you it is because everything has the power to flow back and forth between us, like an echo. When I think of you, when I give myself to you, I feel I am going to meet myself, and this makes me stronger and more serene. Serenity also comes from being able to give back exactly what you receive. What a selfish kind of generosity!

Good night, my happiness. Touch one of your toes and pretend it was my playful hand. Your

S

Sophie, my delicious Sophie, what a wonderful idea — whatever you take from me you have already given to me. I have been reflecting about it all day, and I think your idea, which, like all true ideas, is more of an experience, elevates our love to a higher plane — that of individualism in its truest sense. Lovers in the classical tradition promise they will always remain the same, but with you I have learnt to change my plans for the good. I am not talking about freeing the one you love out of self-righteous altruism. This is about the certainty that your breadth is my horizon.