The Goose Man
deception follows, and falsehood does not fail. But of what use is
candour if it thrusts a knife into the heart of another merely in order
to prepare an unblocked path for him who is candid? What good does it do
to confess if the other does not understand? Two are already bleeding to
death; shall the third meet with the same fate merely in order to say
that the matter was talked over? The truth is, too many words have
already been spoken, gruesome, shameless words, at the sound of which
the innocent night of the senses vanishes. And must one bleed to death
when it becomes clearer and clearer that those are not eternal laws
against which war is being waged? How can I, dwarf that I am, attack
eternal laws? No, it is the frail, mutable customs of human society--?
Are you listening, Gertrude?"
A "yes" that sounded like a note from a bird on a distant hill greeted
his ears: it was the answer to his question.
"I have reached the point where silence is no longer thinkable: there is
no going any farther without you. I will neither exaggerate nor have
recourse to conventional phrases: I will not speak of passion nor say
that it could not be helped. It is just barely possible that everything
can be helped; that a man could always have done differently if he had
begun soon enough. But who can ever tell what the future may bring? And
passion? There are many varieties of passion. It is the term that every
swain, washed and unwashed, uses in referring to his lusts. I had never
felt a passion for which a woman was guilty. But now one has seized me
with hide and hair. I had imagined that I could get out of it and not
bring you into it; impossible! I am burning up with this passion,
Gertrude, my whole being has been changed by it; and if help is not
given me, I will be ruined."
For a time there was a death-like stillness in the room; then he
continued.
"But where is help to come from? It is strange; never until this thing
happened did I know what holds us two together, you and me. Threads are
being spun back and forth between us which no hand may touch without
withering, as it is written in the Bible. There is a secret, a sacred
secret, and if I offended it I would feel as though I had strangled the
unborn child in your womb; and not only the child in your womb, but all
the unborn children in my own breast. There is in the life of each man a
woman in whom his own mother becomes young again, and to whom he is
bound by an unseen, indestructible, umbilical cord. Face to face with
this woman, his love, great or small, even his hate, his indifference,
becomes a phantom, just as everything that we give out becomes a phantom
compared with what is given to us. And there is another woman who is my
own creation, the fruit of my dreams; she is my picture; I have created
her from my own blood; she lay in me just as the seed lay in the bud.
And she must be mine once she has been unveiled and made known to me, or
I will perish of loneliness and maddened longing."
The extravagant man pressed his face to the pillow and groaned: "She
must be mine, or I will never get up from this bed. But if my way to her
passes over you, Gertrude, I would have to cry out with Faust: 'Oh, had
I never been born!'"
Gertrude never uttered a sound. Minute after minute passed by. Daniel,
growing calmer, listened to see if he could not hear some sound in the
room. He heard nothing. The silence of his wife began to fill him with
anxiety; he rose up in bed. The moon had gone down; it was pitch dark.
He felt around for some matches, and lighted a candle. Holding it in his
hand, he bent over Gertrude. She was as pale as death; she was looking
at the ceiling with wide-opened eyes.
"Put the candle out, Daniel," she whispered, "I have something to say to
you."
He put the candle out, and set it away.
"Give me your hand, Daniel."
He felt for her hand; he took hold of it. It was ice cold; he laid it on
his breast.
"May I stay with you, Daniel? Will you tolerate me in your home?"
"Tolerate? Gertrude, tolerate?" he asked, in a lifeless, toneless voice.
"You are my wife, in the presence of God my wife," he added, in deadened
memory of the words of another.
"I will become your mother made young again, as you wish."
"Yes, Gertrude, but how?"
"I will help you, you and Eleanore. The hearts of you two shall not
bleed to death because of me. Let me stay; that is all I ask."
"That is more easily said than done, Gertrude." He pressed close up to
her, took her in his arms, and sobbed with unexpected violence.
"It is hard; yes, it is hard. But your heart must not be allowed to
bleed on my account."
His head lay on her breast; he was seized with convulsions of grief that
would not let him go until break of day.
Then all of a sudden the words came like a scream from Gertrude's lips:
"I too am a creature."
He embraced her with warmth; and she murmured: "It is hard, Daniel, but
be of good cheer, be of good cheer."
XV
Pflaum, the apothecary, had begun to feel cramped in his house near the
Church of the Holy Ghost. He had looked at several houses in the last
week or two, and had finally decided on the Schimmelweis property, which
was now for sale. The apothecary shop was to remain for the time being
at its present location, and Jason Philip was likewise to keep his store
and his residence. Herr Pflaum, being the landlord, intended to occupy
the first and second floors; he had a large family.
One beautiful August afternoon, the two men--the apothecary and the
bookseller--left the office of Judge Ruebsam, where they had gone to sign
the papers transferring the mortgage on the Schimmelweis property. A
cloudless sky, already tinted with the blue of the descending sun, shone
over the city.
Herr Pflaum looked the picture of happiness: his troubles seemed all to
be behind him; he was manifestly facing the future without fear and
without care. Jason Philip Schimmelweis, on the contrary, was plainly
worried. He looked like a man who was on the down grade. There was a
great grease spot on his coat. This spot told the story of domestic
troubles; it revealed the fact that Jason Philip had a wife who had been
ill in bed for months, and no physician in the city could diagnose her
case; none knew what she was suffering from. Jason Philip was angry at
his wife, at her illness, at the whole medical profession, and at the
growing confusion and disorder in his affairs.
As they crossed AEgydius Place he cast a glance of unbounded hatred at
the house in which Daniel and Gertrude lived. But he did not say
anything; he merely pinched his lips and hung his head. In so doing he
noticed the grease spot on his coat, and emitted a vexed growl. "I will
go along with you, Herr Apothecary, and get a bottle of benzine," he
said, turning to his companion. In his voice there was a noticeable
trace of that reluctant and unwilling humility which the poor display in
the presence of the rich.
"Good, good," he said, "come right along." He blew the air before him;
for he was warm. "Greetings, greetings," he exclaimed, and waved his
hand, "what are you doing here?"
It was Herr Carovius to whom he spoke. Herr Carovius was just then
standing by the fountain of the Goose Man, rapt in the sort of
reflection that was peculiar to him.
"At your service, gentlemen," he said.
"I see there are natives who study our native art," remarked the
apothecary with an ironical smile, and stopped. Jason Philip likewise
stopped, and looked in a dazed, distraught way at the bronze man with
the two geese. Some boys were playing ball close by the fountain. When
they saw the three men looking at it, they quit playing, came up, and
looked at the fountain and the men and grinned as if there were
something new to be seen.
"We have no idea what riches we possess," said Herr Carovius.
"Quite right, quite right," nodded the apothecary.
"I have just been trying to think what meaning this group may have,"
continued Herr Carovius, "there is undeniably a musical motif in it."
"A musical motif?" murmured Jason Philip, to whom the very term music
conveyed the idea of something unpleasant.
"Yes, but you have got to understand it," said Herr Carovius rather
jauntily. With that he seized the ear of a small boy who had ventured
right up to his trousers' legs; the boy screamed.
After casting an angry look at the monument, Jason Philip broke out in
sudden and hearty laughter. "Now I understand," he stammered as he
coughed, "you are a fox, a sly old dodger."
"What do you mean, gentlemen?" asked the apothecary, who had become
somewhat anxious, for he feared that this outburst of hilarity was
directed at him.
"Why, don't you see? Don't you understand?" panted Jason Philip with a
scarlet red face, "the two geese--? The musical motif and the two
geese--? Isn't it clear yet?"
It was clear to Herr Carovius. He stuck the index finger of his right
hand in the air, and broke out in a neighing sort of laughter. Then he
took the apothecary by the arm, and in the pauses between salvos of
laughter he bleated: "Magnificent!--Under each arm a goose!--Priceless!
Say, Herr Schimmelweis, that was good. We will allow you one on that."
The connection was now clear to the apothecary. He slapped himself on
his hips and cried: "As sure as there is a devil, that's the best joke I
ever heard in my life."
Jason Philip Schimmelweis again got control of himself. He pressed his
hands to his stomach and said breathlessly: "Who would have thought that
the Goose Man moves about among us in bodily form?"
"Yes, who would have thought it?" said Herr Carovius as if conceding a
point. "It is a capital shot, a real discovery. We come to the simple
conclusion: Goose Man! And we are capable of drawing a conclusion, for
there are three of us. According to an old proverb, _Tres faciunt
collegium._"
"And they," stuttered Jason Philip, pointing to the group, as tears of
laughter trickled down over his pudgy cheeks, "they are three, too. See,
there are three of them!"
"Right," screamed Herr Carovius, "there are three of them, too. It is
all clear."
"Have a chew, gentlemen?" said the apothecary, taking his tobacco pouch
from his pocket.
"No," replied Jason Philip, "that joke deserves a cigar." The remark was
made between gulps of laughter.
"I suggest that we christen the story with a flask of Salvator," said
Herr Carovius.
The other two agreed to the proposal. The _collegium_ marched across the
square, stopped every now and then, broke out in fits of insuppressible
laughter, and then continued on their way to the inn with parched
throats.
It may have been only an evening shadow, or it may have been a rare
inspiration that created the impression. But the Goose Man, standing
there in all his pride behind the iron railing, seemed to follow them
with his eyes, in which there were traces of sorrow and astonishment.
The boys playing ball had soon forgotten the delectable episode.
PHILIPPINA STARTS A FIRE
I
Daniel and Eleanore had reached a stage of mutual silence; it was not
the first time, however, and it was as disagreeable now as it had been
then. They would meet on the steps, and pass each other with a mere nod.
If Eleanore came in to see Gertrude, Daniel withdrew.
Once Eleanore called when Gertrude was not at home. Daniel was stubborn;
nor could Eleanore manage to make a single rational remark. He did not
like her looks; he suspected her paleness and outward, enforced
cheerfulness. "It is an undignified state of affairs, Eleanore," he
exclaimed, "we must make an end of it."
Make an end of it? Yes--but how? This was the thought that came at once