Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune (16 page)

“No,” she answered. “Not at the very last.
After the hard board was locked firmly around his neck with his
head sticking out the other side he became very quiet. Something
seemed to be going on inside of him.”

The professor became very attentive, “Could
you see his face, your Highness? Could you guess at what was going
on inside him?”

The princess said, “I could see him just as
clearly as I see you right now sitting in front of me–What was
going on inside him–I don’t really know–there was just an
instant–After the executioner looked around one last time to see
that everything was ready–when his hand pressed the button that
released the blade. I saw the eyes of the murderer, they stood wide
open, with insane passion, saw his mouth panting and his features
contorted with desire–”

She stopped.

“Was that all?” inquired the Privy
Councilor.

She finished, “Yes, then the guillotine fell
and his head sprang into the sack that one of the assistants held
open- Please, reach me the marmalade, your Excellency.”

There was a knock at the door. It opened and
Dr. Petersen stepped inside. In his hand swung a long glass tube,
tightly corked and wrapped in wadding.

Good morning, your Highness,” he said. “Good
morning, your Excellency–Here–here it is.”

The princess sprang up, “Let me see–”

But the Privy Councilor held her back. “Slow
down, your Highness. You will see it soon enough. If it is all
right with you, we will get right to work.”

He turned to the assistant doctor, “I don’t
know if it will be important, but just in case it would be a good
idea if you–”

His voice sunk as he put his lips to the ear
of the doctor.

He nodded, “Very well, your Excellency. I
will give the orders immediately.”

They went through the white corridors and
stopped just in front of No. Seventeen.

“Here she is,” said the Privy Councilor as he
carefully opened the door.

The room was entirely white, radiant with
sunlight. The girl lay deeply asleep in bed. A bright ray scurried
in from the tightly barred windows, trembled on the floor,
clambered up a golden ladder, darted across the sheets and nestled
lovingly on her sweet cheek, plunging her red hair into glowing
flames. Her lips were moving–half-open–as if she were lightly
whispering words of love.

“She’s dreaming of her prince,” said the
Privy Councilor.

Then he laid his cold, moist hand on her
shoulder and shook it.

“Wake up Alma.”

A slight shock flew through her limbs. She
sat up, drunk with sleep.

“What do you want?” she stammered.

Then she recognized the professor. “Leave me
alone.”

“Come on Alma, don’t be foolish,” the Privy
Councilor admonished her. “It is finally time. Be sensible and
don’t give us any trouble.”

With a quick jerk he pulled the sheets away
throwing her onto the floor.

The eyes of the princess widened, “Very good!
The girl is very well endowed–that is convenient.”

But the prostitute pulled her nightshirt down
and covered herself as well as possible with a pillow.

“Go away!” She screamed. “I won’t do it!”

The Privy Councilor waved to the assistant
doctor.

“Go,” he commanded. “Hurry, we don’t have any
time to lose.”

Dr. Petersen quickly left the room. The
princess came up and sat on the bed, talked to the girl.

“Don’t be silly, little one. It won’t do any
good.”

She attempted to caress her, massaging her
with fat be-ringed fingers over throat and neck, down to her
breasts.

Alma pushed her away, “What do you want?–Who
are you?–Go away, away–I won’t do it!”

The princess would not be rebuffed, “I only
want what’s best for you child–I’ll give you a pretty ring and a
new dress–”

“I don’t want a ring,” screamed the
prostitute. “I don’t need a new dress. I want to go from here. Why
won’t they leave me in peace?”

The creation of Alraune

The Privy Councilor opened the glass tube in
smiling tranquility.

“Later you will be left in peace–and later
you can go. Meanwhile you have an obligation to fulfill that you
agreed to at the very beginning–Ah, there you are doctor.”

He turned to the assistant doctor who had
just entered with a chloroform mask in his hand.

“Come here quickly.”

The prostitute stared at him with terrified,
wide protruding eyes.

“No,” she lamented. “No! No!”

She made as if to spring out of the bed and
pushed the assistant doctor so hard with both hands on his chest as
he tried to restrain her that he staggered back and almost fell
down. Then the princess threw herself onto the girl with wide
stretched arms, pressing her back into the bed with her mighty
weight. Her fingers with their many rings clawed into the luminous
flesh as she gripped a long strand of red hair in her teeth.

The prostitute struggled, kicking her legs
into the air, unable to free her arms or move her body under this
mighty burden. She saw as the doctor placed the mask over her face,
heard him lightly counting “one, two, three–”

She screamed and tried to turn her head to
the side away from the mask, “No! No! I won’t! I won’t! Oh, I can’t
breathe–”

Then her screams died away, turned into a
pitiful weak whimper, “Mother–oh–mother.”

Twelve days later the prostitute Alma Raune
was delivered to Criminal Court for imprisonment pending an
investigation. The warrant was issued because she was accused of
theft and without any home of record considered at risk to flee.
The charges were brought by his Excellency Privy Councilor ten
Brinken.

Already in the first days the professor had
repeatedly asked the assistant doctor if he had not seen this or
that thing that was missing. The Privy Councilor was missing an old
signet ring that he had set to one side while washing and then left
it. He was missing a little money purse that he had left in his
overcoat as well as he could remember.

He asked Dr. Petersen to unobtrusively keep a
sharp eye on all the employees. Then the assistant doctor’s gold
watch disappeared from a room in the clinic where he kept it in a
locked drawer in his writing desk. The drawer had been forcibly
opened. A thorough search of the clinic and all the employees was
immediately declared but nothing was found.

“It must be one of the patients,” the Privy
Councilor concluded and ordered a search of all the rooms as well.
This was led by Dr. Petersen, but again without success.

“Have you forgotten any rooms?” his chief
questioned.

“None, your Excellency!” answered the
assistant doctor. “Except Alma’s room.”

“Why haven’t you checked there?” asked the
Privy Councilor again.

“But your Excellency!” Dr. Petersen replied.
“That is completely out of the question. The girl is watched night
and day. She has not once been out of her room and now since she
knows that we have been successful has become completely out of
hand. She howls and screams the entire day and threatens to drive
us all crazy. She only thinks about how she can escape and other
ways to frustrate our goal–To put it straight, your Excellency, it
seems impossible to me for us to keep the girl here the entire
time.”

“So,” the Privy Councilor laughed. “Petersen,
go and search room seventeen at once. It does not appear to me that
we can count on the innocence of the prostitute.”

A quarter of an hour later Dr. Petersen came
back with a knotted handkerchief.

“Here are the missing items,” he said. “I
found them in the bottom of the girl’s laundry sack.”

“I thought so!” nodded the Privy Councilor.
“Now go and telephone the police right away.”

The assistant doctor hesitated, “Excuse me,
your Excellency, if I may be permitted to object. The girl is
certainly not guilty even if the evidence seems to speak against
her. Your Excellency should have seen her as I searched the room
with the old nurse and finally found the things. She was completely
apathetic, wasn’t concerned at all. She certainly didn’t have
anything to do with the theft. One of the staff must have taken the
items and when threatened by discovery, hid them in her room.”

The professor grinned, “You are very
chivalrous Petersen–But all the same–telephone the police!”

“Your Excellency,” the assistant doctor
pleaded. “Can’t we wait a little. Perhaps we can question the staff
one more time–”

Listen Petersen,” said the Privy Councilor.
“You should think this through a little more. It doesn’t matter at
all if the prostitute has stolen these things. The important thing
is that we will be rid of her and she will be safe until her hour
is come. Isn’t that true? In prison she will be kept safe for us,
much safer than here. You know how well we are paying her and I am
willing to pay her even more for this little inconvenience–after it
is all over.

It won’t be any worse for her in prison than
here–Her room will be a little smaller, her bed a little harder and
the food won’t be as good. But she will have companions–and that
will be worth a lot in her condition.”

Dr. Petersen looked at him, still not
entirely convinced. “Quite true, your Excellency, but–won’t she
talk there? It could be very uncomfortable if–”

The Privy Councilor smiled, “How so? Let her
talk, as much as she wants. Hysteria- mendax–you know that she is
hysterical and that hysterical people are known to lie! No one will
believe her, especially since she’s a hysterical pregnant woman.
What would she say anyway? The story of the prince, that my nephew
swindled her with so neatly?

Do you believe that the judge, the attorney,
the prison director, the pastor or any other reasonable person
would even listen to such obstruse nonsense?–Besides, I will speak
to the prison doctor myself–who is he anyway?”

“My colleague, Dr. Perscheidt,” said the
assistant doctor.

“Ah, your friend, little Perscheidt,” the
professor confirmed. “I know him as well. I will ask him to keep an
especially watchful eye on our patient. I will tell him that she
had an affair with an acquaintance of mine that sent her to my
clinic and that this gentleman is prepared to take full care of the
child in every way. I will also tell him about the extraordinary
lies I have observed in the patient and even what stories she is
likely to tell him.

Even more, we will retain Legal Councilor
Gontram for her defense at our own cost and explain the case to him
so that he will not believe anything she says either– Are you still
afraid Petersen?”

The assistant doctor looked at his chief in
admiration.

“No, your Excellency,” he said. “Your
Excellency has thought of everything. Whatever is in my power to
do, I am at your service, Excellency.”

The Privy Councilor sighed loudly, then
reached out his hand.

“Thank you dear Petersen. You will not
believe how difficult these little lies have been for me. But what
is a person to do? Science has always demanded such sacrifices. Our
brave predecessors, the doctors of the late Middle Ages, were
forced to steal bodies from cemeteries so they could learn anatomy.
They risked being criminally charged with violation of a corpse and
similar nonsense. We can’t complain, must take such little
deceptions into the bargain, for the sake of our sacred
science.

Now go Petersen. Telephone the police!”

The assistant doctor left. In his heart was a
great and honest admiration for his chief.

Alma Raune was sentenced for burglary. Her
stubborn denial and prior conviction worked against her. Despite
that, she was given a light sentence. Apparently because she was
really very beautiful and also because Legal Councilor Gontram was
defending her. She only received one year and six months
imprisonment and the time she had already served applied to it as
well.

This was further reduced at the request of
his Excellency ten Brinken even though her conduct while in prison
could in no way be considered model behavior. In his gracious
request for a pardon he concluded that her bad behavior was due to
her morbidly hysterical condition and also stressed that she would
soon become a mother.

In the early morning at the first signs of
labor she was released and taken to the ten Brinken clinic. There
she was placed in her old white room, No. Seventeen, at the end of
the corridor. The labor pains had already begun during transport
and Dr. Petersen tried to calm her by saying it would soon be over.
But he was wrong.

The labor lasted that entire day, that night
and the following day. They let up for a little while and then
returned even more strongly. The girl screamed and whimpered,
writhing in pain and misery.

The third short paragraph in the leather
bound book A. T. B. is in the hand of the assistant doctor and
deals with this remarkable birth. He performed, with the assistance
of the prison doctor, the very difficult delivery that lasted for
three days and ended with the death of the mother. The Privy
Councilor himself was not present.