Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune (37 page)

There was a knock; the chauffeur quickly
stepped inside.

“Herr Doctor,” he cried. “Princess Wolkonski
is here. She is very upset, screamed for the Fräulein while she was
still in her carriage. We thought that perhaps it might be better
if you received her first–So Aloys is bringing her here right
now.”

“Well done!” he said. He sprang up and went
to meet the princess. With great effort she squeezed through the
narrow door and waltzed her heavy masses into the half darkened
hall, which was lit only by the sparse sunlight that came through
the green Venetian blinds.

“Where is she?” she panted. “Where is the
Fräulein?”

He took her hand and led her over to the
divan. She recognized him immediately and called him by name, but
had no intention of getting into a conversation with him.

“I want to see Fräulein Alraune,” she cried.
“Bring the Fräulein here!”

She would not calm down until he rang the
servant and instructed him to announce the visit of the princess.
Then, for the first time, she consented to listen to him.

He asked after the health of her child and
the princess related to him, in an immense flood of words, how she
had met with her daughter. Not once had she recognized her own
mother, had simply sat by the window looking out into the garden,
passive and listless.

It had been in the old Privy Councilor’s
clinic, that fraud, which Professor Dalberg had now turned into an
insane asylum, the same building where–

He interrupted her, cutting short her flood
of words. He quickly grabbed her hand, bent over it and looked with
simulated interest at her rings.

“Excuse me, your Highness,” he cried quickly.
“Where did you ever get this marvelous emerald? Definitely a
showcase piece!”

“It was a button from the Magnate’s beret of
my first husband,” she replied. “It’s an old heirloom.”

She prepared to continue her tirade, but he
didn’t let her get a word in.

“It is a stone of uncommon purity!” he
affirmed. “And of remarkable size! I only once saw a similar one,
in the royal stud of the Maharajah of Rolinkore–He had it set into
his favorite horse’s left eye. For the right it carried a Burmese
ruby that was only a little smaller.”

Then he told of the hobby of Indian princes,
how they gouged out the eyes of their beautiful horses and replaced
them with glass eyes or large round highly polished stones.

“It sounds cruel,” he said. “But I assure
you, your Highness. The effect is amazing when you see such a
magnificent animal, when they stare at you with Alexandrite eyes,
or glance at you out of deep blue sapphires.”

Then he spoke of precious stones, remembering
from his student days that she knew quite a bit about jewels and
pearls. It was the only thing she was really interested in. She
gave him answers, at first quickly and briefly, then became calmer
with every minute.

She pulled off her rings, showed them to him
one after the other, telling him a little story about each one. He
nodded attentively.

“Now let my cousin come,” he thought. “The
first storm is over.”

But he was wrong. Alraune had soundlessly
come through the door, walked softly across the carpet and set
herself down in the easy chair right across from them.

“I am so happy to see you, your Highness,”
she piped.

The princess cried out and gasped for breath,
crossed herself, then a second time, in the Orthodox manner.

“There she is,” she moaned. “There she
sits!”

“Yes,” laughed Alraune, “alive and
breathing!”

She stood up and reached her hand out to the
princess.

“I am so sorry,” she continued. “My
sympathies, your Highness!”

The princess didn’t take her hand. She was
speechless for a minute, struggled for composure–Then she found
herself again.

“I don’t need your sympathy!” she cried. “I
have something to say to you!”

Alraune sat back down, waved lightly with her
hand.

“Please speak, your Highness.”

The princess began. Did the Fräulein know
that she had lost her fortune through the machinations of his
Excellency? But yes, naturally she knew. The gentlemen had
explained every detail to her, explained what she had to do–But she
had refused to fulfill her obligation.

Did she know what had happened to her
daughter? She explained how she had found her in the asylum and
what the doctor’s opinion was. She became more excited, her voice
swelled, becoming higher and more shrieking.

She knew all of that, declared Alraune
calmly.

The princess asked, what was she now
intending to do? Did she intend to walk in the same dirty footsteps
of her father? Oh, there was a fine scoundrel. You couldn’t find a
finer or more cunning blackguard in any book. Now he had his just
reward.

She continued screaming and yelling about his
Excellency, saying everything that came to her tongue–She screamed
that Olga’s sudden attack had been because of the failure of her
mission and not wanting to come back. Alraune had made things worse
by enticing her friend of many long years away from her.

She believed that if the Fräulein would now
help, not only would her fortune be saved, but her child as well,
when she heard the news.

‘I’m not asking,” she screamed. “I’m
demanding! I demand what is rightfully mine. You have done this
wrong, you, my own Godchild, and your father. Now make it right
again, as much as you possibly can–It is a shame that I must be the
first to tell you this–But you will have it no other way.”

“What is there left to save?” Alraune said
softly. “As far as I know, the bank collapsed three days ago. Your
money is gone, your Highness!”

She stressed the ‘gone’–You could hear the
bank notes fluttering in all directions.

“That doesn’t matter,” declared the princess.
“The Legal Councilor told me that almost twelve million of my money
was invested into that rotten bank. You will simply give me those
twelve million out of your own money. That will be nothing to you–I
know that very well!”

“Is that all?” said Fräulein ten Brinken.
“Are there any more commands, your Highness!”

“Many more,” cried the princess. “You will
inform Fräulein Gontram that she is to leave your house
immediately. She will go with me to my poor daughter. I promised to
bring her along the next time I came. Especially now, so she can
share the news that this sad misfortune has been made right. It
will have a very good effect on the countess–Perhaps a sudden
recovery.

I won’t reproach Fräulein Gontram in any way
over her ungrateful behavior or continue pointing out your own
behavior to you. I only wish this affair to be settled
immediately.”

She fell silent, took a deep breath after the
tremendous exertion of her long speech. She took her handkerchief,
fanned herself, and wiped the thick drops of sweat that beaded on
her bright red face.

Alraune stood up briefly, made a slight
bow.

“Your Highness is too gracious,” she
piped.

Then she remained quiet.

The princess waited awhile, then finally
asked, “Well?”

“Well?” the Fräulein came back in the same
tone of voice.

“I’m waiting, –” cried the princess.

“So am I, – ” said Alraune.

Princess Wolkonski moved back and forth on
the divan, whose old springs sagged heavily under her weight. The
way she was pressed into her mighty corset, which even now formed
the huge masses into some type of shape, made it difficult for her
to breath or even move. Her breath came short and unconsciously her
thick tongue licked her dry lips.

“May I be permitted to have a glass of water
brought for you, your Highness?” twittered the Fräulein.

She acted as if she had not heard.

“What do you intend to do now?” she asked
solemnly.

Alraune spoke with infinite simplicity,
“Absolutely nothing.”

The old princess stared at her with round cow
eyes, as if she could not comprehend what the young thing meant.
She stood up, confused, took a few steps, looked around as if she
were searching for something.

Frank Braun stood up, took the carafe of
water from the table, filled a glass and gave it to her. She drank
it greedily.

Alraune stood up as well.

“I beg to be excused, your Highness,” she
said. “May I be permitted to convey your greetings to Fräulein
Gontram?”

The princess went up to her, seething, full
of repressed anger.

Now she is going to burst, thought Frank
Braun.

But she couldn’t find the words, searched in
vain for a beginning.

“Tell her,” she panted. “Tell her that I
never want to lay eyes on her again! She is no better a woman than
you are!”

She stamped with heavy steps through the
hall, gasping, sweating, and waving her mighty arms in the air.
Then her glance fell on the open drawer. She saw the necklace that
she had once given her Godchild, a gold chain with pearls and set
with diamonds around the fiery lock of the mother’s hair. A
triumphant look of hatred flew over her bloated features. She
quickly tore the necklace out of the drawer.

“Do you know what this is?” she screamed.

“No,” said Alraune calmly. “I’ve never seen
it before.”

The princess stepped up right in front of
her.

“So that scoundrel of a Privy Councilor
embezzled it from you–just like him! It was my present to you,
Alraune, as my god-child!”

“Thank you,” said the Fräulein. “The pearls
are very pretty, and the diamonds too–if they are real.”

“They are real,” screamed the princess. “Like
this hair that I cut from your mother!”

She threw the necklace into the Fräulein’s
lap. Alraune took the unusual piece of jewelry, weighed it
thoughtfully in her hand.

“My–mother?” she said slowly. “It appears
that my mother had very beautiful hair.”

The princess placed herself solidly in front
of her, putting both hands solidly on her hips. She was matter of
fact, like a washerwoman.

“Very beautiful hair,” she laughed. “Very
beautiful! So beautiful that all the men ran after her and paid an
entire Mark for one night’s sleep with her beautiful hair!”

The Fräulein sprang up. The blood drained out
of her face in an instant, but she quickly laughed again and said
calmly and scornfully:

“You are getting old, your Highness, old and
childish.”

That was the end. Now there was no going back
for the princess. She broke loose with ordinary, infinitely vulgar
language like a drunken Bordello Madam. She screamed, howled and
obscene filth poured out of her mouth.

lraune’s mother was a whore, one of the
lowest kind, who gave herself away for a Mark and her father was a
miserable rapist and murderer whose name was Noerrissen. She knew
all about it. The Privy Councilor had paid the prostitute money and
purchased her for his vile experiment, had inseminated her with the
semen of the executed criminal. That was how Alraune had been
created and she, herself, had injected the loathsome semen into
Alraune’s mother.

She, Alraune, the stinking fruit of that
experiment, was sitting there now–right in front of her!–A
murderer’s daughter and a prostitute’s child!

That was her revenge. She went out
triumphant, with light steps, swollen with the pride of a victory
that made her ten years younger. She slammed the door loudly as she
closed it.

Now it was quiet in the large library.
Alraune sat in her chair, a little pale. Her hands played nervously
with the necklace, faint movements played around the corners of her
mouth. Finally she stood up.

“Stupid stuff,” she whispered.

She took a few steps, then calmed herself and
stepped back up to her cousin.

“Is it true, Frank Braun?” she asked.

He hesitated a moment, stood up and said
slowly:

“I believe that it is true.”

He stepped over to the writing desk, took up
the leather bound volume and handed it to her.

“Read this,” he said.

She didn’t speak a word, turned to go.

“Take this too,” he cried after her and
handed her the dice cup that had been fashioned out of her mother’s
skull and the dice that had been created out of her father’s
bones.

Describes how Frank Braun played with fire
and how Alraune awoke.

T
HAT
evening the Fräulein didn’t come to dinner,
only allowed Frieda Gontram to bring in a little tea and a few
cakes. Frank Braun waited awhile for her, hoping that perhaps later
she would come down. Then he went to the library and reluctantly
took up the documents from the writing desk. But he couldn’t bring
himself to read them, put them down again and decided to drive into
the city.

Before he left he took the last little
mementos from out of the desk drawer, the piece of silk curtain
cord, the card and four-leaf clover with the bullet holes through
them and finally the alraune manikin. He packed everything
together, sealed the brown paper package and had it sent up to the
Fräulein. He attached no written explanation to it–