Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune (9 page)

Frank Braun was held in high regard. He had
locked up the piano on the second day because he didn’t want to
listen any more to the horrible “Song of Spring” the cavalry
captain kept playing. He put the key in his pocket, went outside
and then threw it over the fortress wall. He had also brought his
dueling pistols with him and shot them all day long. He could
guzzle and escape as well as anyone up here.

Really, he had enjoyed these summer months at
the fortress. He had dragged in a pile of books, a new writing
quill and sheets of writing paper, believing he could work here,
looking forward to the constraint of the solitude. But he hadn’t
been able to open a book, had not written one letter.

Instead he had been pulled into this wild
childish whirlpool that he loathed and went along with it day after
day. He hated his comrades–every single one of them–

His attendant came into the garden,
saluted:

“Herr Doctor, A letter for you.”

A letter? On Sunday afternoon? He took it out
of the soldier’s hand. It was a special express letter that had
been forwarded to him up here. He recognized the thin scrawl of his
uncle’s handwriting. From him? What did his uncle suddenly want of
him? He weighed the letter in his hand.

Oh, he was tempted to send the letter back,
“delivery refused”. What was going on with the old professor
anyway? Yes, the last time he had seen him was when he had traveled
back to Lendenich with him after the celebration at the Gontrams.
That was when he had tried to persuade his uncle to create an
alraune creature. That was two years ago.

Ah, now it was all coming back to him! He had
gone to a different university, had passed his exams. Then he had
sat in a hole in Lorraine–busy as a junior attorney–Busy? Bah, he
had set out in life thinking he would travel when he got out of
college. He was popular with the women, and with those that loved a
loose life and wild ways. His superior viewed him very
unfavorably.

Oh yes, he worked, a bit here and there–for
himself. But it was always what his superior called public nuisance
cases. He sneaked away when he could, traveled to Paris. It was
better at the house on Butte Sacrée than in court. He didn’t know
for sure where it would all lead. It was certain that he would
never be a jurist, attorney, judge or other public servant. But
then, what should he do? He lived there, got into more debt every
day–

Now he held this letter in his hand and felt
torn between ripping it open and sending it back like it was as a
late answer to a different letter his uncle had written him two
years ago.

It had been shortly after that night. He had
ridden through the village at midnight with five other students,
back from an outing into the seven mountains. On a sudden impulse
he had invited them all to a late midnight meal at the ten Brinken
house.

They tore at the bell, yelled loudly and
hammered against the wrought iron door making such a noise that the
entire village came running out to see what was happening. The
Privy Councilor was away on a journey but the servant let them in
on the nephew’s command. The horses were taken to the stable and
Frank Braun woke the household, ordered them to prepare a great
feast. Frank Braun went into his uncle’s cellar and brought out the
finest wines.

They feasted, drank and sang, roared through
the house and garden, made noises, howled and smashed things with
their fists. Early the next morning they rode home, bawling and
screaming, hanging on to their nags like wild cowboys, one or two
flopping like old meal sacks.

“The young gentlemen behaved like pigs,”
reported Aloys to the Privy Councilor. Yet, that wasn’t it. That
wasn’t what had made his uncle so angry. He didn’t say anything
about it.

On the buffet there had been some rare
apples, dew fresh nectarines, pears and peaches out of his
greenhouse. These precious fruits had been picked with unspeakable
care, wrapped in cotton and laid on golden plates to ripen. But the
students had no reverence at all for the professor’s loves, were
not respectful of anything that had been there. They had bitten
into these fruits, then because they were not ripe, had put them
back down on the plates. That was what he was angry about.

He wrote his nephew an embittered letter
requesting him to never again set foot in his house. Frank Braun
was just as deeply hurt over the reason for the letter, which he
perceived as pathetically petty.

Ah yes, if he had gotten this letter, the one
he was now holding, while living in Metz or even in Montmartre–he
wouldn’t have hesitated a second before giving it back to the
messenger. But he was here–here in this horrible boredom of the
fortress.

He decided.

“It will be a diversion in any case,” he
murmured as he opened the letter.

His uncle shared with him that after careful
consideration he was willing to follow the suggestions his nephew
had given him to the last letter. He already had a suitable
candidate for the father. The stay of execution for the murderer
Raul Noerrissen had been denied and he had no further appeals
possible. Now his uncle was looking for a mother.

He had already made an attempt without
success. Unfortunately it was not easy to find just the right one
but time pressed and he was now asking for assistance in this
matter from his nephew.

Frank Braun looked at his valet, “Is the
letter courier still here?” he asked.

“At your command Herr Doctor, ” the soldier
informed him.

“Tell him to wait. Here give him some drink
money.”

He searched in his pockets and found a Mark
piece. Then he hurried back to the prisoner’s quarter’s letter in
hand. He had scarcely arrived at the barracks courtyard when the
wife of the Sergeant-major came towards him with a dispatch.

“A telegram for you!” she cried.

It was from Dr. Petersen, the Privy
Councilor’s assistant. It read:

“His Excellency has been at the Hotel de Rome
in Berlin since the day before yesterday. Await reply if you can
meet. With heartfelt greetings.”

His Excellency? So his uncle was now “ His
Excellency” and that was why he was in Berlin–In Berlin–that was
too bad. He would have much rather traveled to Paris. It would have
been much easier to find someone there and someone better as well.
All the same, Berlin it was. At least it would be an interruption
of this wilderness.

He considered for a moment. He needed to
leave this evening but didn’t have a penny to his name and his
comrades didn’t either. He looked at the woman.

“Frau Sergeant-major–” he began. But no, that
wouldn’t work. He finished, “Buy the man a drink and put it on my
tab.”

He went to his room, packed his suitcase and
commanded the boy to take it straight to the train station and wait
for him there. Then he went down. The Sergeant-major, the overseer
of the prison house, was standing in the door wringing his hands
and almost broken up.

“You are about to leave, Herr Doctor,” he
lamented, “and the other three gentlemen are already gone to Paris,
not even in this country! Dear God, no good can come out of this.
It will fall on me alone–I carry all the responsibility.”

“It’s not that bad,” answered Frank Braun.
“I’m only going to be gone for a few days and the other gentlemen
will be back soon.”

The Sergeant-major continued to complain,
“It’s not my fault, most certainly not! But the others are so
jealous of me and today Sergeant Bekker has the watch. He–”

“He will keep his mouth shut,” Frank Braun
replied. “He just got over thirty Marks from us–charitable
donations from the English–By the way, I’m going to the commander
in Coblenz to ask for a leave of absence–Are you satisfied
now?”

But the overseer of the prison was not
satisfied. “What! To the commander? But Herr Doctor, you have no
leave of absence to go down to the city, and you still want to go
to the commander?”

Frank Braun laughed, “Yes indeed. Straight to
him! Namely, I must go to the commander and pump some money out of
him.”

The Sergeant-major didn’t say another word.
He stood there not moving with a wide-open mouth, completely
petrified.

“Give me ten pennies, boy,” Frank Braun cried
to his valet, “for the toll bridge.”

He took the coins and went with quick strides
across the yard, into the officer’s garden and from there onto the
slope leading up to the ramparts. He swung up onto the wall,
grabbed the bough of a mighty ash tree on the other side and
climbed down the trunk. Then he pushed through the thick underbrush
and climbed down the rocks. In twenty minutes he was at the
bottom.

It was the route they always took for their
nightly escapades. He went along the Rhine to the toll bridge and
then across to Coblenz. He learned where the commander lived and
hurried there.

He showed the general the telegram and said
that he came on very urgent matters. The general let him in and he
put the telegram back in his pocket.

“How can I help you with this?”

Frank Braun said, “I need a leave of absence
your Excellency. I am a prisoner at the fortress.”

The old general stared at him unkindly,
visibly annoyed at the intrusion.

“What do you want? By the way, how did you
get down into the city? Do you have a pass?”

“Certainly, Your Excellency,” said Frank
Braun. “I have church leave.”

He lied, but knew very well the general only
wanted an answer. “I came to Your Excellency to ask for a three day
pass. My uncle is in Berlin and dying.”

The commander blurted out, “What is your
uncle to me? It’s entirely out of the question! You are not sitting
up there at your convenience. It’s because you have broken the law,
do you understand? Anyone could come to me with a dying uncle or
aunt. If it’s not at least a parent I deny such a pass strictly on
principle.”

“I remain dutiful, your Excellency,” he
replied. “I will inform my uncle, his Excellency, the Privy
Councilor ten Brinken, immediately by telegraph that unfortunately
his only nephew is not allowed to hasten to his deathbed for his
weary eyes to look upon.”

He bowed, turned toward the door, but the
general held him back as he had expected.

“Who is your uncle?” he asked in
hesitation.

Frank Braun repeated the name and the
beautiful title. Then he took the telegram out of his pocket and
handed it over.

“My poor uncle has one last chance for
deliverance in Berlin but unfortunately the operation is not
successful very often.”

“Hmm,” said the commander. “Go my young
friend. Go immediately. Perhaps it will be helpful.”

Frank Braun made a face, lamented and said,
“Only God knows–Perhaps my prayers can do some good.”

He interrupted himself with a beautiful sigh
and continued, “I remain dutiful, your Excellency. There is just
one other thing I have to ask.”

The commander gave him the telegram back.
“What?” he asked.

Frank Braun burst out, “I have no travel
money. May I ask your Excellency to loan me three hundred
Marks.”

The general looked suspiciously at him. “No
money–Hmm–so no money either–But wasn’t yesterday the first? Didn’t
your money come?”

“My money came promptly, your Excellency,” he
replied quickly. “But it was gone just as quickly that night!”

The old commander laughed at that.

“Yes, yes. That is how you atone for your
crimes, your misdeeds! So you need three hundred Marks?”

“Yes, your Excellency! My uncle will
certainly be very happy to hear how you have helped me out of this
predicament, if I am permitted.”

The general turned, went to the writing desk,
opened it and took out three little pieces of paper and a moneybox.
He gave the prisoner quill and paper and told him what to write
down on the receipt. Then he gave him the money. Frank Braun took
it with a light easy bow.

“I remain dutiful, your Excellency.”

“Think nothing of it,” said the commander.
“Go there and come back right away–Give my compliments to yours
truly, his Excellency.”

“Once again I remain dutiful, your
Excellency.”

One last bow and he was outside. He sprang
over the six front steps in one leap and had to restrain himself
not to shout out loud. That was great!

He called a taxi to take him to the
Ehrenbreitstein train station. There he leafed through the
departure times and found he still had three hours to wait. He
called to the valet that was waiting with his suitcase and
commanded him to quickly run over to the “Red Cock” and bring back
the ensign from Plessen.

“But bring the right one boy!” he said
sharply. “The young gentleman that just got here not to long ago.
The one that wears No. six on his back. The one that–Wait, your
pennies have earned interest.”

He threw him a ten Mark piece. Then he went
into the wine house, considered carefully, ordered a select supper
and sat at the window looking out at the Sunday citizens as they
wandered along the Rhine.

Finally the ensign came. “What’s up now?”

“Sit down,” said Frank Braun. “Shut up. Don’t
ask. Eat, drink and be merry!”

He gave him a hundred Mark bill. Pay my bill
with this. You can keep the rest–and tell them up there that I’ve
gone to Berlin–with a pass! I want the Sergeant-major to know that
I will be back before the end of the week.”

The blonde ensign stared at him in outright
admiration, “Just tell me–how did you do it?”

“My secret, “ said Frank Braun. “But it
wouldn’t do you any good if I did tell you. His Excellency will
only be good-natured enough to fall for it once. Prosit!”

The ensign brought him to the train and
handed his suitcase up to him. Then he waved his hat and
handkerchief.

Frank Braun stepped back from the window and
forgot in that same instant the little ensign, his co-prisoners and
the fortress. He spoke with the conductor, stretched out
comfortably in his sleeper, closed his eyes and went to sleep. The
conductor had to shake him very hard to wake him up.